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mephisto-reporting · 16 days ago

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Jealousy, Jealousy with Sylus

Plot: Reader becomes jealous of Sylus and MC's closeness, distancing herself and seeking comfort in another LI. Sylus notices her growing distance and takes action. Based on this request. Pairing: Sylus x Non MC reader Content Warning: Insecurities, injuries, mention of blood, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort Note: Reader is not the MC of the game. I think I got quite carried away writing this because I am a sucker for angst.

The faint hum of the air condition echoed through the Onychinus base, its opulent, luxurious atmosphere doing little to distract from the knot twisting in your stomach. You stood across from Luke and Kieran, their crow masks tilted slightly as if to gauge your reaction.

"Boss isn't here today," Luke said casually, his hands tucked into his pockets. "He’s in Linkon, Boss man’s got other things to handle."

Kieran, his mask tilted slightly to the side, gave a confused grunt. "But I thought he was meeting with her...?"

Luke raised a brow, correcting him. "No, no, he was meeting with Miss Hunter."

Miss Hunter.

The words hit you like a sledgehammer, even though they shouldn’t have. You were a hunter too, an informant who had been feeding Sylus critical intel on the association’s movements for two years now. But she was different. Special.

Captain Jenna’s star pupil, with her rare Anhaunsen-class Resonance Evol, was someone Sylus had spent weeks trying to connect with, both literally and emotionally. You weren’t blind to the necessity of it; resonating with her was crucial for his goals, ones he hadn’t entirely shared with you but that you trusted him to pursue.

Trusted him. Loved him.

You forced a tight smile. "Thanks for the update. I'll let you two get back to it."

Luke and Kieran exchanged a glance, but you were already walking away, the echo of your boots swallowed by the hum of the base.

The ride back to Linkon was supposed to clear your mind. It didn’t.

The cool wind whipped against your face, but all it did was sting the tears pooling in your eyes. The road stretched endlessly ahead, yet the pressure in your chest only grew. Sylus hadn’t seen you in two months. Two months of unanswered calls and messages reduced to half-hearted responses when they came at all.

You understood why he was focused on her. She was crucial to his plans. She was everything you weren’t: poised, pretty, powerful, and, most importantly, someone he needed.

But understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.

The world blurred around you as your thoughts spiraled. You had always known your place in Sylus’ life. You were the informant, the quiet insider who helped him stay two steps ahead of the hunters. Somewhere along the way, though, you had fallen for him. For the man who wasn’t as cold and calculated as others believed. It had been two long years since you started working with Sylus. Two years filled with secrecy, lies, and hidden truths. But over those years, you'd found yourself tangled in emotions for him that you couldn’t shake. Sylus, with his cold authority, his dangerous smile, his complex nature… He was all you could think about. He wasn’t as dismissive as people thought. He had a way of looking at you when no one was watching—a fleeting softness that you cherished, even if you couldn’t be certain if it was real.

And now, it felt like you were losing him.

Your bike screeched to a halt near Meow’s Café. You hadn’t planned to stop, but the sight of the familiar storefront tugged at you. Perhaps a coffee and a moment to breathe would help.

The glass windows glinted under the midday sun, and your breath hitched as you looked inside.

Sylus was there. With her.

They sat at a small table, a deck of Kitty cards spread between them. He was leaning back, his smirk in full display as she laughed at something he said. It was the kind of laugh that reached her eyes, the kind of moment you had only ever dreamed of sharing with him.

You froze, your hands tightening on your helmet.

For a fleeting second, you wanted to march inside and demand answers. To ask him why he had time to play cards but couldn’t return your calls. To tell him how his absence had hollowed you out.

But you didn’t.

He looks so happy... you thought bitterly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

The truth gnawed at you. Every interaction, every ignored message, every unread notification on your phone—it was because of her. Because Sylus had more important things to do. She was the one who mattered now. She was the one who he had to resonate with, had to bond with, had to make fall for him.

And you? You were just a pawn, a tool—forgotten. And there you were. Alone. Watching through a window, the warmth of the cafe contrasting the cold, empty feeling in your stomach. He hadn’t even bothered to let you know he was back. He was with her. You couldn’t bear to watch any longer, but you couldn’t look away either. It felt like the world was spinning faster than you could catch up, and you were left stranded, dizzy, and abandoned.

Instead, you turned away, your chest tight and vision blurred. The world felt suffocating, the weight of your unspoken feelings dragging you down as you climbed back onto your bike.

It was for the best, right?

You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep waiting for him, couldn’t keep fooling yourself that there was something real between you two. He was busy. He had her. And you.. well, you didn’t even know why you bothered anymore.

The ride back to your apartment was a blur of taillights and muffled engine noise. The city’s glow that usually brought you some sense of comfort felt glaring and alien tonight. By the time you made it inside, the suffocating silence of your small space was overwhelming.

For someone who prided herself on being strong and independent, you barely made it to your couch before the sobs overtook you. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you clutched a pillow to your chest, trying in vain to keep your cries muffled. It felt as though something within you had been ripped apart, leaving an aching, hollow void that throbbed with every thought of him.

You replayed the image of him at the café in your mind, over and over, as if some part of you wanted to punish yourself further. His smirk. Her laughter. The ease of their interaction. It contrasted so sharply with the heaviness that now weighed on your heart.

Every chime of your phone made you flinch, hope briefly sparking to life, only to be cruelly snuffed out when the screen lit up with messages from others—work updates, pointless notifications, or friends checking in. Nothing from him. Of course, there wouldn’t be.

You wiped at your face, your chest tightening as you scrolled through the last few conversations you’d had with Sylus. They were short, clipped responses. A "thanks" here, an "I’m busy" there. You’d convinced yourself for weeks that he wasn’t brushing you off, that his focus was just elsewhere. But deep down, you knew. You’d always known.

You weren’t as important to him as he was to you.

That realization settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and final. And yet, you tried to convince yourself it was okay. He doesn’t owe me anything, you told yourself, though the thought only twisted the knife deeper. He’s free to choose who he spends his time with.

But it didn’t stop the tears.

The days that followed were a haze of exhaustion and numbness. You threw yourself into your work, spending long hours tracking and confronting wanderers. The physical exhaustion helped, even if just a little. At least when you were in the middle of a fight, the pain in your chest was drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Still, the nights were the worst. Alone in your apartment, the quiet crept in like a suffocating fog. You tried to distract yourself—reading, cleaning, even organizing old mission reports. Anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But it was impossible.

Each time you saw his name in your contacts, you hesitated. Your thumb hovered over the call button more times than you cared to admit, but the fear of hearing his indifferent voice stopped you every time. What would you even say? That you missed him? That you wanted to see him? That you’d fallen for him, even though you knew it would never be mutual?

No. You couldn’t do that to yourself.

You worked harder, pushed yourself further. Every wanderer you fought became a stand-in for your frustrations, your insecurities. You told yourself that if you could just stay busy enough, the ache would go away. But no matter how many missions you completed or how many late nights you spent staring at your phone, the weight in your chest never fully lifted.

By the end of the week, you were exhausted—physically and emotionally. But you were surviving. Barely. The bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed into the chocolatier’s shop, the rich scent of cocoa and vanilla wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The day had been grueling—hours of chasing leads, a narrow escape from a particularly aggressive wanderer, and not a single bite of food since morning. Your stomach growled in protest, a sharp reminder that you’d been running on fumes for too long.

Rows of meticulously crafted chocolates gleamed beneath the glass counter, their perfect swirls and shimmering finishes almost too beautiful to eat. Almost. You leaned forward slightly, scanning the display, your reflection ghosting over the pristine surface.

Dark chocolate truffles. Raspberry ganache. Caramel hazelnut clusters. The options were overwhelming, and your indecision felt heavier than it should’ve. Your chest still ached from the lingering emotions you’d been suppressing all week. The quiet joy of the shop felt alien, like stepping into a world you no longer belonged to.

Just pick something and go, you thought, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. But the choices seemed endless, each one whispering promises of sweetness you weren’t sure you deserved.

"If you’re struggling," a soft, measured voice spoke behind you, "the pistachio crème chocolate is an excellent choice."

Startled, you turned, your gaze falling on a man standing a few steps away. Tall and lean, he exuded an understated confidence that was both intimidating and captivating. Dark hair fell in against his forehead, and sharp hazel-green eyes, softened by gold flecks peered at you from behind thin-framed glasses. His white doctor’s coat was open, revealing a simple black shirt beneath, and he held a small paper bag in one hand.

You blinked, caught off guard by both his suggestion and his presence. "Oh, uh… thank you," you stammered, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. "I’ll… I’ll try that."

The shopkeeper nodded and carefully packed your selection as you stole another glance at the stranger. There was an air of calm authority about him, a quiet assurance that made you feel oddly exposed, like he could see straight through you.

He waited patiently as the shopkeeper handed you your bag, but just as you were about to leave, his voice cut through the quiet again—this time, more direct. "Chocolates shouldn’t be your first meal of the day."

The statement was delivered without malice, his tone stoic and matter-of-fact, yet it hit like a stone to the chest. Your lips parted in shock, the question forming before you could stop it: How does he know? But before you could say anything, he was already moving toward the door. The bells jingled softly as it closed behind him, leaving you standing frozen in place. The stranger’s words lingered, intertwining with the rest of your messy emotions. Your fingers clenched the small bag of chocolates as you tried to process the brief encounter.

A soft gleam on the floor caught your attention, breaking your spiraling thoughts. A wallet, its sleek leather worn but well-kept, lay just inches from where the man had stood. You knelt and picked it up, your heart thudding as you opened it to check for identification.

The name embossed on his hospital ID was like a jolt: Dr. Zayne. Your eyes widened. Doctor Zayne? The name was familiar—a renowned surgeon whose skills and precision were legendary, often described as a miracle worker. You’d imagined someone older, more weathered, not… this.

For a moment, you stared at the ID, piecing together the puzzle of the composed, enigmatic man who had called you out so effortlessly. You tried the number listed on a card tucked into his wallet, but it rang unanswered, the sterile monotone only adding to your frustration.

"Of course, he wouldn’t answer," you muttered under your breath, chewing your lip as you debated your next move. The idea of keeping his wallet overnight felt wrong, and leaving it here in the shop seemed equally careless.

That left one option.

The hospital loomed ahead as you approached, its towering structure illuminated against the evening sky. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, twisting with every step you took through the sterile white halls. You weren’t sure why you felt so on edge—maybe it was the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that had been haunting you lately, or maybe it was the lingering impression of Zayne’s knowing gaze.

At the reception desk, you hesitated, gripping the wallet tightly as you cleared your throat. "Hi, um, I’m here to return something for Dr. Zayne. He… accidentally dropped this."

The receptionist barely looked up, taking the wallet with a polite but indifferent smile. "Dr. Zayne isn’t in right now. I’ll make sure he gets this when he’s back."

"Oh," You nodded, murmuring a quick thanks before retreating back toward the exit. You thought nothing of this interaction as you left. You did what you thought was right and left the hospital back towards your apartment.

The days blurred together in a haze of work and routine. You buried yourself in assignments from the Hunter’s Association, throwing yourself into dangerous missions with a single-minded intensity. Anything to keep your mind occupied.

Sylus messaged you once during that time, his tone professional as he asked for updates regarding a lead he was tracking. You’d responded quickly, sticking strictly to business. No pleasantries, no banter—just the information he needed. He didn’t press, didn’t call you out for your uncharacteristic coldness. Maybe he didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and chose not to say anything.

That night, you jogged through the dimly lit streets, your breath fogging in the cool air as you tried to exorcise the restless energy gnawing at you. The rhythmic slap of your sneakers against the pavement was grounding, steady. Jogging had always been your go-to, a way to clear your head and silence the endless stream of "what-ifs" and "if-onlys" that plagued your mind.

You shook your head, annoyed at yourself. There was no point in dwelling. Sylus wasn’t the kind of person to give you what you wanted, and even if he did, could you trust it? Could you trust him?

But no amount of movement could completely shake Sylus from your thoughts.

His voice, his presence—it clung to you, even now.

Why didn’t he ask how I’ve been? Why didn’t I?

The sound of skidding tires yanked you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Look out!”

Before you could process the warning, a cyclist veered wildly toward you, their momentum too strong to stop. There wasn’t even time to brace yourself. The impact hit like a freight train, and suddenly, you were on the ground, tangled with the bike and its rider. Pain blossomed sharp and hot in your knees as the asphalt scraped them raw.

For a moment, you just lay there, stunned. The world tilted unsteadily, the city lights smearing together like a watercolor painting.

“Hey, you okay?” The cyclist’s voice snapped you back. They were scrambling off you, helmet slightly askew but otherwise unscathed. You shook your head to clear it, wincing as you sat up. You pushed yourself up, shaking the dizziness from your head, and checked on the cyclist who had crashed into you. They were already scrambling to their feet, looking slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed, their helmet and guards having done their job.

“I’m fine,” you managed, even as your knees throbbed in protest. “Are you?”

“Yeah, thanks to the gear,” they said, pulling off their helmet to inspect a small crack along its surface. “Guess it did its job.”

Relief washed over you. “Good. Let me just—”

“Wait.” A different voice cut in, firm but calm. You stood there, still trying to regain your bearings when a figure appeared beside you, moving with a grace that immediately caught your attention. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was. Dr. Zayne. The same man who had crossed your path in the chocolatier's shop just days ago. His sharp eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, everything else seemed to vanish. His expression shifted from mild surprise to something more concerned as he took in your state.

Without saying a word, he immediately began assessing you, his gaze narrowing at the blood now staining your knees. You winced, feeling the sting of the cuts that had begun to bloom with a fiery intensity, but you were determined not to show it. You were used to pain—used to the sharp discomfort that came with being a hunter. You didn’t need help. You could handle this on your own. You’d always been able to.

But Dr. Zayne wasn’t having any of it.

His voice, low and steady, broke through the haze of your thoughts. "You’re bleeding. Those need first aid," he said firmly, his frown deepening as he glanced at your scraped knees. "Sit. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute."

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him you were fine, but the words caught in your throat. He wasn’t asking. His tone, though gentle, was authoritative—demanding in its own quiet way. There was something about the way he carried himself, that calm, unflinching presence, that made it impossible to argue.

"I’m fine, I am a hunter." you managed to say, your voice rougher than you intended. "I can handle it at home. Really." You tried to force a reassuring smile

“Is this a hunter thing?” he interrupted, one brow arching skeptically. “Are all of you this stubborn about basic care, or is it just you?”

The words should have been biting, but his tone was almost... patient. Like he was accustomed to dealing with difficult people.

You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of the sting in your knees and the heat of his gaze. “I’m not being stubborn,” you muttered. “I just don’t want to bother anyone over something so small.”

“Small injuries have a way of turning into bigger problems,” he said, folding his arms. “And I’m not bothered. As a doctor, I’m asking you to wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Without waiting for your protest, he turned and strode off, leaving you no room to argue.

You sat stiffly on the bench, gripping the edge as the minutes dragged on. The ache in your knees was nothing compared to the gnawing discomfort blooming in your chest. Anxiety clawed at you, whispering insidious doubts.

He’s wasting his time on you.He probably thinks you’re pathetic and weak.Why couldn’t you have just gotten up and left?

Your fingers curled into fists, the tension radiating through your body.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your spiraling thoughts, and Dr. Zayne was back, carrying a small first aid kit. He knelt in front of you without a word, his hands steady as he cleaned the cuts on your knees. The gentle pressure of his fingers as he worked felt almost surreal. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just… calm. You found yourself drawn to it, to the quiet that seemed to settle around him.

"You’re lucky," he said, glancing up at you as he bandaged your knees. "That could’ve been a lot worse."

You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, things you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know where to start. So you remained silent, watching as he finished his work, his hands moving with the practiced precision of someone who had seen too many injuries to count.

When he was done, he straightened up and met your gaze. "You should be more careful," he said softly, his voice a little lighter than before, though there was still a note of concern underlying his words. "Next time, don’t run so late at night. You never know what could happen."

You forced a tight smile, the words feeling like they were coming from someone else. "I’ll keep that in mind," you said, your voice quieter now.

Dr. Zayne took a step back after finishing the bandages, his sharp gaze softening ever so slightly as he packed the first aid kit. You glanced at him, your mouth opening to thank him, but before you could get the words out, he said, almost in unison, “Thank you.”

Both of you froze, the simultaneous expressions of gratitude hanging awkwardly in the air. A surprised laugh slipped out of you, breaking the tension.

“You first,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “I was just going to say thank you for… you know, helping with this.” You gestured vaguely toward your knees, the bandages clinging to your skin. “You didn’t have to.”

The moment stretched between you, awkward yet somehow comforting. Zayne gave a small, almost amused smile at the simultaneous gratitude, but his gaze softened when it landed on you, his concern still present.

"Thank you for returning my wallet," he said, his tone steady but with a hint of appreciation.

His words caught you off guard. “Oh, right! That. It wasn’t a big deal, really.” You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze. “I found it at the chocolatier shop. I figured it was better to bring it to the hospital than leave it lying around.”

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “I appreciate it. Not many people would go out of their way like that.”

You tried not to let his kindness throw you off, but it wasn’t easy. There was something about Zayne that made you feel... small in a way you didn’t like to feel. He was kind, yes, but that kindness made you wonder if you were deserving of it. Why should you be the one he cared about?

But before you could dwell on that any further, his voice cut through your swirling thoughts.

"Have you eaten today?" His tone was light, but there was an edge of sincerity beneath it, one that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. It reminded you of that conversation in the shop, of how he had so effortlessly read through your tiredness.

The sheepish look that crossed your face must’ve been obvious, because Zayne sighed, the sound so deep that it almost felt like a reprimand. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that was both familiar and surprisingly endearing.

“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” he said, his voice almost too gentle for the weight of his words. “It’s not healthy to go without food, especially if you’re going to keep running around like you hunters do.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him it wasn’t a big deal, but Zayne didn’t give you the chance.

"There’s a diner close by. It’s the least I can do to thank you for returning my wallet."

You shook your head instinctively, trying to backpedal. "It’s really not necessary," you said, but Zayne wasn’t having any of it. His eyes were firm, and there was an undeniable warmth behind them that almost made you feel guilty for refusing.

"Yes, it is," he replied, his tone steady but with a hint of finality. "Now, come on.”

You hesitated for a moment, the unease building in your chest like a brick wall, but the thought of Zayne’s calm, commanding presence made it impossible to say no. So, with a quiet sigh, you relented.

"I’ll pay," you muttered as he led the way, the words almost reflexive. You always felt like you had to pay your way—like it was your responsibility to do so, especially with someone who had helped you, even in the smallest of ways. You were used to standing on your own two feet.

Zayne only gave you a side glance, his lips quirking up in the barest of smiles. "No, you won’t. It’s my thank you, remember?"

The diner wasn’t far from where you had been, a cozy, low-lit place with a soft hum of quiet conversations and the clink of silverware against plates. The familiar scent of warm food—steak, mashed potatoes, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh bread—immediately filled the air as you stepped inside. You followed Zayne to a small booth in the back, the vinyl seats creaking under your weight as you slid in.

You wanted to say something—thank you, maybe—but the words felt stuck, trapped somewhere in the pit of your stomach, along with everything else that had been piling up for weeks. Zayne didn’t seem to notice, his focus already turning to the menu as he gestured for you to pick something.

You wanted to ask him more, to understand him in the same way you understood the empty streets you ran through, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just end up looking foolish. So, instead, you stared at the menu in front of you, unable to focus on the choices, as your mind churned with questions that had no answers.

Zayne ordered for both of you, his voice low as he made his choices, and when he looked at you, you caught a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity, or was it concern? It was hard to tell.

"You should eat more regularly," he said again, as though the words were a reminder he had to repeat for his own peace of mind. You nodded, letting the silence fill the space between you for a moment.

The food arrived, warm and satisfying, and you took a bite, surprised at how hungry you were despite the earlier denials. Zayne watched you for a moment, his gaze softening as you ate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. His concern, his care—it felt too much. You weren’t used to people worrying about you.

But as the meal went on, you found yourself starting to relax, the initial tension loosening from your shoulders. Zayne was easy to talk to, his calm, steady presence settling you in a way you hadn’t expected. By the end of the meal, you felt... lighter.

"Call me Zayne," he said when the check came, his voice quiet but sincere.

You blinked, a little caught off guard by the request. "Zayne?" you echoed, testing the name on your tongue.

"Yes," he replied with a small, patient smile. "It’s easier than 'Dr. Zayne,' don’t you think?"

You blinked, taken aback. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve earned the title—”

“And I’ll still have it in the hospital,” he interrupted, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But here, it’s just Zayne.”

You nodded slowly, testing the name in your mind. It felt strange, almost too personal. But there was something grounding about it, too.

By the time dessert arrived, the knot of anxiety in your chest had loosened considerably. The warmth of the diner, the steady cadence of his voice, and the shared laughter over a poorly made joke had a way of pulling you out of your own head. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you weren’t obsessing over your failures or doubts.

As you finished your meal, Zayne pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. “Here,” he said simply. “Add your number. In case you ever need anything.”

You hesitated, the gesture feeling far more intimate than it probably was. But his expression was patient, expectant, and you found yourself entering your contact information before you could overthink it. When you handed the phone back, his lips twitched into a faint smile.

“Thanks again for returning my wallet,” he said, his tone lighter now. “And for the company.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but this time, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It’s not a problem,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

As you stepped out of the diner and into the cool night air, a strange sense of calm settled over you. Zayne walked you to the corner where your paths would diverge, his presence steady and reassuring.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate.

“You too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The diner’s warmth lingered even as you stepped into the cool night air. For the first time in what felt like weeks, your chest didn’t feel as tight, the oppressive weight that had been bearing down on you now lifting slightly. You still felt the ache of Sylus’ absence—a hollow, gnawing sensation that seemed to creep in whenever you let your guard down, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been. Instead, a new sensation fluttered in its place, tentative and fragile: excitement. It was strange to feel this way, to look forward to the possibility of a friendship formed under such unlikely circumstances. Zayne’s calm demeanor, his steady presence, had surprised you.

As you walked, the sound of fluttering wings caught your attention. Instinctively, your heart skipped, your mind jumping to Mephisto. You tilted your head to the dark sky, half-expecting to see the telltale silhouette of his familiar. But it was just a cluster of pigeons, their wings catching the faint glow of the streetlights as they soared away.

Right. Of course. It was unlikely that Sylus was watching you tonight.

You exhaled, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and forced your thoughts away from him. Zayne had offered you a rare moment of normalcy, and you weren’t about to let your memories of Sylus overshadow that.

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The following weeks were a blur of activity, and before long, you found yourself stationed at an outpost on the outskirts of Linkon. A metaflux surge had disrupted the area, and the temporary makeshift hospital was bustling with injured workers, hunters, and even a few civilians caught in the chaos. The air was thick with tension, the metallic tang of metaflux faint but persistent, a reminder of the unseen dangers that lurked just beyond the safety of the encampment.

Zayne was assigned as the doctor for the outpost, and you often found yourself crossing paths with him. At first, your interactions were brief—a nod here, a shared glance there—but over time, you began to talk. It started with simple pleasantries, discussions about the metaflux readings or the influx of patients, but it wasn’t long before the conversations deepened.

You learned that Zayne had a dry sense of humor, his sharp wit often catching you off guard. He’d tease you about your stubbornness, and you’d retort with a quip about his overly serious nature. Despite his professionalism, there was a warmth to him, a quiet compassion that made him easy to trust. And though you’d never admit it, you found yourself looking forward to those moments of shared laughter, those fleeting glimpses of something lighter amidst the chaos.

But even as your friendship with Zayne grew, Sylus lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. The conversations you had with him were sparse and strictly work-related—updates from the Association, bits of intel you passed along to him. It felt transactional, a far cry from the intimacy you once shared. Yet, every time his name appeared on your screen, your heart still raced, betraying the fragile boundaries you’d tried to set.

One evening, a message from Sylus broke the monotony of your routine.

‘Come over tomorrow night, Darling. I have an exquisite wine I’d like you to try—procured it during a recent deal.’

The invitation was simple, almost casual. For a moment, you imagined it—the rich scent of wine filling the air, his sharp yet alluring gaze fixed on you as he poured you a glass. But reality quickly crept in, dragging you back to the present. You couldn’t go. You couldn’t risk it. Not when your heart was still so fragile, still aching in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as your mind raced. The truth was, you wanted to see him. But you knew better. You had to keep your distance—for your own sake, if nothing else.

‘I’m tired..'

You typed, the words feeling hollow as they formed.

'Busy day tomorrow. Maybe another time.’

You hesitated before hitting send, the weight of the message pressing down on you. When his reply came, it was as simple as his invitation.

‘Okay.’

The finality of it hit you like a brick, and for a moment, you felt like your breath had been stolen away. He didn’t push. He didn’t argue. That empty “okay” hung in the air, leaving you with the quiet realization that, once again, you had lost yourself in the haze of someone else’s world.

You tried not to read too much into it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already moved on. That he didn’t care enough to fight for your attention. Instead, it felt like you were just a passing thought, like an aftertaste that wasn’t worth savoring.

Miss Hunter. The words echoed in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stay behind your eyelids, but they pressed hard, a sting that never seemed to fully fade. You rubbed your forehead, trying to push away the thoughts. But even as you did, you couldn’t escape the suffocating feeling in your chest—the one that always came when you were reminded of how little you meant to him. You felt foolish, but you couldn’t help it. It was like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to come back, to pull you back into his orbit with that practiced charm, that voice that made you feel wanted, if only for a little while.

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The dinner with Zayne had been a welcome reprieve. It had been two weeks since you last saw him, the demands of work pulling both of you in different directions. But tonight, seated across from him in a small, cozy bistro, you found solace in the familiar rhythm of your conversations. The mellow lights softened the sharp angles of his face as he recounted a mishap earlier in the week involving a particularly irritable patient.

His dry humor, paired with the subtle lift of his brow, drew a laugh from you—a genuine, light sound that felt foreign after the weight of recent days. For a while, the world outside blurred away. You weren’t Miss Hunter; you weren’t anything other than a person sharing a meal with a friend.

As the meal wound down, Zayne looked at you over the rim of his glass, his expression calm. “You’re doing better than when we first met.” he remarked softly.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Am I?”

He nodded. His calm demeanor always had a way of grounding you, and tonight was no exception.

The meal wrapped up with the two of you trading small updates and light banter. You paid for your half of the meal, Zayne insisting it wasn’t necessary, but you’d insisted back. There was a sense of normalcy here, something you weren’t willing to let go of easily. When you parted ways outside the diner, the night air was cool and quiet. Zayne’s warm farewell echoed softly in your ears as you waved goodbye and headed back toward your apartment.

As you walked, you felt lighter somehow. The stress of the past few weeks hadn’t vanished, but Zayne’s steady presence had reminded you of something important—moments of peace still existed, even in the chaos.

The faint scent of lavender greeted you as you unlocked your apartment door, a hint of the candle you’d left burning earlier. The lights were off, and the air felt too still—unnaturally so. Your heart skipped, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. A lump formed in your throat, panic curling its fingers around your chest.

You flicked the light switch, and the sudden brightness flooded the room, revealing the figure sitting on your couch. Sylus.

You froze. Your body stiffened, caught between fight or flight.

Your yelp of surprise filled the space, your pulse racing as you clutched the doorframe for support. “What—Sylus? What are you doing here?”

He was sitting on your couch, one arm draped casually along the backrest, his other hand resting on his knee. The dim light of the room softened the sharp edges of his face, but his expression was anything but gentle. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, tracked your every movement as if he were dissecting you with just a glance.

“How—what are you doing here?” you stammered, your voice shaky as your pulse raced.

Sylus didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dragging over you slowly, deliberately. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken, and it made your skin prickle.

“Darling,” he finally murmured, his voice low and smooth, laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You look… exhausted.”

You blinked, still standing frozen by the door. His tone was soft, almost tender, but it was the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers tapped against his knee, that betrayed his underlying tension.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice wavering as you took a cautious step forward. “It’s been a long day. What are you doing here?”

Sylus leaned back, the leather of the couch creaking faintly under his weight. “A long day,” he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yet you had time for dinner.”

“I…” you faltered, scrambling for a response. “It was just…”

“Just dinner,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone unreadable. “With… someone else.”

The air felt thick, charged with a tension that made your skin prickle. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still calm but his body language telling a different story. The way his fingers drummed against his knee, the slight clench of his jaw, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.

Your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. Why was he here? What did he want? And why did his presence—his very existence in your space—make your chest ache in that familiar, suffocating way?

“I didn’t think…” You stopped yourself, your voice trembling. “You didn’t say you’d be coming by. You can’t just—”

“Can’t just what?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he rose from the couch, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Show up to see what’s wrong?”

Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. “Nothing’s wrong…”you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that so?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve been avoiding me, Darling.”

The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding.

“I’ve been busy…” you said weakly, your voice lacking conviction.

“Busy,” he repeated, his gaze flicking over you again, this time with something close to disdain. “Too busy for me, but not too busy for… him.”

Your hands fidgeted at your sides, your breath coming in shallow bursts. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt rooted to the spot. “I didn’t think dinner with a friend would..”

“Friend?” he interrupted, the single word slicing through your sentence. His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, the anxiety swirling in your chest mixing with something else—something raw and painful that you didn’t want to name. The memories of your last exchange with Sylus came flooding back—the curt messages, the unspoken finality of his “okay.” You had tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t need his validation. But standing here now, under the weight of his gaze, you felt every crack in the fragile walls you had built to keep him out.

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” you said finally, the words trembling as they left your lips.

His eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his posture didn’t ease. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, something important, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so gentle it felt almost foreign.

“Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that made your chest ache.

Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you. The words echoed in your mind, repeating, twisting, until all you could hear was the raw edge of betrayal laced in his tone.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter, a little too loud in the quiet of your apartment. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you felt the space around you grow smaller. You couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. All you could feel was the heat of anger building inside of you, raw and unrefined.

“That’s rich,” you scoffed, finally managing to find your voice. “That’s really rich, coming from you of all people.”

Sylus blinked, a subtle flash of surprise crossing his face, but it quickly masked over. His lips tightened, his brow furrowed ever so slightly, but it wasn’t enough. You had to push, you couldn’t hold back now. The words were tumbling out before you could even stop them. Your breath hitched, a strangled sob lodged somewhere in the back of your throat, but you refused to let it spill. You wouldn’t let him see you break—not like this, not in front of him. You knew the truth. He knew the truth. It hurt, yes, but you weren’t the one to blame.

“You've been treating me like a stranger for months,” you continued, your voice trembling with anger you hadn't fully realized was there. “Barely responding to my messages, not answering my calls, and when I do see you, it’s like you can’t be bothered. You don’t even see me.” You felt the weight of every unreturned message, every unanswered call, every promise left in limbo. “I’ve had to hear from Luke and Kieran that you’re in Linkon. But you couldn’t even make time to see me.”

You felt the ache deep in your chest, that familiar, suffocating knot forming. He didn’t deserve your pain. Not anymore. You wouldn’t let him have that. Not this time.

You took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling raw, exposed. “You don’t have to feel obligated to check on me, Sylus,” you said, your words clipped and cutting through the thick silence between you. “You don’t have to feel pity for me. I know where I stand. I know my place in your life.”

His expression, that unreadable mask, cracked for the briefest of moments. His lips parted, his gaze flicking to your face, then back down to the floor. His jaw clenched. But his eyes… They weren’t the same as they’d been earlier. The hardness was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous, something even more intimate. The storm was gathering, but it wasn’t just in the air—no, it was inside him too.

“You know where you stand?” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness you hadn’t noticed before. He took a step forward, his body closing the space between you, like a wave of raw energy crashing toward you. His proximity only made your pulse race faster, but you couldn’t back down. Not now.

“I’m just an informant, right?” you bit out, every word feeling like it sliced through the night air, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You don’t have to pretend you care, Sylus. So don’t stand there with that look on your face like I’m some important thing you need to check on.”

The air between you grew heavy, thick with unsaid words and stifled tension. Every inch of your body was telling you to get away, to shut down, to stop this before it tore you apart. But your feet felt heavy, stuck in place. Sylus’s presence was like gravity, pulling you toward him.

"You think that's all you are?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low, like the calm before the thunder. The way he said it made your heart stutter in your chest. It was both a question and an accusation or a challenge.

But there was something else in his voice. Something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were intense, too intense, and they searched yours like he was looking for the answer. The truth.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continued, his words clipped, as though they were difficult for him to say. “But I couldn’t....couldn’t make sense of it. Of you.”

It was the first time that he seemed genuinely vulnerable, and it left you breathless and confused. You had always wondered if there was more beneath his cold exterior. You had always told yourself that he cared. But you had never dared to confront him.

His hand was close enough now to reach out, his fingers barely brushing the edge of your wrist. The air between you was still thick with everything unsaid, everything unhealed. And yet, despite the words that had been thrown between you, there was something undeniably magnetic in the tension. The ache in your chest, the rawness, the feelings of betrayal—they didn’t wash away just because you said them out loud.

God, you hated him for this.

But part of you yearned for him. That part that still felt tethered to him, despite the distance.

Sylus’s fingers hovered over your wrist, his touch like fire against your skin. For a moment, the storm between you calmed, leaving only the faintest echo of it behind. The weight of his gaze, the force of his presence—it seemed to drown out the rest of the world.

He said nothing for a moment, his lips parting as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His eyes darkened further, not with anger now, but with something you couldn’t quite define.

You took a breath, your body suddenly feeling too small beneath his gaze. The storm was still inside. You had to move away. Your heart pounded as if it were trying to escape your chest, desperate to flee from whatever was stirring inside you. You couldn't—no, you wouldn’t—let yourself get caught up in whatever this feeling was. You were not some fool, ready to throw everything away for the temporary pull of his presence. You knew better than that. You had to.

Every instinct screamed at you to retreat, to put some distance between you and the mess of emotions bubbling under your skin. His sharp gaze was enough to make your knees tremble, and it took everything in you not to look back, not to let him see the quiet devastation that flickered inside you.

“You need to leave… Sylus.” You whispered. You staggered back a few steps, your breathing shallow, desperate. Your feet felt like lead, yet you forced yourself to walk away. You turned your back to him, willing your legs to move, hoping to escape before you got sucked into whatever dark vortex of feelings he was drawing you into.

He didn’t move. Instead, you heard the familiar click of his boots against the floor as he took a single, deliberate step forward. “Why?” His voice, low and curious, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost too intimate, as if he were searching for a piece of you, trying to understand what you couldn’t explain.

You didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see the quiet confusion on his face—the faint flicker of disappointment that stung like salt in an open wound. You couldn’t let him see your weakness, couldn’t let him know how badly it hurt to be around him, how badly it hurt not to be around him.

“Is it so you can run back to your precious ‘friend’?” The words dripped with something unspoken, something that made your stomach twist.

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not when his voice—that voice, the one that threaded through the air like silk—was digging into your mind like this. The word echoed in your ears, almost mocking you, and you felt something fragile snap inside you. The weight of the years you’d spent keeping distance, of guarding your heart against him, against whatever he made you feel, started to unravel. But you couldn’t let it.

You took another step away from him. One more step, you told yourself. Just one more. You didn’t need this.

Dark tendrils wrapped around you as you move, pulling you back. He was using his evol to pull you back. You didn’t need him pulling you in again. But then it came. That touch. He pulled you to him, forceful yet intimate, and your breath caught in your throat. You were too close. Too close to the edge of losing yourself, of falling into his presence.

His hands...no, his fingers—snaked around your waist before you even knew what was happening. You gasped, body going stiff in surprise, but his grip tightened, pulling you back into him. You tried to keep moving, tried to pull away, but it was useless. His hold was ironclad, his presence consuming. His grip tightened slightly, but there was an almost comforting pressure there, a subtle reminder that despite the dispute between you, there was something undeniable between the two of you.

“Why are you running?” His voice was a whisper against your ear, the words smooth like silk, but there was something jagged beneath them—something urgent, raw.

You struggled to hold yourself together, but the more you fought it, the more it pulled—this unbearable need to lean into him, to give in to the chaos that his proximity stirred in you. You knew you shouldn’t, but everything in you wanted to. You felt the ache of wanting something you couldn't have, the sting of the distance you had put between you and the thing that was somehow both poison and relief.

His hands tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your ribs in a movement that sent a jolt through your entire system. The words you wanted to say, the reasons you needed to get away from him, all felt so small and pointless now. How could you possibly explain this? This tension, this pull? How could you say that being near him felt like the most excruciating thing in the world, but also the only thing that made you feel alive?

“You’re not just an informant to me,” he breathed, his words slipping under your skin, curling into the tight spaces of your chest. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you this much. That you’d want to distance yourself from me...” His tone softened at the end, but it only made everything worse. The tenderness in his voice—his tenderness—was like a dagger in your side, making the blood in your veins freeze. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could hear was the deafening rush of your own heartbeat. You tried to stay composed, but the words were caught in your throat, and your body was still pressed so tightly against his, your breath shallow, your pulse thudding painfully against your ribs.

Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t you just say it—say that you couldn’t let him get close again? That you couldn’t survive another wound, another aching, empty feeling in your chest because of him? But the way his hands tightened, the warmth of his body against yours, made everything you were feeling a little too real.

You could feel his heartbeat against your back, the rhythm in sync with your own, and the pull of him was growing stronger. You could feel your anxiety bubbling up, the gnawing fear at the pit of your stomach. Was this just him toying with you? Was he trying to pull you into his world of darkness and manipulation? Or did he really care?

Your head was spinning. The emotions warred within you—anger, confusion, guilt, and something else. Something that made your heart race faster and your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

“Let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm that raged around you.

But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him off.

Sylus' grip on you tightened, his arm like a steel band around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His chest rises and falls against your back as his breath brushes against your ear, warm and heavy. It’s as if he’s afraid, like if he lets go for even a second, he’ll lose you forever. You can feel the tension radiating from him, but also something softer, something desperate.

“No, Darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with emotion, his tone possessive, as though the very idea of you slipping away shatters him. “You’re not going anywhere and neither am I.”

"You’re going to stay," He pulls you even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks again, quieter this time, but laced with something raw and vulnerable. "...and you’re going to listen to me. I won’t let you walk away from this."

You can hear the flicker of something beneath his words—regret. And then, his lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering just a little longer than necessary. He slowly spins you around, to face him. His voice softens, almost apologetic. “I know I was a dick. I know I didn’t respond to you, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know how to handle it… handle us. It confused me, and instead of facing it, I pushed you away.” His breath catches slightly, and you feel his chest tighten against your back.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly toward him, his thumb brushing over your skin as though it’s a promise, an apology. The weight of his gaze is intense, but there’s also something tender there, something that wants to pull you back in, closer. “I know you’re still hurting, darling. I see it. And I... I’ll spend a lifetime making up for it, because that’s what I want. A lifetime. With you. Not as some informant or some... thing, but as my beloved. You. By my side. Always.”

He pauses, letting his words hang in the air between you. His voice drops, the quiet sorrow of his confession sending a twinge of guilt through you. "I don’t have the right to ask this of you, I know," Sylus continues, his voice thick with emotion. "But seeing you push me away… It’s harder than I ever thought it would be. Harder than I want to admit." He presses his forehead lightly against your temple, his breath shaky. "I’ve never needed someone the way I need you, and I didn’t know how to tell you that. But I do. I need you."

You can feel him tense slightly, the shift in his demeanor telling you that his thoughts have turned darker. His voice lowers, the jealousy evident in the way he speaks, though it’s wrapped in a softness that almost makes it harder to bear.

"And Dr. Zayne... I can’t stand the thought of him being so close to you," Sylus adds, his voice low and thick with a possessiveness that unsettles you in its intensity. "It kills me, you know? Watching him with you, hearing you laugh like that with him, as if I don’t even exist." His arm tightens again, almost painfully, as if he needs to remind you, remind both of you, where you truly belong. "I know I have no claim on you... but... I can't help but feel like there’s a part of you that wants him in a way that... I can't compete with." His voice hardens, jealousy dripping from every word. "It eats at me, knowing he has a part of you that I’m fighting for."

"Sylus..." Your voice cracked slightly as you repeated his name, your breath hitching, caught in the tension between you. His name felt heavy on your tongue, like it was both a question and an answer. You had never said it so quietly, so vulnerably. The memories of earlier came rushing back—him with her, that delicate smile he gave her, the way she leaned into him just a little too comfortably. It had burned in your chest, the jealousy creeping in with a venomous ache.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, too fast to gather, too painful to hide. "I felt the same... when I saw you with her," you confessed, swallowing thickly. "I felt so... so useless, Sylus. When I saw you with her, it felt like... like she was everything you needed. Better than me. And that... it broke me, Sylus. I felt like I wasn’t enough, like I wasn’t... worth it.”

The words stung, bitter and unrelenting, but the weight of them was finally lifted as you let them spill out. You felt exposed, naked in your insecurity, but somehow, it was all you could do to stand there and wait for him to respond. You could feel the weight of it, of how small you’d felt in that moment, how unworthy you had become in your own eyes. The self-doubt gnawed at your insides, each thought of her with him twisting like a knife in your gut.

Sylus’s expression softened, his features melting into a tender sadness, as though he were seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you. His hand reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. His touch was a gentle comfort, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his voice a low whisper, "Darling, you're none of that... none of it, I swear."

You shook your head, feeling the tears threatening, but you couldn’t let them fall, not yet. His words were kind, but the ache in your chest was still there, an unhealed wound.

He continued, his voice steady but thick with something deeper. "I didn’t know you felt that way... about her, in the same way I feel about Zayne." His gaze met yours, and for the first time tonight, it wasn’t uncertain. It was so gentle, so soft, tender. "But you need to know, you're it for me, Darling…" he murmured, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the quiet storm of your emotions. "Yes, I want help from her, but..." He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, "...I need you more." His words were a balm to the wounds that had festered within you, but the tenderness in his eyes was what finally reached you. His hand slid down to your shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin there. His warmth surrounded you, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his words. The jealousy, the insecurity that had burned so fiercely in you when you saw him with her, melted in the face of the tenderness he was offering now.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself as your heart raced, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. “Zayne… Zayne’s just a friend,” you said, your voice fragile but firm, “someone who helped me... helped me see past the stuff in my head. After everything, I just... needed someone to remind me that I’m not broken.”

Sylus's eyes softened even more, the depth of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. He nodded slowly, his expression filled with understanding. The tension between you didn’t disappear entirely, but it was now laced with something more tender. More real.

“You’re not broken, Darling.” he repeated, and there was a quiet strength in his voice, something that made you believe him more than you ever had before. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed... and more.”

"I... I’m sorry," you whispered, a lump in your throat as you looked up at him. "I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t care. I just... I was afraid you’d choose her over me."

Sylus’s fingers brushed against the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "You never have to apologize for that, Darling." he murmured, his voice warm, his breath mingling with yours. “It was my fault and I accept that.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of your breathing, as Sylus stood before you, his face drawn with intensity. The flickering light from the lamp cast soft shadows across his features, but his gaze... his gaze was sharp, focused entirely on you.

"I love you, Darling" he said, his words lingering in the air as though they were the first time he had allowed himself to say them out loud. "I’m in love with you," he confessed, his voice steady despite the raw emotion that tinged it. "I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve tried to deny it. Tried to hide it from you and myself, but I can’t anymore. I won’t. I love you, and I need you to know that."

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding caught in your throat. Everything in you froze, then splintered. The confession, so pure, so vulnerable, hit you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for. You stood there, unable to move, a mix of surprise and relief flooding your chest.

He loves you. Sylus. The one you had longed for, yearned, and hoped for in silence. Your heart stuttered in your chest, the world around you growing impossibly still.

"I…" you whispered, voice trembling, and you had to stop, had to steady yourself before the words could spill from your lips. "I’ve love you too," you said, your voice barely more than a breath, but it carried all the weight of everything you had kept inside. "I’ve loved you, and I never told you because I was afraid. Afraid that I was asking too much. Afraid of the rejection. Afraid that I wasn’t enough."

Sylus’s expression softened, his lips curling into a frown as he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hands reached for you, but not in the way you had feared or expected. They were gentle, his touch a plea for understanding. "Oh, darling," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you ever felt like you needed to hide it from me."

He reached up, brushing his thumb along your cheek, and you flinched slightly, your emotions suddenly overwhelming you, raw and untamed. "We’re both idiots," he continued, his voice almost tender with the weight of the admission. "We’ve been skirting around each other, afraid of saying the one thing we both needed to say."

Your laugh came out soft, almost fragile, the tension in your chest breaking for the first time since Sylus had walked into your home. It was a quiet sound, but it was the first time you’d laughed all night, the first time you’d allowed yourself to feel something other than fear or uncertainty in the past few weeks with him involved. But that laugh didn’t last long. As soon as it came, the tears followed, the ones you had been holding back for so long, finally slipping free. The dam you had built up crumbled, and before you could stop them, hot tears streamed down your face. before you could even reach up to brush them away, his hand was there, steady and warm against your cheek.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice thick with the ache you could no longer hide. "Please, don’t look at me like this. I’m—"

"Stop," Sylus interrupted softly, his hand holding yours gently, his gaze unwavering. "Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of you… everything you’ve been hiding. I know you think I don’t see it, but I do." His eyes locked onto yours with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. "I see it when you think I’m not watching. I see the way you pull back, the way you hide the parts of you that you think I can’t handle. But I am looking. I’ve always been looking. And I don’t want you to hide anymore. Not from me. And I’m here and I want all of you."

His words were a medicine to the parts of you that had been bruised, the parts that had feared being exposed, vulnerable. But in his eyes, there was only love. No judgment. No pity. Just... love. And it was enough. It was more than enough.

The tears that had slipped down your face slowed, but they didn’t stop. You didn’t try to wipe them away this time, allowing yourself to be seen for the first time in ages. The sobs that followed were soft but trembled with relief, with something finally breaking open inside of you.

Sylus’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you close, holding you in the kind of embrace that made you feel as though you could finally breathe, as though the weight of everything you had been carrying could finally be set down.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, almost broken. "I’ve been so scared, Sylus. Scared of this, of being cast away... of losing you."

"You’ll never lose me, Darling." he murmured, his voice firm and unwavering as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

You tilted your head back slightly, your face still damp with the remnants of the tears that had fallen, and through your wet lashes, you searched his face. Sylus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that made you feel safe, even as the doubts lingered in your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, buried deep beneath the surface.

He must have seen it in your eyes, the way you still hesitated, the uncertainty you couldn't quite shake. Sylus made a half-frustrated sound in the back of his throat, his hands tightening around you for a split second, before they slid up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, a tender, pleading touch, before he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a sudden, urgent kiss.

The kiss was unlike any other. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t soft. It was intense, filled with desperation, as though he needed you to understand just how deeply he felt for you, just how much you meant to him. His hands cupped your face, holding you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment, as if the world had stopped turning just for you. His lips pressed against yours with a kind of fire, but it wasn’t angry, no. It was passionate, desperate in its own way, like he wanted you to feel how important you were to him, how much you had been wanted, loved.

Your hands trembled as they reached up, gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to bridge the distance between you, as though the kiss itself could erase every lingering doubt in your heart. Your breath hitched when you felt his pulse quicken under your touch, his heartbeat matching the frantic pace of your own. Each breath you took seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, mingling with the heat of his kiss, our lips moving together with a quiet urgency, the world beyond the two of you fading into a distant blur. You felt everything—every brush of his fingers, every subtle shift of his body against yours, the way his chest rose and fell beneath your palms, how his breath felt against your lips as if he couldn’t get close enough to you.

Your chests rose and fell together, the world spinning around you. You could feel the heat of him, the urgency that still lingered in his touch, the way he kept you close, almost as if he were afraid to let go.

Breathing became an afterthought, both of you gasping for air when the kiss broke, but neither of you pulled far enough away to lose the connection. Sylus’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispered, voice still heavy with emotion. “Every day, from henceforth, I will work to make sure you never feel the need to doubt yourself. Not in my life. Not with me." His words, slow and deliberate, sank deep into your heart like a promise he would keep.

The intensity of the moment hung between you both, the room still, save for the soft sound of your breathing as you both slowly came back to reality. But in his eyes, you saw nothing but certainty—certainty that you were enough. That you always had been.

His hand found yours again, fingers weaving with yours, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, as if the simple touch was a quiet reassurance.

"You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice steady now, grounding you as much as his embrace. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing his words, his warmth, his certainty. In his arms, you could feel the truth of his promise, somewhere deep inside, the doubts began to fade.

For the first time in a long time, you believed him. And when he kissed you again, this time softer, it was like the beginning of something new.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

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pastel-peach-writes · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! I adore your writing. Can I request a fic with female arcane characters when they have a touch starved gf? (Definitely asking for a friend ahah 😅)

RAHHH. ARCANE LADIES LETS GOOO. tbh, im not that in tune with Mel and Sevika as characters so they may be OOC. Thanks for requesting!

Arcane Ladies w/A Touch-Starved Reader | Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: Headcanons of Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, and Sevika with a touch-starved lover and/or discovering said trait.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Lower Case Intended (Kinda?), Suggestive Themes (Mel/Sevika), Not Proofread, Short

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

JINX ᝰ๋࣭𝜗᭡

- In a romantic setting (or really any setting), Jinx is touch-starved herself.

- when taking hostages or messing with those in her way, she will often touch them such as stroking her nail along their jawline or grabbing their chin when they're hurt and on their last limb.

- now she does this not because she's a bit insane and wants to add salt to their wounds but because she's curious. "What would this feel like?" "What would happen if I do this?"

- Much like most things in her life, curiosity is the main thing that gets her into trouble

- in terms of touching, you're not exempt from her touching curiosity.

- she'll drag her nails along your spine. cup your cheek and chin, and squeeze you like the baby you are to her.

- it's not until you linger after a hug that she notices your touch-starved like her

– since that moment, she made a mental note to cuddle you, kiss you, or poke at you more

– even if you tell her to stop annoying you or that she should focus on her work and not mess with you, she'll continue to poke and hold you.

– why? well because you're smiling through your complaints and she can't get over that smile you try to hide when you let yourself melt in her touch

–––

VI ﾒ

– much like her sister, Vi is touch-starved herself.

– y'all saw how she acted with Caitlyn and when she reunited with Jinx. She was all OVER them. With you, she's the exact same

– With her, you're more reluctant with touch. You want to hug her, cuddle with her, cling onto her like the clingy thing you are but you're scared to.

– you didn't grow up in an environment where that was normalized so it was out of your comfort zone to go out and cling to someone.

– in the beginning of your relationship, Vi was touchy until she noticed you weren't super comfortable with it.

– when she noticed, she had a discussion with you. – "Hey, are you comfortable with me hugging you 'n stuff? I noticed you get kinda tense when I first hug you." She'll ask you on a random night in the living room. You were hesitant at first, wanting to immediately ease her insecurities and tell her everything was fine.

– But if you lied, even if the lie was more a half-truth, your initial reaction to her touch would be the same. Tense at first then ease seconds into the touch.

– So, because you couldn't do anything but bite the bud, you told her

– Since telling, Vi said she'll help you work on getting more comfortable with touch.

– She'll even tease you when she notices you're more hesitant than normal.

– "Oh, come on," she'll tease you with her arms squeezing around your torso and your cheeks smushing to another. "You know you love it! Ease up, Mufifn."

–––

CAITLYN ᯓ

- With Caitlyn, you literally CANNOT get off of her. Can't blame you though.

- 6' foot something to cling onto? YUM.

- Caitlyn didn't mind your touchiness. She assumed you were that way so she didn't think anything of it.

- It wasn't until she met your family that she saw that your touchy side is something you keep hidden from your family, if not the world.

- You were so stiff around them, uncomfortable dare she say. You kept to yourself, restricted that pretty smile of yours, and you wouldn't let yourself ease into her touch.

- At home, she brought this up to you and you told her that being affectionate wasn't something your family did. To them, holding each other, hugging, expressing hellos and goodbyes with kisses was weird. Unfortunately for you, you're a naturally touchy person so you had to keep that part of you concealed.

- Caitlyn didn't like the thought of you hiding yourself from your blood kin. You didn't deserve that treatment so at home, after the event, Caitlyn went out of her way to be more touchy with you.

- she cradled your head when cuddling on the couch, gave you kisses on the cheek, and when she complimented you on something or congratulated you, she kissed the top of your head while giving you a polite squeeze.

– being super-duper-mushy-gushy-affectionate wasn't something she wasn't used to but she'll do anything for you. Plus, a couple extra kisses and squeezes haven't killed her yet.

–––

MEL౨ৎ

- You didn't care about touch all that much before your relationship with Mel. At the start of your relationship, you and Mel were younger so you had fewer responsibilities. All your free time, literally all of it, you guys spent with each other

- walking arm-in-arm while shopping, resting on each other on hot Summer days with your feet in a body of water, and mindlessly playing with each other's clothes or hair during late-night talks.

- but as she got busier, you saw her less, and seeing her less meant fewer touches.

- Mel wouldn't call herself touch-starved but starved for your touch.

– She'll miss your lingering touches on her fingers while you lay in bed, your lips on her back as you held each other, and your face in the crook of her neck.

– In a way, you both were touch-starved for each other. Maybe even a different word but this is a PG-13 space LMAO.

– at night, you would wrap your limbs around her tight and in the morning, you'd cling even tighter. What do you mean it's time for her to go already? She just got in bed!! (it's been 7 hours.)

– with Mel, your touch-starving-ness doesn't go unnoticed. In fact, whenever there's a time she notices you're more touchy than normal, she'll make it up to you

– And you never once complained about her way of making it up to you.

–––

SEVIKA ⚠︎

- oh lord, where do i start with this one, hm?

– One, Sevika loves the crap out of your touch-starved-ness. She won't admit this out loud but she thinks its the cutest thing in the world.

- She'll see you go in for a hug or maybe a wrap around her arm but then decide against it because of your own insecurities.

- Sometimes she'll take matters into her own hands and wrap her arm around you, pull you into her lap, or sneak a kiss on your cheek but other times she likes to make you suffer.

– "Mm, what was that?" she'll tease with a smirk on her lips. "Oh, did you want to hug me? Kiss me? Cling onto me or something?"

- Tbh, if you're with Sevika, you gotta be a little bit of a brat, right? right. So, you'll refuse the allegations she put on your name.

- That is until she pushes and pushes and boom. Like a perfectly boiled egg, your shell has been cracked and peeled, and the softness of your personality has been brought to light.

– with embarrassment plastered along your body and face, you'll do what you were too shy to before. (Cling, hug, kiss, etc).

- Sevika plays a big game but she loves it when you cling to her because just like you, she's a bit touch-starved too. The only touches she gets on a day-to-day basis are punches, kicks, etc.

- When you swallow your pride at home, you'll pull her down to your chest and hold her tight. She'll ask what's up but you'll just ignore her and she'll melt into your body like you intended.

WC: 1,229

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slytherinslut0 · 1 month ago

Text

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 28th. theodore nott. lorenzo berkshire — humiliation / degradation

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: never let enzo berkshire find out about one of your kinks. unless….

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, halloween ghostface costumes, threesome, fwb!theo, bestfriend!enzo, reader is involved in a bet unbeknownst to her, mask kink, humiliation on high, degradation, fingering, denied orgasm, oral m!rec, PIV, dirty talk, manipulation.

"Black cat mask?"

You shake your head, barely sparing the thing a glance.

"Mm, no. Too unoriginal."

"Right," Enzo sucks his teeth, tossing the mask back into the bin you're both half-heartedly rifling through. "Orange cat, then? That's far more fitting for you anyways."

"Enzo—no cats, please," you mutter, running a hand through your hair, staring down at the disheveled heap of plastic. None of it catches your eye, none of it sparks anything. "It's Halloween. I want something...scarier."

"Of course. Only day of the year you get to pretend you're as terrifying as me." He croons—half-laughing through the words. The tease itches in your mind, and you're halfway to some retort when he's already holding up another mask. "How about this one?"

You glance up, ready to dismiss whatever nonsense he's holding this time, but the sight of it stills the air in your lungs. A Ghostface mask. Stark white, hollow eyes staring back at you—it's grimace cast in a faded glow under tired shop lights. It's nothing—just a mask, just a piece of cheap plastic in Enzo’s hand—but your heart skips, stumbles, clutches at your ribs, and you can't look away.

And there's no goddamn reason for it, no logic—but you're already seeing it, aren't you? Your current fwb—Theo, standing over you; his face hidden, mask in place of those half-lidded eyes that you’ve learned to read so well. And you know—you know the thought is fucking absurd—yet, it knots something in your stomach, spreading heat like a fuse just lit.

"You alright there?" Enzo's teasing pulls you out of your thoughts, and you realize he'd been staring at you that entire time. "You're looking a little...hot."

Hot. Right. Of course he'd notice—of course your best friend would notice the way you went still, frozen in place as if someone struck you with Glacius. You're no good at lying to him, not even on a good day—and right now, your mind is in shambles, already too far gone into the fantasy and—

No. No more of this.

You tear away, fumbling for the edge of a cloak that suddenly seems like the most fascinating thing you've ever seen, your fingers tracing the fabric as if it can save you.

"It's...fine—it's nice," you blurt out, too quickly, too forced, the words tumbling over themselves. "Just—no, not really my thing."

But Enzo knows better. He can spot your lies from miles away. You hear him shift, the quiet rustle of the mask in his hands—and then, he's pulling it over his face, tilting his head just to spite you.

You don't have to look to know he's smirking behind it.

"Bullshit." He steps closer, casually closing the distance, but you know it's deliberate. "You're into this, aren't you?"

The warmth on your face feels like fire now, prickling heat across your skin. He shifts closer again, and for a moment you consider jinxing him—mind scattering into dark, unbidden places—filthy, wild things, flashing behind your eyes, too real. Enzo tilts his head the other way now, letting the mask catch the light, letting it grin.

"Should I get it?" He asks, as innocent as a serial killer. "For Nott, of course."

"No."

It scrapes out of your throat, barely audible, far too small to hold truth. You’re sure he can read you right now—all your depraved thoughts in the rasp of your voice, painfully transparent.

There’s a huff, a snort of sorts. "Are you sure? I think he'd love it."

Despite his insufferableness, he’s probably right. Theo has never shied away from indulging your kinks before. That’s what no strings is about. Maybe he would love it, you know you certainly would—gods how you’d love it—even if you’d rather die before admitting it.

The cloak—you focus on the deep purple velvet, the dark lace edging. "I'm sure. Put it back."

"You don't sound so sure." Gods, he's such an asshole—point only proved further as he takes another step closer. "Does this...does this turn you on?"

"Enzo—For Godric's sake, stop." The humiliation is suffocating. This is just a glimpse at your future should you ever decide to disclose this information to him. Relentless and bloody insufferable. "Let's just—pick something and go. Please?"

A pause, then, and you don't dare look up. The mask slips from his face with another soft, satisfied hum—you don't need to see him to feel the damage done. He knows.

"Sure, angel," he says, trailing as he turns. "Whatever you want."

————

"Matt—have you seen Theo?"

"Uh—not since earlier." Mattheo replies without even looking up, his focus on pouring another dangerous looking drink rather than on you. "He's probably just out for a smoke."

Yeah. Right. Forsure—because his smoke breaks last all bloody day. Doubt twists your stomach, but you nod anyway, grabbing your own drink—something bubbling, far too bright a green to be safe, but it burns down easy all the same. The room spins in a foggy haze, lights bleeding together over costumes, wizard and Muggle and something in between—and you struggle to tell who's who.

Theo had refused to tell you what he was dressing up as—claimed he wanted it to be a surprise. Now, that surprise is nowhere to be found.

"What are you supposed to be?" You raise a brow at Mattheo's striped inmate costume. “Your future?"

Riddle's eye flash as he pretends to be offended for about two seconds until his gaze drops to your own costume and his tongue darts over his lips, taking it in. Beer-maid, tight bodice, shorter than preferred. It's not what you were going for, not in the slightest, but it's all Pansy had in her closet to save you after you and Enzo failed to find anything interesting at the shop the other day.

"Maybe. But you definitely aren't dressed as yours." His attention shifts back to the crowd, a failed attempt at hiding his grin. "Way too much fabric."

You scoff, but that's just how Mattheo is—always a sly comment, always pushing. You roll your eyes and swat at him, but he sticks his tongue out at you and steps back, slipping off into the crowd with a final goodbye wink—and just as you lose track of him, Draco saddles up next to you, prattling on about something you don't care to listen to.

Great, that’s two annoying Slytherins accounted for. Where the fuck is Theo?

Five seconds into pretending to be interested in whatever Malfoy is babbling on about, you give up, turning back to the drink table and skimming over the options when someone new brushes up behind you—

"Enzo told me," the words barely register before you feel it—a hand settling low at your hip. "About your kink."

With lightening speed you twist your neck, glancing over your shoulder—only to fucking gasp at what you find there. That mask. The mask. The Ghostface one from the shop; the one Enzo hasn't let you forget, hasn't stopped teasing you about—you blink, your heart barrelling out of the room, fingers tightening around your cup until it hurts—

The mask tilts, just slightly. "Looks like he was right."

"Theo—"

"Go." His voice is muffled, but sweet Merlin—the sound of it makes your knees threaten to buckle right then and there. His hand slips lower, teasing against the ruffles of your dress. "Run, Bella. Let's play."

Your body locks up, muscles tense and poised on the edge of something feral. You can't look away. Can't think. Can't breathe. His fingers slip lower, lower, until you feel it—cold leather against the heat of your skin and your throat tightens, words dying dead on your tongue.

Run.

A slight lean, and the mask brushes your neck. "Now."

He steps back, a slow retreat, but it feels like he's tugging you with him. You spin to face him, smirking, your voice barely above a whisper—

"And when you catch me?"

"Find out." His head tilts toward the door. It's your cue.

Your feet move before your mind even catches up, slipping through the rowdy crowd, darting through the half-drunk revelers in their costumes—everything blurring into an afterthought as you push past the cobwebs, pumpkins, fake spiders, all the other Halloween decor filling the fogged ballroom. Your fingertips buzz from the adrenaline—pulse echoing in your ears as you dart down one hall after another, not quite sure where you're going, but knowing you need to keep moving.

Theo told you to run—so you run.

You sprint through the castle, the corridors empty save for your hurried footsteps and the scattered Halloween decorations lunging at you from the shadows. You round a corner, making for the dungeons. It's as good a place as any, right? Dark, quiet, somewhere to hide.

Few more minutes and you make it, lungs burning as you stumble into the dreary main hall. You realize the detention room is empty—and it's perfect. You take two steps inside, already thinking you'll be able to catch your breath when—

You slam headlong into something solid.

Head swirling, your vision barely refocuses before you feel a grip on your wrists, pulling you forward with enough force to make you gasp. Everything happens so fast you don't have enough time to process what's occurring before you're forced to focus on the thing you're seeing—ghostface. Staring down at you with those empty, gaping eyes. Unreadable.

It's then that you realize you're caught.

Something shifts behind the mask, an almost imperceptible movement of his head. You'd almost think you imagined it but given that there's nothing else to look at you know it's impossible. The silence is ballooning and you wonder if this is part of the game, if Theo is just savouring the moment, relishing in your reaction. The way you're trembling, your breath stuttering, the way you've gone still—waiting.

You swallow, throat drier than the Sahara, but something about this has you emboldened, the fact he's playing into your fantasy like this—so you decide to tease him, breaking the silence with a soft, breathless laugh as you pull one of your hands free from his grip.

He wanted to play. It's your turn to act the part.

"Looks like you caught me...Mr. Ghostface..." you purr—the silence sticks heavy, making the space between you feel thick, electric. All you can feel are his eyes devouring you. "And now...now that you've caught me...what are you gonna' do with me...hm?"

Gods—the thrill of this is so real, one your certain is more addictive than any drug. An adrenaline rush—not knowing what he's thinking, what he's about to do. Not being able to read him like you normally could. It makes your thighs quake—and there’s half a second where you wonder how much Enzo would pay to see this, how much he’d fucking taunt you for it.

But just as quickly as it came, you shake that thought—focused on Theo, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and sink to your knees, fingertips teasing from his chest to his abdomen, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

"...please don't punish me." You giggle—and the debauched absurdity of it all makes you nearly choke. "I'll be so good—I'll do anything, Theo—"

You feel him huff, tense, and when your fingers graze the front of his pants—just barely touching his crotch— his hand snaps down like a vice, gripping your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks.

And then, you hear it. "Salazar sakes—shit—"

Your heart plummets. That voice—it's like being thrown into ice-cold water. No, that's not—it can't be—

"Enzo?"

Your voice cracks as you all but screech, your head whipping up so fast you feel dizzy. No, no, no—

Enzo, who you previously thought was Theo, pulls the mask off and all but verbally confirms it. Your nightmare born to life. Spooling to fruition right in front of you. He smiles, lips curled into something thoroughly entertained, and gods, how his eyes glint with pure assholery—you could fucking kill him.

"Enzo—" you stammer, horror flushing through you, burning through the mortification lodged in your throat. "Gods—what the fuck—"

"Surprise," he breathes, like this is the most casual thing in the world to him.

You scramble back, knees scraping against cold stone—mind spiralling in every direction at once—shame collides with shock and it all burns under your skin, the kind of heat that never settles. You know Theo's voice. You could never mistake it. You know for a fact that was him back at the party— but this, this makes no sense.

"What...what the hell-" your voice stumbles like you're trying to outrun the words. "Why would you—what were you—"

"Relax," he is all too fucking calm. "It was a prank."

"A prank?" You're still on the floor, and for some reason that makes everything worse. "You call that a prank? A—a funny little joke?"

"That's usually the definition—"

"No." You hiss between clenched teeth, anger strangling any hope for composure. "What were you doing in here? This— this isn't—you were trying to-"

"Trying to what?" He sounds so goddamn innocent but you know better. He's toying with you, making sure you know it. He's been your best friend since you were kids but you never said it was by choice. He steps closer. "I was trying to what, angel?"

Your blood boils, the heat spreading fast—pooling low in your core against all specks of your sanity. He's relishing this, drinking in your mortification like it's fine wine—and for some reason, it makes you weak.

"You—" words die with another one of his steps, the toes of his shoes brushing against your skin as he crouches down in front of you, elbows resting casually on his knees. You sit back, ass meeting cold stone. "Enzo—"

"Yeah?" He cocks an eyebrow. "You just gonna' parrot my name all night? Maybe you're too embarrassed to speak?"

The constant mocking feels like ice and you want to slap that smug look right off his face but instead your fucking thighs tense. You have nothing to say—can only stare at him, lungs seizing further as you notice the smirk fading from his lips, something darker replacing it—

"You didn't even know who was under that mask, and you were ready to suck me off," he's whispering, but he may as well be screaming. "You'd do anything for anyone with a mask, huh? I wish I knew about this kink of yours sooner."

He leans in closer, his knees pushing yours apart—you and Enzo had never been strangers to toying the line of friendship one too many times while drunk, but this—

You blink. Staring at him. "You...you're enjoying this way too much."

"Guilty as charged." His smile spreads wider, cockier, his eyes dipping to your lips, then lower. You shiver involuntarily. "I know I should have stopped you sooner, but seeing you on your knees...in front of me...I just..."

He shakes his head before he slowly stands back up—and his eyes flicker to your chest, lingering on your fucking tits and not even trying to be subtle about it.

Then, there’s a sound—the sound of the door creaking open.

You barely hear it, the faint shuffle of footsteps, but it's enough to pull the grin from Enzo's face as he looks up. You're not sure your heart can handle anymore of this—plummeting to the stone beneath you as Theo steps into the room, dressed just like Enzo—black robes, black gloves, Ghostface mask.

"Nott." Enzo's voice is too casual, too easy. "Great timing, mate."

Theo’s silent as he takes in the scene. You—still on the floor, dress hitched up, legs spread. Enzo standing over you, smug, unbothered. Theo's presence fills the room as he shuts the door behind him and locks it, stoking your humiliation into something even hotter, something impossible to escape.

Theo's voice is flat, his tone too even. "Looks like you got caught."

Wait—

"You—" your gaze jumps between them, a wild panic bubbling up inside you. You're so fucking confused. "What is this? You two—"

"Like I said, a prank." Enzo says as he steps toward Theo, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "A bet, really.”

Theo doesn't respond. He doesn't move. He doesn't look away from you.

"A bet?" You choke out, trying to piece everything together. "What bet?"

"Well, you see, angel," Enzo pushes away from Theo and slumps down into a chair just off to the side of you. You feel the dread rolling in like a storm. "I bet big Theo here you'd get so weak in the knees over the mask, you wouldn't even notice the switch. As usual, I was right."

Andddd, there’s the dread. Yup. As expected whenever Enzo is fucking involved in anything.

"Oh, wow—" you'd laugh if you weren't this utterly mortified by the entire situation. "You guys are—gods. You’re going after a whole new high score in the prick olympics, aren't you—"

"Oh, I don't know if you believe that, topolina...I think you're just being shy." Theo cuts through your rambling and you flinch at the sound of his voice. "It's clear this is a fantasy of yours."

Your head tilts up, eyes widening as they meet the empty, hollow eyes of the mask drawing closer.

"I bet you're just embarrassed," Theo's pressing—he's fucking pressing and you don’t think you’ve breathed since he walked in. "Embarrassed that you got on your knees for your best friend...or maybe you're afraid I'd be mad." He pauses, and his gaze sweeps down over you. "Which, to that I'd have to say, I'm far from."

You swallow hard, your mouth dry. "You're...you're not mad?"

Perhaps you were afraid of that—even if you and Theo are unofficial in every aspect.

His answer is instant. "No."

He crouches in front of you, gloved fingers finding your chin, tipping your head up so he can look at you— really look at you.

"In fact...I think you should let him watch..." his thumb ghosts over your lower lip, so soft, so slow—without thinking, your tongue flicks out, barely grazing the leather covered tip, and you hear the soft exhale he releases in response. "After all, this was his idea. He deserves some fun too, don't you think?"

Heat floods your cunt, your stomach tightening at the suggestion. You glance at Enzo, sitting back now with his mask on—legs spread wide, leather hands clasped, calm—you wanted to kill him five minutes ago, but now—

Oh gods—you're really losing it.

"Yeah," you whisper, barely managing the word. "He probably does."

Theo's hand slides down to your thigh, leather fingers curling into the soft skin, pulling your legs open further.

"Mhm." He mutters. "You like being watched, don't you?"

Your breath catches, your pulse thundering in your ears as you nod, your eyes glued to Enzo. "Yes..."

"Say it." His fingers trail higher, teasing the soft skin beneath your dress, fingertips grazing closer—too close—just below the lace hem of your panties.

Salazar save you.

You bite your lip, and the air between you feels like it's thickening, growing too dense to breathe in. That fucking mask. You've fantasized over it. And now, there's two of them. Two sets of eyes—faceless, emotionless, and watching you. It's like something out of your fucking dreams.

"I—I like being watched," you manage to whisper, voice breaking between building lust.

"Louder," Theo growls this time like he's pulling it from somewhere deep in his chest—it sends liquid heat spilling through you. "Louder, topolina. He can't hear you if you're whispering."

Your heart stutters in your chest, and Enzo—gods, Enzo is still watching—stays silent, the mask concealing whatever reaction he might have, but his posture speaks volumes. Stillness, dark fabric of his trousers tight across his thighs, a coiled tension that radiates off him, permeates the space between you.

"I—fuck—" a breathless moan cracks through your words as Theo's leather-clad fingers slip under your panties, grazing your slick slit. "—love it. I love being watched."

Theo hums, the sound vibrating low in his throat, and rewards you by pushing two fingers into your dripping heat. So slow, the pace of his strokes torturous—slick sounds of leather working you open filling the room, mingling with your quiet, shuddering breaths. His thumb brushes your clit, teasing over it until you moan—hard and shameless—

"So loud," Theo mocks, your spine arching into him as his fingers curl inside you. "Eager, filthy little thing. You love being on display, don't you?"

A whimper catches in your throat, your gaze still locked on Enzo, watching him watch you.

You're shaking. You're close. Too close.

Your voice cracks again, nothing more than a whisper caught in a moan. "Theo...fuck—"

"You're so wet, bellissima," Theo breathes behind the mask. You're burning, every nerve sizzling. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You can't speak. Words don't exist anymore, only the pressure—only the way Theo's fingers curl inside you, the way your thighs tremble and ache from holding yourself open, from being watched, from being this goddamn humiliated.

"Y-yes," you choke out, desperate. "Yes, please, I—"

"Ask him." Theo's cuts you off. "Ask Enzo to let you cum."

The room spins. The air thickens into something cloying.

Ask him. Ask Enzo—

You swallow hard, your eyes darting between the two masks. Enzo is silent, still motionless, but he tilts his head slightly, the only indication that he's heard. That he's waiting.

"Please, Enzo—" the humiliation is sickening but you force past it. It’s a broken prayer, vulnerability in verbal form. "Please...let me cum—please—"

Time stretches. It feels like hours, an eternity where nothing exists but the weight of their hidden eyes on you, the way Enzo's fingers twitch, curl over the thick ridge at his crotch, leather knuckles tensing as if he's restraining himself from something primal. You're being devoured whole by this moment—by the unbearable tension, by Theo's fingers inside you, relentless in their assault, and gods—you're going to die if they don't let you—

"Yeah," Enzo finally murmurs, breaking the silence. Theo's gaze flickers to him, waiting. "Yeah, you can cum, angel…”

But as he says it, he shakes his head, and Theo—the absolute bastard—pulls his fingers out without a word.

"…just not yet." Enzo finishes.

The sound that leaves your throat isn't even human, some guttural, helpless whine torn straight from your throbbing, empty cunt. Theo shushes you.

"You'll get to cum, Bella," he coos, standing up slowly. "It'll be soon."

They're toying with you, playing you like a goddamn puppet on strings and it's infuriating in its deliciousness. You've known these men for years, yet it's almost laughable—the way they feel so foreign, so terrifyingly new.

"Oh, Enzo," you sigh, feeling your arousal cool, your body suddenly aware of the icy stone beneath you, of the wet heat slicking down your thighs. "I'm going to kill you tomorrow."

Enzo snorts. "You're welcome to try."

Theo exhales a half-chuckle, helping you off the floor and onto a desk, his hands firm on your thighs as he spreads you open like he's done a hundred times within the last few months.

A moment passes before he moves to loosen his belt and you realize just how close Enzo is now—his chair right beside the desk, his hand palming the bulge in his pants, shameless in his observation. The sight makes you fucking dizzy with filth. Surely, you've lost your mind. This is madness. Every line between friendship and lust—between restraint and indulgence—has blurred and bled into something you can't define, and the thrill of it is intoxicating.

"This is insane," you hiss, breathless, feeling the way Theo's gloves scrape over your skin, two thick digits dragging in your slick. "You're both fucking insane."

"Too much talking," Theo mutters, so infuriatingly calm, even as he drags the head of his dick over your folds, teasing your clit. "So much attitude for someone dripping down their thighs. You want to stop?" The silence stretches, your eyes locked on his, and you can feel the smirk behind the mask. He nods. "That's what I thought. Now shut up and let me fuck this wet cunt."

His hands grip either side of the desk, his body looming over you—the scene from your fantasy you've envisioned a million times. Ghostface—dominant and rough—gods, you want it. So bad it fucking hurts.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes immediately finding Enzo's again—forgetting for half a second that he was even there. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his hand moving rhythmically beneath the denim, mask locked onto you with a single-minded focus that makes your breath stutter.

"Enz-ohhh—" you go to say something to him, but then Theo pushes into you—no warning, no slow build—just a deep, unforgiving thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs, and your voice cracks on his name, the syllables lost in the moan that spills out of you.

"Shit." Enzo groans in response. "Did you just—"

"She did," Theo snarls, his grip on your hips punishing as he slams into you again, harder this time. "The little slut just moaned your name."

There's cursing, from both of them, but it's all a blur in your ears, drowned out by the sound of Theo's hips slamming into yours, the fevered slap of skin on skin, the obscene sounds you can't help but make—

"Yeah, I noticed," Enzo mutters, and fuck, he sounds ruined, completely lost in the sight of you—his best friend, getting fucked by his other best friend. "Fuck."

Theo's hand finds your jaw, forcing your head back to face him, Ghostface mask looming above you like a delicious nightmare.

"Who's fucking you?" His voice is caught somewhere between a snarl and a purr. "Is it Enzo?"

"N-no—" you manage, trembling with every thrust.

"Of course it's not," Theo hisses, driving into you with punctual thrusts to make you feel him, making you cry out when he slams your cervix. "So why'd you moan his name? When it's—fuck—my cock inside you?"

"I—I didn't mean—" you whimper, eyes squeezed shut, but there's no escape. Not from the relentless pace of Theo's dick, not from the way Enzo's eyes never leave you, burning into you like fire. You can't form words.

"Mm—don't be shy now, topolina," Theo purrs, his voice thick with effort. His hips snap forward, and your back arches, a broken sound escaping you. "I think you just love having him in your mouth—his name, his—"

"Fuck, Nott, shut up," Enzo cuts in, his head thrown back, chest tense. "I don't want to hear your voice—"

You can hear the strain, the way he's barely holding it together—

"Look at him," Theo ignores Enzo's words. He lets go of your jaw. "He wants you. He's always wanted you."

Your eyes dart between them, head spinning, unable to form a coherent thought—Theo's fucking relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—and every time you glance at Enzo, you see the way he's breaking, hand moving faster, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths—

"I never knew you were such a voyeur, Nott," Enzo spits, trying to sound casual. "Never took you for being such a filthy bastard."

"What can I say?" Theo groans in response, propping your legs up over his shoulders to drive into you deeper. "Just discovered a new interest, you should try it sometime."

They're still bantering, like this is some kind of fucked-up competition, like you're not about to shatter into a million fucking pieces while your best friend watches—after he got you here and humiliated you with a fucking bet—gods, you'd laugh if you weren't so utterly lost to the pleasure ripping through you.

"And watch you get off on it?" Enzo spits back, voice rough. "I'll—"

Theo snorts, cutting him off. "I think there's more than one person getting off on—"

"Shut the-fffuck up—please-" you manage to moan, the words barely intelligible. You look to Enzo, eyes wide and pleading. "Enz...come here."

"Yeah...?" Enzo breathes out, his voice catching, tipping his head back forward to look at you. “What?”

"Come here," you moan again, trembling, fraying under the pleasure that's building inside you from Theo’s insistent dick. "Let me help you."

For a moment, he hesitates, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking because the goddamn mask hides everything. He's always been the calm one between you—always stopping your drunk kisses, always refraining from taking things too far. But tonight, there’s no more of that calm left in him—

He stands.

Each step he takes feels like a lifetime, but when he's standing next to your head on the desk, towering above where you're laid out like a feast, you don't know whether it's the mask or the situation itself that has your pulse racing. Erotic and terrifying, the not-knowing—a power exchange in its purest form. Theo growls infront of you, his thrusts growing harder, more vicious, as you reach out to pull Enzo's hips closer.

You're already eyeing the throbbing bulge in his jeans, your mouth practically watering as you stare.

"Go on," you rasp, lips parting as you look up through your lashes. "Take it out."

The breath Enzo sucks in is sharp, a hitch in the darkness. His fingers tremble, just barely, as he pushes his pants down his thighs, and the noise that escapes him when his cock slips out and smacks his stomach—low, strangled—makes you moan and clench in response—he's huge.

Your breath catches, a soft exhale of, "oh, fuck."

And the words are barely out of your mouth before both Theo and Enzo respond—low growls and breathless groans that echo in the shadowed room, vibrating through you like electricity.

"Open your pretty mouth," Enzo whispers and you obey without hesitation, tongue slipping out, wanting, eager. His breath shudders, and you wish you could see his eyes. "Good girl."

And then he's pushing into you, sliding hot and thick over your tongue, and at that exact moment, Theo thrusts harder, deeper, and suddenly you're overwhelmed—both of them inside you, filling you, consuming every breath. Moans ripple through the dungeon air, a chorus of sin, and you shake with the sheer intensity of it all.

Theo's thumb finds your clit, starts swirling over it, and you keen—eyes rolling back in your head, Enzo’s leather hands in your hair to hold you still. Tears stream down your face as you gag, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but neither of them stop—if anything, they're both lost in it, in the wrecked, messy beauty of it all. Your hands claw at the desk, desperate for something to hold on to as the pleasure builds, tightens, spirals out of control.

Time collapses. It's been moments—it's been hours.

And then it happens—all three of you tipping over the edge at once, crashing into a release so fierce it shatters you. Your climax rips through you, violent, leaving you shaking, milking Theo until he's spent—until he's pouring his cum deep inside your cunt at the same time Enzo groans deep and spills his own over your tongue. A moment passes, and then Theo is the first to pull away, panting, tearing off his mask and dropping into the chair beside the desk, and Enzo follows, tugging his jeans back up before slumping into another chair, mask still on—

Both of them are sprawled there, utterly spent, just as wrecked as you.

And then, after a few long, tense moments, you hear it—the clink of Galleons exchanged. You don't even need to look up for it to register. Theo tosses the coins into Enzo’s greedy palm because he was the true fucking winner here. The sound cuts through the stillness, and with it, that smug, unmistakable sneer in Enzo's voice.

"Told you she'd love it."

Asshole.

You roll your eyes. Your limbs feel like they're moving through molasses as you stand, your hands mechanically fixing your costume, adjusting the fabric against your thighs.

"You know, Enzo, if you wanted to watch Theo fuck me that bad, all you had to do was ask."

"What can I say," he shrugs, lazy, like he's discussing the weather. "I enjoy a bit of gambling."

Theo snorts, adjusting his collar, as if none of this fazes him. His eyes flick from you to Enzo. "Next time you'll be paying me."

"Next time?" You cock an eyebrow. "How generous of you."

"There will be a next time," Enzo says, flipping one of the Galleons between his fingers, that same smirk playing on his lips. "And I'll get my turn."

Your pulse quickens at the sheer arrogance of it, the way he says it like it's not even up for debate. You hate how much you like this side of him.

"Maybe next time you should."

They nod, both of them wearing their smirks like crowns. "Until next time, then."

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luna-azzurra · 7 months ago

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Dialogue Strengthening Methods

Dialogue serves as the lifeblood of any narrative, offering readers a window into the minds, hearts, and souls of characters. When executed effectively, dialogue not only propels the plot forward but also deepens character development and fosters emotional engagement.

Authenticity through Observation

Authentic dialogue begins with keen observation of the world around us. As writers, we are avid listeners and astute observers, capturing the cadences, quirks, and real-life conversations. For example, in a bustling market scene, the rhythm of vendors haggling over prices or the melodic lilt of a street musician's banter adds depth and authenticity to the setting.

Character Voice

Just as no two individuals are alike, each character in a story possesses a unique voice that reflects their personality, background, and worldview. Crafting distinct voices involves delving deep into the psyche of each character, understanding their motivations, fears, and desires. Consider the contrast between a grizzled detective who speaks in terse, cynical phrases and a wide-eyed rookie whose speech is punctuated by eager enthusiasm. By infusing dialogue with these individual nuances, characters come alive, resonating with authenticity and depth.

Subtext

Beyond the surface level of spoken words lies a rich tapestry of subtext—unspoken thoughts, hidden agendas, and underlying emotions. Mastery of subtext allows writers to imbue dialogue with layers of meaning, inviting readers to decipher the unspoken truths that lie beneath. For instance, in a scene where a character offers a half-hearted apology, the tension between their words and body language hints at unresolved resentment or guilt. By harnessing the power of subtext, dialogue transcends mere communication, becoming a vehicle for nuanced storytelling and character development.

Showcasing Emotions

At its core, dialogue is a reflection of human emotion—joy, sorrow, anger, love. Capturing the emotional essence of a scene requires a delicate balance of words, tone, and context. Instead of explicitly stating characters' emotions, skilled writers show them through subtle cues—hesitant pauses, clenched fists, tearful eyes. Consider a scene where a parent confronts their child about a secret they've discovered; the trembling in their voice and the quiver of their lip betray a mixture of concern, disappointment, and love. By allowing emotions to permeate dialogue exchanges, writers forge a visceral connection with readers, eliciting empathy, laughter, and tears in equal measure.

Conflict and Tension

Dialogue thrives on conflict and tension, driving the narrative forward with relentless momentum. Whether it's a heated argument between lovers or a tense negotiation between rivals, conflict infuses dialogue with urgency and dynamism. Consider a scene where two political adversaries engage in a war of words, each vying for dominance and advantage. By pitting characters against each other, whether in overt clashes or subtle power struggles, writers create opportunities for growth and revelation.

#writing #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #character development #oc character #writing help #creative writing #writing block #writing advice

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reiding-writing · 11 months ago

Note

since you are a person of angst, i was thinking about spencer x reader where in the heat of an argument, spencer says he will only forgive her when she dies.

so in one of the cases the reader is shot by spencer and sighs "now you can finally forgive me"

happy or sad ending, whatever you want

muah 💘

forgiven — s.reid

Summary:

You lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. After weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR IAN DOYLE ARC, harsh arguments, death wishes, gun mentions, major character injury, details of gun related injury, happy ending

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 3.7k || masterlist!!

a/n: left the ending up to majority vote and majority vote said happy ending, you guys are so boring /j

happy ending or not this is still nice and jam packed with angst for all my angst enjoyers <3

Emily Prentiss had been buried for seven months.

So how on earth was she stood five feet away from Spencer with a half guilty expression on her face like she’d put salt in his coffee rather than the fact that she’d been in Paris, fully alive and well whilst he mourned her ‘death’ for months.

But he couldn’t be mad at her. Of course he couldn’t.

Instead his gaze turned towards the way Hotch, JJ, and you were stood at the head of the table, completely unfazed whilst the rest of the team stood in shock at the fact that the friend that they’d buried was still alive.

He couldn’t help that small feeling of loathing mixing with the shock when Emily pulled him into a hug, his arms loosely rested around her back as his eyes narrowed slightly in your direction.

He’d let you see him at his absolute worst, an emotional, crying, pathetic mess of a person who was desperately mourning over the loss of one of his closest friends.

And you’d let him. Whilst knowing that Emily was still alive.

His emotional state had gotten so bad over the last few months that you’d even temporarily moved him in with you to make sure he wasn’t endangering himself.

He’d spiralled into a state where he couldn’t be trusted to live on his own. And you’d let him.

He didn’t speak to you during your drive home that night, and you knew why.

You knew he was going to be angry at you, and you couldn’t blame him for it.

What you didn’t expect, was for him to immediately start unrooting himself from your apartment; Clearing out drawers and stuffing his clothes in the suitcase hidden in one of the cupboards.

“Spencer what are you doing-” You barely manage to step out of the way before Spencer walked right into you with an armful of books in his hands as he pulled them from the bookshelf in your living room.

He stacks them neatly in the corner of the open case laid on top of his bed as you stand in the doorway of your guest room turned Spencer’s bedroom, clear concern written all over your face.

“I’m going home.” Spencer’s reply is blunt, flat, with the tiniest amount of hurt lacing his tone if you were to listen closely enough.

“Spence-” You block his exit from the room with your body as he attempts to make a second trip to clear your shelves of his books. “Can we just take a second to talk about this?”

“About what? The fact that you lied to me for seven months?” He takes a step back from you as you block the doorway, looking you directly in the eyes to make sure that you could read every semblance of hurt, loathing, and betrayal that swam in his irises.

“The fact that I trusted you to the point where I let you see me at my lowest and you knew everything I was grieving over was a lie?” Spencer had given up trying to leave the room, clearing out anything left in the bedroom instead and zipping the suitcase shut.

“The fact that you let me spiral to the point where I was considering relapsing and couldn’t be trusted to live on my own?”

“Spencer-”

“I confided in you. I told you everything. All those nights I spent sobbing in your arms talking about how I just wanted the pain to stop and you left me in the dark.” He was borderline shouting at you by now, his eyes glassed over with tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks and a lump in his throat that rended his composure shattered.

“I wish I could’ve told you Spencer but I couldn’t-”

“You couldn’t?” Spencer cuts you off before you have the time to try and explain yourself. “Or you wouldn’t?”

“I couldn’t- Spence I wanted to tell you I really did but Emily’s life was in danger-” You try to explain yourself whilst he’s giving you the time to do so, words falling out of your mouth as fast as your brain will let them form. “I couldn’t say anything without risking breaking her cover and sending her right back into Doyle’s grasp..”

“What about my life?” Spencer’s voice cracked slightly as he looked at you, a light flush covering his face from his frustration. “I spent ten weeks under 24/7 supervision because my mental state was so bad-”

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t have said anything. And you let me ruin my own mental state anyway.” The end of his negation of your explanation is marked by the suitcases wheels hitting the wooden flooring.

“Look i’m sorry okay? I didn’t-”

“What? didn’t mean to let it go so far? Didn’t mean to let me consider relapsing and washing any progress i’d made over the last four years down the drain?” He pushes past you with considerable force to make his way towards the front door of your apartment with his suitcase in hand. “Well it’s too late for that isn’t it?”

“Spencer wait-” You grasp at his wrist in a moment of desperation, silently begging for him not to leave. “I’m sorry,”

“I’m so, so sorry and you have every right to be angry at me and I know that keeping it from you was wrong-” Your desperation shows through your voice, through the stray tear that rolls down your left cheek and pools under your chin. “Just- let’s talk about this, please,”

“We just did.” Spencer’s voice is much harsher than you’re used to, although he removes your hand from his wrist with a whisper of his usual gentle nature that you wish would take over the rest of his personality as he pulls your door open to leave.

“I was just trying to protect her-” Your voice hitches at the end of your sentence, stray tears turning into a steady flow that dapples your white shirt in damp circles. “..please forgive me…”

Your voice is hardly a whisper by the time you’re finished, although Spencer’s expression does not match the softness in your tone.

Nor does his response.

“I’ll forgive you when you’re six feet under like she was.”

“Spencer-”

You barely have time to be shocked by his words before the front door of your apartment is closed harshly in your face, Spencer’s presence replaced by the ghost of his cologne and a sharp coldness that runs its way up your spine.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’d been three weeks.

And aside from asking Morgan to keep an eye on him you hadn’t so much as mentioned Spencer once.

It was a little difficult considering his desk was directly opposite yours, but a mix of wanting to respect his personal space and still being hurt by his comment allows you to keep to yourself no matter how close he was.

You’re thankful that the team hasn’t said anything, but you’re sure they’ll only respect your privacy until it interferes with the case you’re working on.

Emily had tried to talk Spencer down from his underlying anger to no avail during the plane ride, and despite the countless times that Hotch had taken full responsibility for keeping Emily’s living status a secret, it didn’t stop Spencer from sending you half-glares across the station or refuting any suggestion you gave with an overcomplicated explanation of why you were wrong.

By the fourth day you were on the verge of snapping at him, the Texas heat melding with his snark and making you want to tear all of your skin from your face.

You definitely weren’t in the right mental state to enter an active shooter situation, but as you followed Morgan into the building with your 9mm planted firmly between your hands, all you could think about is the conversation you were going to force Spencer into having with you once all of this was over.

You were so tired of being in this stalemate with him, you just wanted your Spencer back.

The one who would trap you on your couch so he could explain the Doctor Who lore in explicit detail with that bright starry look in his eyes the longer you let him ramble.

It was just radio silence. And you couldn’t bare it anymore.

Your mind was clouded by your own thoughts as you swept the building, and you suppose you only have yourself to blame for not hearing the unfamiliar footsteps behind you until it’s too late.

You turn on your heels towards the noise, expecting it to be Morgan or even Spencer, finished with sweeping the floor and ready to move on.

Instead you’re met by a sharp bang that rings through your ears and a pain in your throat that makes your breath catch and your legs fail underneath you.

Your left hand comes straight to your throat, immediately coated in the dark red liquid escaping from the new hole created in your body, and you manage to fire a shot in the direction of your assailant as he runs, although whether you actually hit him or not you’re not sure.

It takes less than ten seconds for your team members to arrive at your side, and you desperately point in the direction that the UnSub had ran off in as you try and refrain from coughing up blood and in turn flooding your lungs.

Morgan and Emily share a look before running off in your pointed direction. Spencer however, ignores your arm completely and rushes to kneel at your side, dropping his gun on the floor in the process and frantically holding the radio button on his watch to yell out his need for medical services.

“You’re going to be fine- Everything’s going to be fine-” You can practically feel the panic emanating from his body, his hands trembling as he tugged his bullet proof vest from his chest to tear at the hem of his shirt and use it to block the bullet hole in your throat as your hand compression weakened with your blood loss.

You can tell he was trying to reassure you, but it didn’t sound all that convincing, even to himself.

His right hand added a copious amount of pressure to the front of your throat as he aided you into the recovery position, checking the nape of your neck for an exit wound. Nothing.

A soft “two minutes” echoes back through the radio speaker in his watch and though he tries to mutter it under his breath to not freak you out any further, you can hear his uncertain “that’s too long,” even through the tinnitus plaguing your ears.

You cough up the clotted chunks of oxidised blood stuck in your oesophagus onto the floor beneath you, and Spencer makes an effort to protect your head from the floor by elevating it on his thigh.

“You’re going to be fine-” Spencer sounds more panicked than you as his eyes blink with tears, unable to be wiped as they fall down his cheeks from the red staining against his fingers and the ever present pressure he’s adding to your injury.

“Does this mean you’re going to forgive me now?” You choke out the words alongside what could barely be considered a laugh as it leaves you hacking up more blood through your mouth, your attempt at lightening the mood falling on deaf ears as it sends Spencer into a fit of tears.

“I’m so sorry-” Spencer’s tears run hot against his cheeks, pooling at his chin and falling onto the ripped fabric of his shirt he was using to try and stop your throat from bleeding. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you and barging out and just being awful to you I��m sorry-”

The distinct sounds of sirens sound over Spencer’s profuse apology and you can see the relief flood his face as he hears them. “You hear that? You’re gonna be okay, they’re gonna get you to a hospital and you’re gonna be fine,”

He nodded determinedly at you, more like he’s trying to convince himself than convince you.

He neglected to tell you about the fact that gunshot wounds to the neck held a 78% mortality rate, or how when they obstruct major airways that number jumps to 92%.

It was fine. You would be fine.

He can hear the pounding footsteps of the medical team as they breach the building, yelling out in their direction with as much composure as he can muster.

He helped the medical team carefully position you on a stretcher so they could rush you into the ambulance, and he runs alongside you, giving the EMTs as much information as he can.

“They were shot by a 7.5mm two minutes and forty seconds ago, it breached their trachea but there’s no exit wound so it’s likely lodged in the back of their oesophagus-” Spencer speaks through heaved breaths as his body fights to take in oxygen over his will to help the EMTs treat you as quickly as possible, following them into the back of the ambulance.

“They’ve been conscious the whole time this far but I think they’re going through pulmonary edema and-”

“Spence-” Your voice is barely audible through your struggle to breathe, joined by the pressure on your throat as well as under your diaphragm as one of the EMTs checks for signs of your lungs being flooded. “Don’t backseat doctor-”

The fact that you’re still conscious enough to lightly chastise him makes Spencer feel a little less panicked, although removing a pebble from a mountain doesn’t affect its height.

By the time you reach the hospital, you’re unconscious but not yet critical, and he almost follows you right into the OR until he’s blocked from the door by one of the nurses and escorted into the waiting area.

“Well let you know the second anything changes Dr Reid,”

He nods hastily as he sits down, fiddling with his fingers and tapping his feet against the linoleum floors.

You weren’t critical yet, but that didn’t mean that you’d pull through. You had flooded lungs and a bullet lodged somewhere in the back of your throat that they were going to surgically remove.

If something went wrong, that was it.

Spencer spends the first thirty minutes mentally beating himself up.

Why did he lash out at you? You were only doing what you thought was best to protect Emily.

Why did he say he’d only forgive you if you died? You didn’t mean to cause him any harm.

Why was he constantly managing to ruin anything positive that was happening between the two of you?

Maybe he was cursed.

Cursed to live a life of eternal suffering as the perpetual cost for the gift of his intelligence.

He would give up every IQ point he had if it meant that you would recover with no complications.

He would sacrifice his eidetic memory in an instant if it meant he got to make new ones with you.

He’d give up everything that he was prided on as long as you were okay. You needed to be okay.

The next forty-five minutes was spent in an anxious silence. The team had rushed to the hospital as soon as they’d secured the UnSub’s incarceration, only amplifying the tension in the waiting area.

As the nurse calls out your name to the room, the team immediately stands to rush over, everyone silently praying that you’re okay.

“We’re glad to say that the surgery was a success,”

Those words are enough for the anxiety to dwindle in the group, a wave of relief overtaking it.

“They’ve had to have a temporary tracheotomy, and due to the placement of the bullet lodged between their vertebrae, a spinal excision, but both procedures progressed with no issues, meaning they should recover perfectly fine,”

Morgan and Emily share a audible sigh of relief, overshadowed by Spencer’s voice, less anxious but still filled with adrenaline. “Can I see them?”

“They’re currently under supervised care to make sure they don’t destabilise, but if you leave your mobile number we will contact you when they wake,” The nurse passes Spencer a small post it note and a biro pen from her clip board and he doesn’t hesitate to scribble his name and number down before handing them back.

“They’re strong, most patients don’t remain conscious for more than a minute or two after an injury like that,” The nurse takes the pen and post it from Spencer with a small smile. “I have full faith that they’ll recover perfectly fine,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer extends his stay in Texas indefinitely.

The rest of the team had left for Quantico two days ago to file out all of the necessary paperwork for the case, with Spencer opting to remain in Texas until you were fit to fly home with him.

Home. He wonders if you’ll let him come home with you. To stay with you in your apartment again and live side by side with him once more.

Maybe he can convince you through your recovery; That patients recovering with spinal injuries need 24/7 attention just in case something happens.

Yeah. That sounded like a good idea.

Spencer’s plans for taking you home were interrupted by the shrill ring of his cellphone, the screen lighting up with an unknown number.

His heart rate increases as he picks the phone up from his hotel room’s coffee table, his hands trembling by the time he holds it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“McAllen County Hospital, am I speaking to Doctor Spencer Reid?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer is in his rental car almost before he hangs up the phone, driving the speed limit as he tries to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

He runs what he’s going to say when he sees you over and over again in his head on the way there, but by the time he reaches your hospital room his mind goes completely blank, and he just stands in the door staring at you.

“Hello to you too,” Your voice is very clearly strained and raspy, still recovering from the emergency tracheotomy you’d been given during surgery.

The sound of your voice, as dry and strained as it is, immediately sends Spencer into a fit of tears, and he rushes to take a seat on the plastic chair beside your bed with the most upset, regretful expression you think you’ve ever seen. “I’m so sorry,”

“Spence…” You reach out your hand out from the hospital bed, laying it against his lower thigh and squeezing it lightly.

“I shouldn’t have lashed out at you I know you were doing what’s right and I didn’t mean what I said I don’t want you to die I promise-” He takes in a sharp breath through his nose once he’s finished his ramble, and you wait a few seconds to make sure he’s actually finished before speaking yourself.

“You’re fine Spence…” Your hand trails up to grasp at his own, intertwining your fingers with his and giving them a small squeeze. “You had every right to be angry,”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly at you. “No, i’m sorry. What I said was wrong and you didn’t deserve that,”

Spencer exhales softly through his nose, his voice wavering and his hands trembling against your own. “Can you forgive me..?”

You question whether to make a joke about whether he’s close to dying or not, but opt out of it considering his fragile emotional state.

“How about we both forgive each other and call it even?” You let out a small chuckle at the end of your question, turning into more of a cough as it dries out your throat, and Spencer grabs the glass of water left on your bedside table with his free hand.

He holds it up to let you drink from it rather than unlinking your hands to let you hold the cup yourself, placing the styrofoam back down once you’re finished.

You give him a mildly embarrassed smile that he returns with one of his own, leaning forward to gently rest his forehead against yours.

If you weren’t recovering from a spinal surgery he would’ve had you in a bone crushing hug by now, but holding your hand and leaning his forehead to yours would suffice for now.

“Forgiven?” You allow your eyes to flutter closed at the soft contact, exhaling slowly through your nose.

“Forgiven…”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

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wileys-russo · 4 months ago

Text

the not so secret II barça femeni

part of the pollito universe the not so secret II barça femeni

"alexia, me voy!" you called out from the front door, body already half outside as you heard the girl yell out for you to wait from the bedroom.

"go!" olga mouthed with an encouraging nod, making shooing motions with her hands as you grinned and blew her a kiss, closing the door and racing toward the elevator.

"hey! home by ten nena, don't do anything stupid!" you caught the last of alexia's sentence as her head popped out, eyes narrowing at you as you wiggled your fingers in a wave goodbye from the end of the hall, stepping into the elevator and out of sight.

"esa chica será mi muerte." alexia muttered, shaking her head and retreating inside, rolling her eyes at her girlfriends teasing she was going to get grey hairs if she didn't lighten up.

as far as your captain knew you were going to see your friends, having roped in a few of the younger girls to cover for you as you always needed when you lied to alexia.

a few well placed promises, edible bribes and now alexia was under the assumption you'd be spending the evening at cata's house with vicky, salma and lucía, your alibi air tight.

you didn't necessarily want to lie, but you knew for now that was far easier than telling alexia the truth and all the hoops you'd need to jump through once you did.

you respected the older girl very much, you'd known of her for many years before you'd been properly introduced. having held her and a lot of the senior girls you played alongside now on a pedestal, you wanted to be just like them when you were in the academy.

and now, here you were.

though you enjoyed causing mostly harmless trouble and chaos, hair dye in shampoo, maybe some honey in someones boots, missing belongings well hidden, or even a nail 'accidentally' lodged in someones tyre if they really got into your bad books.

deep down you didn't have a malicious bone in your body and alexia knew that, you were just young and admittedly quite easily convinced into things if they were alluring enough and seemed to hold a benefit for you.

which is why it hadn't taken too long for you to earn alexia's trust when you moved in with her once you solidified your spot in the senior time.

you still had a good relationship with your family but with the training schedule and transport to and from the grounds it just worked out easier for all parties if you moved in with a teammate.

your request to have your own place merely laughed at you'd huffed but internally were quite chuffed alexia was so open and willing to taking you in.

and as much chaos and trouble you found yourself in around your friends and teammates you'd never dare to do anything to mess up your living situation, and you were always finding ways to help around the house however you could.

this lie though was one you needed for not just your own protection, but someone elses.

you knew you were seen as the baby of the team but you were still a teenager with needs and emotions and far too many hormones running through you to ignore the fact you'd developed a crush.

you'd never been in a properly serious relationship, you'd hooked up with people at parties or when you were still attending school during your time at the academy, but you'd never felt like this before.

she worked at a cafe not too far from alexia's apartment, and you'd often rush there of a morning on the rare occurrence of a day off where you awoke before either alexia or olga to get coffees and pastries for the three of you.

it was normally after you'd perhaps taken a harmless joke or prank a step too far and been found out, but if alexia had caught onto that she never mentioned it, though you were fairly sure she knew and just pretended not to for the sake of a free breakfast.

at first the girl just caught your eye and you thought she was attractive, stumbling over your words a little when she took your order but missing the way she'd suddenly appear by the register every time you walked in, your regular order already punched in even if she was rostered on the floor that day.

one day you'd decided to actually sit down and eat properly, struggling a little with the new set pieces you'd gotten alexia's permission to bring them with you to study before the game on the weekend, and after some caffeine to help.

though all of that went out the window the moment the girl sat down across from you, announcing she was on her break and would you mind if she ate with you, and it was safe to say you didn't even glance at the set pieces that whole afternoon.

she was a month older than you and still in school, she worked weekends and afternoons at the cafe which was owned by her godmother and you quickly learned the pair of you had a lot more in common than you'd first thought.

your crush growing ten fold right after that impromptu lunch together you'd immediately confided in the rest of the kids on the team, with varying levels of helpful and horrible advice about what to do.

but with a lot of the girls already in relationships you took some of their less poor advice and after two failed attempts when you chickened out, the girl caught onto what you were trying to do and asked you out on a date.

that was two months ago and now you were sat next to your girlfriend in a cosy little restaurant on the outskirts of the city that jana had recommended, having taken her own girlfriend jill there after they stumbled across it by accident one day.

your girlfriend knew next to nothing about sports which was refreshing as most of your close connections were all based around football, and it was nice to actually talk about anything but football with someone.

the sneaking around wasn't the easiest but it wasn't as hard as you'd worried, especially with your friends always loyal and ready to create you a solid cover story. plus between both you and your girlfriends hectic schedules with work, school and football you didn't get to see one another every day.

which is why tonight was long overdue and the pair of you hadn't yet run out of things to talk about despite speaking on the phone nearly every night and texting all day long.

but what you'd failed to remember was that alexia and olga had plans of their own tonight, which you'd been informed of but distracted trying to think of what to wear to dinner you'd barely listened, humming your fake interest and caught up in your own thoughts.

which was about to bite you in the ass.

so caught up in listening to your girlfriend you'd missed two very familiar faces enter the restaurant and take a seat at a table on the other side of the room, thanking the young boy who handed them a menu each and left them to decide.

but when he'd then come over to your table to take your order, another set of eyes with a question about the house special had sought him out, and suddenly your secret little date night wasn't so secret anymore.

"what? whats wrong?" ingrid asked with a confused frown as her girlfriend suddenly grabbed her wrist, shaking it to gain her attention and furiously nodding her head across the room.

"what are you-" the norwegian glanced over her shoulder, following the spaniards eyeline and putting two and two together. "is that-" though her question was answered for her as the young boy finished taking your order and moved out of the way.

"pollito told alexia she was at cata's watching movies, when really she has snuck out on a date...furtivo furtivo." mapi tutted with a shake of her head, corner of her mouth tugging upwards into a sly smile ingrid recognized all too well.

"maría, you do not even know what is actually going on. you are jumping to conclusions! they could just be friends." ingrid tried to defend you, though another glance in your direction seeing your girlfriend drape her arm across the back of your shoulders and peck your lips a few times making you laugh shut that right down.

"oh? and i suppose they are just friends, the way that you and i are just friends hm amor?" mapi grinned victoriously as ingrid sighed.

"we could just call alexia and cancel, or say it was too busy here and we should go somewhere else." ingrid again tried to defend you, knowing as much as she was also protective that you did deserve a life of your own.

"too late for that mi amor, the clock has just run out for our dear pollito." mapi chuckled, nodding toward the door where sure enough alexia and olga had just arrived, directed toward the table by the hostess who they both gave a warm smile to and made their way over.

"you could at least warn her." "amor, if the nena wants to date like an adult, then she can handle this herself like an adult." the defender shrugged, waving to their friends as ingrid sighed but none the less plastered a smile on her face.

meanwhile you were none the wiser to the double date and the storm brewing across the room, far too wrapped up in your little love bubble as your sole focus was on your girlfriend.

you were discussing plans for your seventeenth birthday next week, the girl having met some of your friends but not yet your parents you were readying yourself to ask if she would come to dinner with them next week to cross that hurdle.

you weren't worried for their reactions by any means, they'd never had any problems with your sexuality but this would still be the first real partner you'd be bringing home, and that carried a responsibility you knew would affect your girlfriend as well as you.

you'd met her godmother a couple of weeks in, the woman with eyes like a hawk had noticed you hanging around more and caught on that maybe the two of you were a little more than friends.

but sworn to secrecy the woman had never betrayed that, and you thought that maybe if you introduced your girlfriend to your parents, she might introduce you to hers next and everything would feel a little less secret.

but it would seem that fate had other ideas for how your night was to go.

it had taken alexia a shockingly long amount of time to notice you, and mapi an awfully large amount of patience not to tell her right away.

though once the catalan eventually did notice, doing a double take as her neck whipped back around as she was sure her eyes were playing tricks on her, there wasn't anything anyone could say to have her stay in her seat.

"no ale, mi amor we should leave her-" olga couldn't even finish her sentence before alexia was up, shaking off her girlfriends hand which grabbed at the hem of her shirt in a failed attempt to tug her back down.

you'd just finished your entrees, laughing at a story your girlfriend was very animatedly telling about a customer getting publicly called out by his girlfriend for cheating today, with paper print outs of receipts and everything, when a shadow appeared.

you'd assumed it was the waiter coming to take your empty plates, just glancing up with a smile and looking back at your girlfriend who'd suddenly gone silent, unable to look away as your hair suddenly stood on end and slowly you looked back upward.

"hola, pequeña." there was a bite to her tone you recognized right away, having only heard it a handful of times but you knew you'd really stepped in it this time.

"hola capi." you managed out meakly, your girlfriends arm across the back of your shoulders suddenly feeling as heavy as a steel pipe as you shifted a little and felt her pull away, immediately scooting across to set some distance between you both.

"alexia i can explain-" you couldn't handle the thick tension of silence as her eyes bore down into you, the blonde shaking her head.

"sí? bien. you and your...friend, can join us for dinner and i will hear all about it." the girl smiled but it didn't reach her eyes, a glance around her causing you to wince spotting the other three across the room.

"look uh...miss putellas, i really don't want to get her into any-" your girlfriend started nervously. "alexia is fine." the older girl cut her off sharply, the girl beside you mouth opening and closing like a fish, both of your faces flushed bright red in embarrassment.

"ale can we talk in private? por favor." you stood suddenly, nervously playing with your fingers as the blonde looked you up and down for a moment before nodding curtly.

"volveré, lo siento." you apologized quietly to your girlfriend who nodded in understanding, alexia making her way toward the front of the restaurant as you hurried after her, the two of you stepping outside into the warm evening air.

"explain then nena, rápido." your captain demanded firmly, crossing her arms and staring you down as you shrunk beneath her harsh gaze.

"she is my girlfriend, i met her at that cafe near your apartment on the corner, her godmother runs it. i have been seeing her for a couple of months now." you admitted, fidgeting with the rings on your right hand and refusing to meet alexia's eyes.

"and cata? jana? vicky? los niñas have been covering for you, helping you to lie to me." the spanish captain asked as you nodded, knowing anything but the truth right now would only dig you into a deeper hole.

"do your parents know? have they met her?" alexia questioned next and you shook your head. "she is meeting them next week, for my birthday. we actually just talked about it, she'd agreed to come to dinner with them right before you..." you trailed off as alexia hummed.

"ale por favor i will do hill sprints, laps, clean the changing rooms, wash boots, extra training, anything you want but don't make us sit and eat with all of you like kids. i know you all look at me like the baby of the team but this is my first real relationship and i don't want to mess it up." you disclosed quietly, alexia sighing and uncrossing her arms.

"how did you both get here?" the blonde asked as you chanced a glance toward her, seeing her hardened features had softened just a little.

"her godmother drove us. but ale she was going to make sure i was home by nine even if curfew is ten, she has school tomorrow and i have training and-" you started to ramble, falling silent as she held up a hand.

"vale. you may both eat by yourselves but i will drive you home when we are done, and you can tell me more about her." the last few words were a lot more gentle and it had you looking up with a frown, confused by her sudden switch up.

"you are not mad?" you asked hesitantly as alexia cracked a small smile and shook her head.

"a little disappointed you did not feel like you could come to me pequeña but i understand why you did not, you have amigas for that and you confided in them. if they are happy to lie for you to help you, then she must be worth it." alexia nodded behind you and into the restaurant.

"she is, i really like her." you smiled as alexia opened her arms, allowing you to dart into them and exhale. "todavía siento haber mentido." you mumbled, alexia ruffling your hair and letting you go.

"lo sé nena, you can make it up to me with coffee tomorrow...and extra laps for you and your asociados." you sighed at that but nodded none the less, knowing you were not going to be popular tomorrow among your friends at training tomorrow.

"and you will invite your girlfriend over for dinner, friday night." you were stunned at that, alexia looking back at you unfazed. "but-" you couldn't even finish your sentence, the blonde cutting you off.

"i promised your parents i would look after you nena, and i will keep that promise. so you will ask her over for dinner and i will get to know her, make sure she is good enough for you before she meets your parents." the girl smiled as you sighed, knowing there wasn't a point in arguing as you simply nodded.

"ve con tu pollito, and i will be watching." alexia smirked as you rolled your eyes and shoved her playfully, ducking away as she grabbed for you, following after you inside with a chuckle.

"oh no." you mumbled seeing your girlfriend was indeed where you'd left her, but your seat had been filled and she was not alone.

"-but then i found her in the closet and i shaved her eyebrow! it is funny it actually took a long time to grow back and she had to draw it on and-" your eyes widened catching the last of mapi's story as you hurried to the table.

"oye pollito! i was just speaking to your friend about you." mapi grinned, ingrid mouthing an apology and tugging on her girlfriends shirt with a firm look which the spaniard waved off.

"mapi. por favor, váyase." you requested through gritted teeth, ingrid mumbling something to her girlfriend who stood. "

qué? i am just being friendly nena! looking out for our pequeña bebé." the defender pinched your cheeks and cooed, ingrid wincing as your girlfriend hid a laugh behind her hand.

"maría, you can tease her tomorrow. leave the nena to her dinner!" ingrid warned as you caught her eye, all but dragging the smirking spaniard back to their table where olga and alexia were waiting. "hey mapi?" you called out as she raised an eyebrow, pausing for a moment.

"you are back on my list, imbécil."

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #pollito

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buckyshoneybunny · 1 month ago

Text

Spooky Secrets & Sweet Treats

College!Quarterback!Bucky Barnes + Curvy!College!Reader

Summary- You and the gang decorate for Halloween and host a Halloween party. During which a heated argument starts up between you and Bucky, revealing some hidden truths. Will these new truths lead to a new relationship and a fresh start between you two, or will it become worse than before?

W.C.- 3653

Warnings- Smut, unprotected sex, poorly written smut

A/N- Hi! I really hope you guys like this, I honestly don’t know how to feel about this, like I love it but I also hate it lol. The picture above is roughly what the living room looks like, I designed it myself on a designing website. The other pictures aren’t mine. This will be part one of a series. Part two will be for Thanksgiving and part 3 Christmas, and so on. Not proof read. The back story I used is my own sooo yeah. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Oh and happy Halloween!!

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Having not eaten all day, your stomach rumbled in protest. You sat in the middle row of the lecture hall, Nat on one side, Yelena on the other. This was the last class of the day, your ADHD medicine wearing off causing you to be even more impatient. Your right leg bounced mindlessly under the table; Natasha placed her hand on your knee with a warning glance. You stop and mumble out an apology.

You couldn’t help it honestly, today was Halloween, not your favorite holiday but still. You were sizzling with excitement. You, Natasha and Yelena (your roommate's), Nat’s boyfriend Steve and his two friends Sam and Bucky, were coming over after class. The guys would be making the food while you girls set out the decorations and got everything ready. That’s right, you were having a Halloween party!

You were never one for parties, not that you didn’t like them you just weren’t ever invited in high school. No one wanted the shy girl at their party. But since meeting Nat and Lena you’ve grown more confident, you were still shy, that was just who you are, but you’re a little more outgoing than you once were.

There was just one tiny problem, Bucky. You loathed that man, and according to him the feeling was mutual. Every little thing he did annoyed you, he made sure he went out of his way just to piss you off. With his stupid, cocky smirk, sparkling white teeth, gorgeous shoulder length, chocolate brown locks that he let grow out since meeting you. Even those shirts that seem three sizes too small, showing off his delicious abs that you just wanted to li-

Stop that!

You mentally climbed out of that rabbit hole, not wanting to go too deep. No matter how much you wanted to get a taste of the star quarterback, you hated each other and that was all it was ever going to be.

After what you’re sure is another 20 minutes, the professor finally dismisses everyone. You quickly gather your things and dart out the lecture hall, Natasha and Yelena hot on your heels.

Shivering as you stepped outside, you wrapped your jacket tighter around you, the cool autumn breeze blew about. Fall colored leaves littered the sidewalk, crunching under your feet.

You smiled. You loved fall and winter, everything just seemed happier. Holidays back-to-back, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. You loved Christmas. The sparkle of Christmas lights, curling up on the couch wrapped in a blanket watching Christmas movies, you just loved it.

The party started at nine, so you had roughly five and a half hours to get the supplies, set everything up, and get ready yourselves.

“You excited?” Nat asks, drawing you away from your thoughts. You three walking to your house on the far end of the campus. It was a two story, three bedrooms, two bath house. Nat and Lena’s parents were rich, having some sort of high-end job in the government.

“Duh,” you laugh.

“Even though he’s going to be there?” Yelena pipes up. You sigh.

“I’m determined to not let him get to me; I am going to have a good time tonight.”

“You say that every time,” Nat snickers.

“Yeah well, I mean it this time, he’s not ruining this party for me,” you defend.

“You say that too,” Yelena giggles.

“Say what?” The annoying voice you know too well asks before you can say anything. Turning around you find Bucky, Steve, and Sam following you guys. Steve wraps an arm around Nat, kissing her forehead. Sam ruffles Yelena’s hair.

Clad in his signature black leather jacket, the six-foot something wall of muscle wore blue jeans, red henley under the jacket, and his combat boots. This isn’t fair, why does he have to look so hot? His hair pulled into a small bun at the base of his neck.

“Nothing James,” you roll your eyes. You could see the tick in his jaw, he hated being called by his first name.

“Come on, princess,” he spits bitterly. “Keeping secrets from me now?” You just huff and keep walking in the direction of your house.

Princess. That name made your blood boil, you despised it, and he knew it too. It wasn’t the name that bothered you really, just the way he said it, like you were some spoiled brat. You most definitely weren’t. You didn’t even know why he called you that, but that was the name he’d given you the night you first met.

You weaved your way through the mass of people, trying to reach the kitchen. Natasha had dragged you to this party, claiming it was way past due to meet the gang. Yelena wasn’t any help, going right along with Nat’s plans. When one sister had her mind set to something, the other backed her up and to say they were a force to be reconned with was an understatement.

Before you could reach the kitchen, you smacked right into a wall, or what you thought was a wall until two strong, veiny hands shot out to steady you before you could fall. Looking up you see a pair of steel blue eyes boring into yours. The man had a sharp, clean shaved jaw, his brown hair short and fluffy, and stuck up in all different directions. His full, pink lips moved, saying something you didn’t quite catch. You realized you had been staring for too long.

“What?” You ask loud enough over the music.

He chuckles. “I said, are you alright, ...?”

“Oh! I’m Y/N, and yes, I’m fine. Thanks for catching me,” you smile. “And you are?”

His smile falls. “Bucky,” he says gruffly. “Watch where you’re going next time, princess,” he spits out bitterly before expertly weaving through the crowd.

You stood there confused for a moment, wondering what the hell happened. Natasha told you to give him some time and he’d warm up to you. To everyone’s surprise, he never did.

Your shoulders relaxed as you breathed a contented sigh as you stepped inside your shared home. A fireplace with shelves lined on either side. When you moved in Nat and Yelena let you decorate, you had taken interior design in high school so you knew how to make certain things work. A light grey couch sat in the center, with a coffee table in front of it, and a TV mounted on the wall above the fireplace.

Nat let you take the lead, directing everyone. She knew how your OCD and ADHD could get, especially when it comes to planning things like this, everything had to be a certain way. Bucky rolled his eyes and mumbled some smart remark under his breath. Once everyone was assigned a job you all got to work.

Steve and Sam went to the store, Bucky started to chop firewood to help keep the house warm-you liked using that rather than the heater, made it cozier, plus it saved money. Nat and Yelena worked on getting the Halloween decorates out of the shed. You did a quick clean, making room for the foldable tables Steve and Sam were getting. You scolded Bucky when he tracked mud through the house, to which he flipped you off.

Once the boys got back and the decorations were all set up and tables put up, everyone got ready. Natasha and Steve dressed up as superheroes, Sam as a Falcon, ever the nerd he is. Yelena dressed up as a vampire, Bucky was, well you didn’t know what he was. All you knew was he’s half naked and making your panties sticky.

And last but not least, you dressed up as a bunny, well sort of. You wore a soft pink��short cotton skirt with a bunny tail, a matching cotton crop, and bunny ears. Steve painted on a bunny nose. You were very unsure of the outfit at first, but Nat and Yelena, both assured you that your curves look delicious in that outfit.

Once everyone was dressed Steve and Sam fired up the grill to start cooking, Nat and Yelena setting out the condiments and other various food items. Bucky got the fire going, having paused to help Steve and Sam set the tables up when they got back. You added a few finishing touches to the decorations, moving a few things, stuff like that. You idly wondered why Bucky was so quiet, usually he’d have you clawing your eyes out by now.

But Bucky was in his own little world. He leaned back on his haunches once the fire was set. He glanced over at you, taking in your outfit. His tight ripped jeans did nothing to hide the effect it had on him. He'd seen you glance at his bare chest multiple times by now, he didn’t have a costume in mind. He just threw on some old, tight, ripped black jeans, if anyone asked what he was he’d think of something.

He watched as you moved a few decorations, a pout on your soft pink lips. Your brows were furrowed in a frown, he wanted to reach out and smooth it with his thumb. He shook his head to try and clear those thoughts, looking away before you could catch him.

Yes, he hated you, but that didn’t mean that your curves didn’t make his cock throb and his head fuzzy. The way you looked in those heels, how they made you sexy legs look long and soft. But you were this self-entitled princess who always had to have her way, it pissed him off, everyone loved you. Even your creative writing professor you guys had seemed to adore you, it made his blood boil that you were the teacher's pet.

If only he knew.

He remembers how you had him all figured out before you guys even met.

Bucky scanned through the crowd of people in his house. He, Steve, and Sam threw a celebration party for winning last night's game. Steve had invited his girlfriend, which she invited her sister and their roommate.

He was quite excited to meet this gorgeous angel Natasha always talked about. He spotted Natasha and Yelena; the third girl had her back to him. He could only assume the third girl was you, your soft Y/H/C pulled into a braid. The blue jeans you wore hugged your thighs, your tank top hugging your chest and curves.

He smirked, you really were gorgeous. As he walked closer, he could hear your honeyed voice. He frowned when he heard what you were saying.

“I don’t see how I could like someone like him,” you tell Nat. “He’s probably some fuckboy like every other football player. Some jerk with a high ego.”

Your tone sounded disgusted; he huffed a breath. Any excitement he had for meeting you was long gone. He was so fucking tired of people associating him with the stereotypical quarterback. He wasn’t a fuckboy, far from it.

He'd only been with a few women, contrary to what everyone believed. He didn’t fuck them and leave, no, his ma raised him better than that. He took them out, treated them right, the perfect gentlemen. He was dedicated to any and all his relationships, they just never seemed to work out.

So, when he ran into you later that night, literally, he put up the wall that he hides behind and brushed you off.

A couple of hours later the party is in full swing, people dancing, music blaring. You step out on the back patio, needing a break from the noise and people. You sit in one of the outside chairs, looking at the stars. You mentally scold yourself for not bringing a jacket as you shiver. You feel fuzzy as the whiskey you’d been drinking takes effect.

A few minutes later a sweaty Bucky opens the sliding glass door. He pauses when he sees you. He huffs and closes the door, taking a deep breath of fresh air. You turn away from him, ignoring his presence. You hear the door open a couple of times before you feel a warm leather jacket being set over your shoulders.

The jacket smells of leather and pine, mixed with something else, Bucky. You turn your head to see the man himself standing behind you.

“I don’t need your stupid jacket, James,” you huff and move to slide said jacket off. He places his big hands on your shoulders, keeping the jacket in place.

“Can you for once stop being a fucking brat and just take the goddamn jacket?” He snaps, feed up with your constant attitude.

You shove his hands off you and stand up. “What the hell is your problem?!” You yell, finally at your breaking point.

“My problem?!” He yells back. “My problem is you’re a self-entitled brat who always gets what she wants. Who thinks she knows everyone, well news flash princess, you don’t.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You making assumptions about me before you even get to know me.” You give him a confused look so he continues. “That night at the party you told Nat how you couldn’t ever like someone like me, how I’m an egoistic fuckboy. I'm so fucking tired of people making assumptions.”

Guilt settles into bones; you hadn’t realized he heard you. “Oh, Bucky I’m so-”

“No, you know what?” He continues, cutting you off. “You’re the one with the high ego, everything just has to be your way, doesn’t it? This has to go there, that over there. Everything has to be perfect for little miss sunshine.”

“Wh-”

“No, you’re gonna shut the fuck up for once and listen to me. And it’s not just that, you always get what you want, everyone fucking babies you and adores you. Even the fucking professors love you. I mean it’s pretty obvious you’re a teacher’s pet-”

“Enough!” You yell, your voice breaking. He goes quiet, panting from his rant.

“I’m not the teacher’s pet, she checks up on me to make sure I’m okay. After she read my memoir for our memoir assignments, she started to check up on me. Making sure I was safe where I’m at, if I had a trusted adult to talk too.”

“Awe, did the princess have a few bad memories that she wrote about? Hmm? Well news flash princess everyone has bad memories, that doesn’t excuse that you always get what you want.”

“You know what, fine! You wanna know why I am the way I am?” You yell. “Growing up I didn’t have a fucking say in anything! I was treated like a piece of property; my own father called me his property! I did everything for them, I was 14! 14 and if I didn’t cook or clean no one would.” Your voice breaks.

Bucky goes to say something but you keep going. “My own grandmother got my entire family to hate me and I was only 3, it took years for them to finally figure the truth out. My father would guilt trip me, manipulate me. I took care of my mother at her lowest, watched her on the verge of death and she still favors my brother. Nothing I ever did was good enough! I could go on forever about how fucked up everything was, James.”

Bucky stands there in shock. “Wow...I um...” He doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry for judging you before I got to know you, I really am. But do not call me a brat and say I always get what I want.”

You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. Both of you stand there in silence, filled with guilt at how you’ve both been acting.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. You nod.

“Me too,” you whisper back.

Neither one of you knows who moves first, but one moment you’re looking each other in the eye and the next Bucky has his tongue tangled with yours. He tastes of beer and cake, you moan softly, Bucky swallows the sound like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever had.

His hands, both metal and flesh, grip your ass and pull you closer. His hard bulge grinds against your naval, he groans. When the need for air gets too great, Bucky pulls back and starts to litter your neck with sloppy wet kisses.

“My room,” you shudder. “Now.”

“So fucking bossy,” he grumbles. He throws you over his shoulder and goes back inside. No body pays any attention to either of you, too busy dancing or too drunk to care. He takes the stair two at a time.

You get bold and slide your hands into his jeans, groping his bare ass, he had gone commando. He slaps your ass in retaliation, causing you to yelp. He finally reaches your bedroom, kicking the door shut and tossing you on the bed. You slide up the bed, shoving the pile of stuffed animals onto the floor as you go. Bucky kicks his boots off and climbs on top of you.

Bucky attaches his lips to your neck, sucking and biting. You moan and pull the hairband out of his hair, tangling your fingers in the soft strands of hair. You tug and he groans, you tug harder and he bites down hard.

He kisses down your collar bone to your chest, yanking the crop top off you and groaning when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He takes one nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping as it hardens. You let out a high-pitched whine, the pain mixing with pleasure. His metal hand kneads the other, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference. He switches, giving them both the same treatment.

Once he’s had his fill, he starts to kiss down your stomach, hands groping your thighs.

“These fucking thighs,” he grumbles. “You have any idea how many times I thought of these gorgeous, thick thighs. Fuck.” He’s thought of you?

He pulls your skirt down your legs, tossing it somewhere behind him. He gently undoes the straps on your heels and slides them off. He slides his hands up your thighs, one hot and one cold, he spreads them and groans. He leans forward and licks at your clit through the fabric of your panties, moaning at the taste of your juices.

“Bucky!” You gasp and grip his hair.

“So fucking good,” he mumbles, mouthing at your pussy. He grips your ass, holding you up and shoving his face into your pussy even more. The fabric gets wetter, a combination of your juices and his saliva.

You whine his name and tug his hair, pulling him back up to kiss him, moaning at the taste of your juices on his tongue.

It’s a mess of messy kisses and fumbled movements as Bucky kicks off his jeans and socks, pausing to grind his cock against your panties. Your eyes widen when you see him, he chuckles and tells you not to worry, he’ll fit.

“Bucky please,” you whine.

“I know, baby, I know,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. “I gotta prep you first.”

He rips your panties off, flinging the ruined fabric to the other side of the room. He reaches down with his flesh hand, spreading you slick over your clit before carefully inserting one finger.

You moan and wiggle your hips, impatient. He flicks your thigh and tells you to be patient. He adds a second finger, then a third. He slowly opens you up, teasing and torturing you, rubbing that spot that makes you see stars.

Two can play this game.

You reach down and grab his aching cock, thumbing the slit and spreading the precum that’s gathered there. Bucky moans and bucks his hips, cursing.

“Bucky please, I’m ready. Just fuck me already.”

He grunts and pulls his fingers out, sucking them clean. “I’m clean but I have a condom in my wallet.”

You shake your head. “I’m clean and on birth control.”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. He flips you over, making you face down, ass up. “This fucking juicy ass.” He slaps your ass a couple of time, groping the juicy flesh hard.

“Please,” you whine and push back against him.

Finally, he takes pity on you and lines himself up. He slides all the way in on one thrust, both of you moaning. He gives you a moment to adjust before setting a brutal pace.

He angles his thrusts just right and you don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good in your whole life. He leans down, plastering his sweat slicked chest to your back and kisses your shoulder and neck.

You make little noises with every thrust, fueling Bucky, his own groans and grunts right next to your ear.

“So fucking tight, shit,” he moans into your shoulder. He reaches down and starts to rub tight circles over your clit and you cry out.

“Fuck! Bucky please!”

“Can feel you squeezing me, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm?”

“Yes! Please! I’m so close!” You moan.

“Cum.” His thrusts turn even more punishing, if possible, focusing on that spot. Your thighs start to shake. His perfect thrusts and the pressure on your clit push you over the edge. Your eyes roll back, hands griping the sheets so tight they could rip.

Bucky's pace stutters, you clenching his so tight he cums seconds after you do. He collapses on top of you, both of you trembling and panting.

He rolls off you to the side, pulling the sheets over you both and spooning you from behind. You both succumb to sleep minutes later, too exhausted to talk about what just happened.

______

The morning sun shines through your blinds, the birds chirp outside your window. You groan and roll over, not wanting to get up just yet. You reach out for Bucky, only to find cold sheets.

Bucky was gone.

#honeybunnywrites #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #sebastian stan #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut

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velvetreds · 4 months ago

Text

STFU — K. KOZUME

cws; swearing, writing lowkey gives stephen king at one point because i read like four novels in a row while writing this, misunderstandings, gn!reader i think

wc; 1667

"kenma."

he groaned.

"kenma."

"mm." his eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the — extremely fetching — sight of you hovering over him. you looked beautiful, as usual, even though you'd just woken up, and he cracked a small, sleepy smile. okay, he'd seen you. time to go back to sleep. but as soon as he closed his eyes, you poked his cheek to wake him up again.

"y/n, what the hell..."

"you have to wake up, you have practice!"

"fuck practice," he whined, burying his face in his pillow. the awesomest. sleepover of his entire life could not be ending like this. he heard you giggling behind him and groaned again. "i just wanna sleep!" he stopped talking, preparing to doze off again.

"is it too late to join a different club?"

"no," you told him forcefully. "and you're my best friend, so i'd love to let you sleep, but i can't exactly tell kuroo or the coach that, can i?"

and you're my best friend and i'm in love with you, but i can't exactly tell you that either, so we don't always get what we want, do we? he thought drowsily. or he thought he did, anyways, because the next thing he heard was your gasp — maybe a bit too loud, but it was there all the same, and shit, he must've said it out loud.

"what was that?" you asked him, and for a second he panicked.

kenma had never really been a fan of volleyball. it's nothing he hated, but he was sure he'd be perfectly fine without it too. and it was tiring. but he had learnt one thing from it — or maybe he'd known it all along, and it just helped him improve — and that one thing just happened to be bluffing. so he rolled over to stare at you blankly. "huh? I didn't say anything."

"okay," you said, but you weren't really sure he was telling the truth. sometime after you walked him to practice, he started avoiding you, and then you had to accept that yeah, he'd lied.

how could he accidentally confess his love to someone while half asleep? kenma had no idea; furthermore, he was haunted by the fear of other people finding out what he'd kept carefully hidden for over half a decade. he remembered being twelve and kuroo grinning at him so all-knowingly at him. i know what you are, he'd said. not aloud, but kenma had heard it clear as day, just as he noticed how kuroo's canines were glinting unnaturally in the sunlight, and seconds before getting hit squarely in the face with a volleyball because he'd looked away to stare at you. it had totally been worth it, though, he decided, when you came over to his house with a bag of candy and some cold soda.

he was struck with the sudden realisation that he's holding the exact same soda — completely identical, down to the flavour and the size of the bottle — in one hand as his fingers slowly grew numb from the cold when he saw you again, talking to kuroo as the two of you approached him. he was acutely aware of the condensation dripping down his fingers when kuroo yelled out to him, and he waved at the two of nervously with his free hand, trying to gauge your reaction. you waved back, and he was filled with a swirl of emotions, including but definitely not limited to relief.

you didn't find it suspicious when kuroo "had to go" somewhere barely two minutes into your conversations, but kenma did. said suspicions were further confirmed when kuroo — after making sure your back was turned — grinned at him wolfishly and mouthed "good luck" to him as he left.

almost immediately after kuroo disappeared, the atmosphere shifted before either of you even said anything. there was reproach in your gaze as you stared at him silently

(why are you ignoring me?)

there was an unspoken apology in his.

(i'm sorry so sorry i fucked up i didn't mean to this is all my fault)

drip

the two of you stood in silence.

drip

another drop of condensation hit the ground.

you glanced at your watch for the third time.

"do i... do you want me to walk you home?" he asked.

say no, you told yourself. give him the same treatment he gave you.

"yes," you said aloud. "i'd like that."

you had never been able to say no to him, after all.

the walk back to your house was warm and sticky, a textbook summer day if there ever was one. kenma had been looking forward to his stupid drink, but your reddened cheeks and the way your hair clung to your sweaty forehead made him pity you enough to wrench the cap off and hold the bottle out to you. you drank gratefully, and it appeared that you'd cooled down a bit afterwards. alongside your body temperature, the simmering tension between the two of you also went down considerably.

"kenma, will you come in for a bit?" you asked at your door, fingers still wrapped around the neck of the half-empty soda bottle. you weren't sure why you asked, exactly, but you did want to talk things out — losing kenma like this wasn't something you wanted in any way, and you'd lose kuroo by proxy too, resulting in you having a total of zero best friends.

"sure," he replied. to anyone else, his voice would've sounded the same as usual — monotonous, a little bored — but you knew better. he was nervous. for a moment, that made you happy in a weird, twisted sort of way.

he sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor, eyes glued to the switch in his hands as he played. however, today his attention was on you, instead, mind subconsciously following you around your room. hearing you shuffle into the bathroom, he relaxed, but only a little. for some reason, he was sure that your silence was much more terrifying than whatever you were planning to say to him.

when you came out, you looked refreshed, calmer. you padded to your bed, now in your pjs and the terrible fluffy slippers that kenma always despised — until today. how could he ever have hated them, he wondered, when they were so indisputably you?

you forced him into the bathroom next (no sweaty people allowed in my room!) along with some of his clothes he'd left at yours before. it wasn't anything new. all three of you — you, kenma, kuroo — had each other's stuff scattered all around your rooms. the three of you had had a very equal relationship — or so you'd thought. until that fateful day almost a fortnight ago, when kenma had mumbled out an accidental love confession while trying to skip out on practice. surely it wasn't an actual confession, you thought. there was no way he could possibly like someone like you, right?

yeah. exactly. it was an accident, and he felt bad for leading you on so he avoided you. but how could he have known? there was no way that kuroo told him, was there? a new wave of panic washed over you, and you couldn't help but jump in surprise as kenma accidentally opened the bathroom door with an unnecessary amount of extra force and re-entered your room.

"kenma," you sighed with relief. "i got scared for a sec."

"who else would it be?" he asked, a small, slow smile creeping across his face.

"no— i don't know..." you trailed off. before you could say anything else, kenma decided to speak.

"i'm sorry," he said.

"whahuh?" the two words had caught you completely off guard. you hadn't been expecting him to say a specific thing, but you hadn't expected him to apologise either. he bristled uncomfortably under your surprised deer-in-headlights stare.

"i've been avoiding you," he tried next. it was true; you both knew it by now. how were you even supposed to respond? everything you thought of seemed wrong for the situation. instead, you decided to ask a question in return.

"why'd you say you were in love with me?"

kenma cringed at your question, as if it caused him to feel some sort of physical discomfort. "because? i am?"

it came out as more of a question than a statement, and only served to confuse you more. "what?"

and then the words finally registered into your brain, and your face creased into a little frown — an adorable one, too, kenma thought, but he had to remind himself to not get carried away right now. "no, that's impossible. who put you up to this, kuroo?"

a pained grimace crossed his face. "what? no. besides, kuro would never do that."

"then?" you demanded. no response. the two of you stayed silent, you sitting on your bed, and him at the other end of the room.

"um, i was twelve." kenma was the first to break the tensed silence, hating the sound of his own voice.

"when i first liked you, i guess," he added as an afterthought.

"no." you sat up straighter, eyes flicking to the calendar, where a date was circled in bright red marker. beside it, there was an extremely artistic rendition of what you could only guess to be a pudding, done by none other than kuroo. the marked date was kenma's eighteenth birthday. "that's—"

"a long time, i know," replied kenma resignedly. "kuro's told me enough, you don't have to make it worse."

"but i—"

"i know you don't reciprocate, and i'm not asking you to. all i want is for you to forget this ever—"

"kenma, shut the fuck up and let me speak!" you shrieked, tired of his delusional rambling. he flinched at the sound of your voice, but obeyed you all the same.

"i love you too, okay? so stop being stupid!"

kenma blinked in surprise. "huh?"

"didn't see that coming, did you?" you slid off your bed, grinning at him triumphantly.

i dont remember writing this or the process or anything at all. help :3 almost done with the screenshots for unreq lvrs org btw!!!!

#haikyuu #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #haikyuu kenma #hq kenma #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #kenma fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #dividers by bucciniexe #kenma #kozume x reader #kenma x gn!reader

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lila-lou · 3 months ago

Text

✨His true fate - Part 18/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Smut and more Smut, Teasing, Language, age gap, flirting, angst, fluff

Word Count: 9167

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You didn’t know how many times you let the water rinse out and filled the tub with fresh hot water. You also lost count of how many bath bombs you had used by now, their scents blending together in a soothing, but ultimately ineffective, attempt to lift your spirits. You couldn’t bring yourself to get out of the tub. It had been over two hours, and by now your skin looked like that of an 80-year-old.

Just then, you heard a soft knock against the doorframe. You glanced up to see Jensen standing there, a concerned look on his face.

“Hey”, he said softly, his voice filled with gentle concern.

You looked back down at your pruned, popped-up knees. “Hey”, you mumbled.

Jensen stepped further into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He knelt beside the tub, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your emotional storm. “You’re okay?”, Jensen asked gently. He knew you weren’t okay, could see it in the way you avoided meeting his eyes, in the way your shoulders were tensed despite the warmth of the water.

His chin rested on the edge of the bathtub as he waited patiently for you to look at him. The air between you held a palpable tension, filled with unspoken words and emotions swirling beneath the surface. Jensen’s concern radiated from him, a silent plea for you to open up, to let him in.

You finally raised your eyes to meet his. “I… I’m just tired”, you admitted quietly, your voice wavering slightly.

Jensen’s expression softened even more, his concern deepening. “I can see that”, he said gently. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”.

A lump formed in your throat as you struggled to put your feelings into words. It was a lot for you to take in—all the female fans hugging him, crushing on him, screaming at him, literally paying money for a glimpse of him. And then there was his public persona, speaking about his wife and acting like everything was fine with his marriage. It made you feel like a secret, hidden away from his friends and the world. You were a girl half his age, his affair, his side chick, or whatever the fuck you were. The thought made you feel stupid and insignificant.

But you didn’t want to cause him stress, so you just shook your head slightly. “It’s nothing”, you lied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just a lot going on”.

Jensen wasn’t convinced. He reached out, gently cupping your face and urging you to look at him. “Please, talk to me”, he said softly. “One of the reasons things work so well between us is because we talk about everything. I don’t want you to hold back”.

His words tugged at your heart, making it harder to keep your emotions bottled up. Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally let the truth spill out. “It’s just… everything”, you began, your voice cracking. “Seeing all those fans today, hugging you, screaming for you… And then hearing you talk about your wife like everything is fine. It just… it made me feel stupid".

You couldn’t help but let your tears roll down your cheeks. “I don’t want to be too clingy, Jensen”, you mumbled, your voice trembling. “But I can’t help how I feel. I… I just have such intense feelings already for you. I never had something like this before. I never felt so strong for someone like I do for you”.

Seeing you cry was the most terrible thing Jensen had ever experienced. He felt a sharp pang of regret and helplessness, and he remembered Jared’s words about needing to tell you how he truly felt. But the weight of his complicated life held him back, making the words stick in his throat.

Jensen took a deep breath, his hands gently cupping your face as he wiped away your tears with his thumbs. “I’m so sorry”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to make you feel this way. You mean so much to me, more than I can put into words”.

"Forget what I just said”, you mumbled, pulling slightly away from him and brushing your tears away harshly. “It’s stupid”, you muttered, grabbing your towel and slowly getting out of the bathtub. You felt too vulnerable sitting in front of him like that.

Jensen watched you, his heart aching at the sight of you pulling away. He stood up, giving you space but not wanting to let the moment slip away without addressing your feelings. “It’s not stupid”, he said softly, his eyes following your movements as you wrapped the towel around yourself.

You turned to face him, trying to regain some composure. “It is. I shouldn’t have said anything. You have enough on your plate”.

Jensen stepped closer, but kept a respectful distance, his voice gentle but firm. “No, you shouldn’t have to keep these feelings bottled up. They’re valid, and they matter. You matter to me”.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “I just don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to complicate your life even more”.

“You’re not a burden”, he insisted, his eyes filled with sincerity. “And yes, things are complicated, but that doesn’t mean your feelings don’t count. I want to know how you feel, even if it’s hard to hear”.

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt or insincerity. But all you saw was concern and a deep longing to make things right. “I just don’t know how to fit into your life without feeling like a meaningless affair”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen’s heart ached, feeling the weight of your words. He knew your point wasn’t about wanting to be in the spotlight. It was about wanting to share the simple, everyday moments that couples take for granted. Things like going out to dinner or holding hands in public without fear. But right now, with the complexities of his life, there was no easy way to make that happen.

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I understand what you’re saying”, he began, his voice low and filled with emotion. “And I know it’s not fair to you. I wish I could change things right now, make it so we could just be normal. But it’s going to take time”.

You nodded, the towel wrapped tightly around you as if it could shield you from the pain. “I get that. I really do. But it doesn’t make it any easier”.

Jensen stepped closer, his hands reaching out but stopping short. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know how long it will take to get to a place where we can have that normalcy. But I want you to know that I’m committed to trying. I don’t see you as a burden, and I never will".

Again, tears rolled down your cheeks. You felt terrible for causing him stress already after such a short time. “I’m sorry”, you mumbled, feeling the urge to walk away and give him space.

As you turned to leave, Jensen reached out and gently held your wrist, his touch firm but gentle. “Don’t apologize”, he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “You have nothing to be sorry for”.

You looked back at him, your eyes filled with doubt and sorrow. “I just don’t want to make things harder for you”.

Jensen shook his head, taking a step closer. “You’re not making things harder. You’re helping me understand what you need, what we both need to make this work. We’re in this together, remember?”.

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. The warmth of his body and the sincerity in his touch gave you a sense of comfort, easing the ache in your heart. “We’ll figure it out”, he whispered against your hair. “Just… please don’t be mad at me. I’m trying, I really am”.

You pressed your face against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “I’m not mad at you”, you mumbled into his shirt. “I’m mad at me. For feeling this way, for wanting more”.

Jensen tightened his embrace, his hand gently stroking your hair. “Don’t be mad at yourself either. It’s okay to want more. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling”.

You took a shaky breath, absorbing his words. “I just want to be with you, without all these complications”.

“I know”, he said softly, his voice filled with understanding. “And I want that too… We’ll find a way to make it work”.

You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, seeing the determination and sincerity there. “Promise me we’ll try”, you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I promise. We’ll try, and we’ll do it . And no more feeling like you’re just an afterthought”.

He sighed, mumbling, “Because you’re not”, while gently brushing his hand over your back. Deep down, he knew you needed to hear those three words, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say them out loud. Not yet.

You nodded, appreciating his honesty, even though you sensed his struggle. “I believe you”, you whispered, holding him a little tighter. The weight of the unspoken words lingered between you, but his touch and his presence provided a sense of comfort and reassurance.

Jensen pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment.

There was a silence before he spoke again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken you to the convention", he said hesitantly, concern evident in his voice.

You shook your head, interrupting him. “No, Jensen. It was good. I needed to see that side of your life. It’s better to face it sooner rather than later. And honestly”, you continued, a small smile forming on your lips, “I felt so proud seeing you up there, seeing how much your fans love you”.

His eyes softened at your words, and he took a deep breath, relief mixing with lingering concern. “I just don’t want you to feel like this again. It hurts to see you so upset”.

You bit your lip as you saw the sincerity in his eyes. Your heart swelled, and you gently pulled him down to you by his neck. Without another word, you brought your lips to his, a soft yet fervent kiss that conveyed all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. After all, he was here. With you. With no one else, and that’s what mattered.

Jensen responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. The warmth and tenderness of the moment reassured you, grounding you in the reality of his presence and the strength of your connection.

Jensen carefully lifted you onto his hips, your towel slipping away as he did so. You couldn’t help but laugh as you heard a soft crack from his back. The sound made you pull away from his lips, pressing your face against his neck to stifle your giggles. Your naked body was pressed intimately against his, creating a delicious friction.

Jensen chuckled along with you, a playful grin spreading across his face. “You think that’s funny, huh?”, he teased, his voice a mix of amusement and mock annoyance.

You nodded, your laughter muffled against his neck. “A little”, you admitted, still giggling.

“Well, I’m glad my old man back can amuse you”, he replied, his tone light but affectionate. He shifted his grip slightly, adjusting to hold you more securely. “But you better be careful, or I might just drop you”.

You gasped in mock horror, tightening your legs around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare”, you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”, he said, raising an eyebrow. He took a few exaggerated, wobbly steps, making you laugh even harder.

“Okay, okay, I surrender”, you said, breathless from laughter. “Please don’t drop me”.

Jensen smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Never”, he said seriously, his playful tone gone. “I would never drop you”.

You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “I know”, you whispered against his mouth.

With that, he carried you towards the couch, placing you softly on it. As he pulled away, he took a moment to look up and down your naked body, his eyes filled with admiration and warmth. Then, with a dramatic flair, he dropped slowly to his knees, his face level with your belly.

“How incredibly beautiful you are”, he mumbled theatrically, his hands gently tracing the contours of your sides. His voice was filled with mock seriousness, yet there was an undeniable sincerity in his eyes.

You giggled, feeling a mix of amusement and affection. “You’re ridiculous”, you said, your laughter bubbling up again.

Jensen’s grin widened as he continued his dramatic performance. “Ridiculously lucky to have you”, he declared, his hands gently caressing your thighs. “Here I am, an old man with a creaky back, and you… you’re a vision of beauty and youth”.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking your head. “You’re not that old”, you teased back, your voice light with affection.

“Oh, but I am”, he insisted, keeping his tone exaggeratedly serious. “Every time I lift you, my back reminds me of my age”, As he spoke, he slowly began to spread your legs, his touch gentle yet firm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath hitched slightly at the intimacy of the moment, but the playful atmosphere kept things light. “Well, maybe you should stop lifting me then”, you suggested, your voice teasing.

Jensen shook his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Never. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make”, he said, leaning in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

His words and actions sent shivers through you, a mixture of laughter and desire making your heart race. “You’re impossible”, you murmured, your hands gently threading through his hair.

His eyes never leaving yours, Jensen leaned in even closer, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. His lips were just inches away from your most intimate part, and you could feel his breath against your skin.

“You think I’m impossible?”, he teased, his voice low and husky. “Well, maybe I am. But I’m also determined. Determined to make you feel as incredible as you make me feel”.

You could only manage a soft whimper in response, the anticipation building inside you. Jensen’s hands gently stroked your thighs, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”, he continued, his lips brushing ever so lightly against your skin, teasing you without giving you what you desperately wanted. “Every inch of you… I could spend hours just touching, finding all the ways to make you moan”.

Your breathing grew heavier, your hands clutching at the cushions beneath you. “Jensen, please”, you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Please what, darling?”, he asked, his lips so close now that you could almost feel them on you. “Tell me what you want”.

You locked eyes with him, your desire and anticipation palpable as his lips hovered close to your skin.

“Please”, you repeated, your voice a desperate plea, your body arching slightly towards him. “I need you”.

Jensen’s smirk softened into a tender smile as he finally gave in to your request. Without another word, he closed the remaining distance, his lips meeting your most sensitive spot with a deliberate and passionate kiss. The sensation sent an electric jolt through your body, causing you to gasp and clutch onto him tightly.

Jensen’s tongue moved with deliberate precision, the warmth of his mouth enveloping your most sensitive areas. Each gentle lick sent a shiver through your body, the sensation both soothing and electrifying. His hands continued to caress your thighs, his touch light and teasing as he focused entirely on your pleasure.

Your breaths came in shallow gasps, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as he worked his magic. The friction of his movements, the pressure of his lips and tongue against you, built an intense, consuming heat within you. Your body responded eagerly, arching towards him, seeking more of his touch.

Jensen alternated between slow, deliberate strokes and quick, flicking motions that left you whimpering with need. His eyes flicked up to meet yours occasionally, the desire in his gaze making the moment even more intimate.

As the pleasure built, your muscles tensed, your body trembling under his skilled touch. The intensity of his attention, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, brought you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans grew louder, your fingers tightening in his hair, urging him on.

Jensen responded to your silent pleas, increasing the intensity of his movements. His tongue moved faster, more insistent, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady as you writhed under him.

Just as you felt the wave of your climax approaching, Jensen suddenly stopped. He pulled his mouth away, leaving you teetering on the edge of release. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he looked up at you, clearly enjoying the teasing.

“Jensen”, you whimpered, your voice thick with desperation and need.

He shifted until he was sitting on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, he began to open his belt, his movements deliberate and tantalizing. “I think it’s about time for some tutoring”, he murmured, his tone playful yet commanding.

Your breath hitched at his words, a mixture of frustration and excitement coursing through you. You watched as he undid his jeans.

Jensen leaned back, his eyes dark with desire as he gestured for you to come closer. “C´mere”, he said softly, his voice filled with a mix of authority and affection.

You moved towards him, your body still humming with the need for release. As you reached him, Jensen pulled you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips. He guided you with gentle hands, positioning you just right, making sure you felt the full length of his arousal pressing against you.

He brought his mouth to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “I want to feel you”, he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, a mix of nervousness and anticipation creeping inside you as Jensen’s hands firmly gripped your hips, guiding you. He lifted you slightly, positioning himself at your entrance. The sensation of his hardness pressing against you made your breath catch.

“Relax”, he murmured softly. “I’m here with you”.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. Jensen’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. Slowly, he began to lower you onto him, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through your body. Inch by inch, he filled you, stretching you in the most delicious way.

“Fuck, you feel amazing”, he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he finally buried himself fully inside you.

You whimpered quietly as Jensen filled you to the brim, the sensation both intense and overwhelming. You still weren’t used to his size, and the feeling of him stretching you was almost too much to bear. Your hands trembled as you placed them against his chest, seeking some stability.

Jensen noticed your shivering hands and brought one of his own up to cover them, squeezing gently. “Take your time”, he whispered.

You nodded, taking deep, steadying breaths as you adjusted to the fullness. His touch, both on your hands and your hips, provided a grounding sense of comfort and support.

Gradually, the initial intensity eased, replaced by a growing wave of pleasure. You began to move, experimenting with small, slow movements at first, finding a rhythm that felt right.

“You’re doing so well”, he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

Emboldened by his words, you began to move more confidently, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down onto him. You were better than the last time, but still way too insecure. Jensen could see the effort you were putting in and gave you time, clearly enjoying how you tried to find a rhythm that would fit you.

After a while, however, he leaned in and began kissing your neck, his lips soft and reassuring against your skin. “Remember what I showed you”, he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His other hand dropped to your hip, gently urging you to roll your hips on him at a different angle.

Slowly, you began to roll your hips, experimenting with the angle he suggested. The new motion sent a wave of pleasure through you, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“That’s it”, Jensen murmured against your neck, his voice a mix of praise and desire. His hands guided your movements, helping you find a rhythm that felt even better. The sensation of him inside you, combined with the intimate kisses on your neck, made you feel both cherished and empowered.

You continued to move, your confidence growing with each thrust and roll of your hips. Jensen’s hands stayed on your hips, guiding and supporting you, his own pleasure evident in the way his breathing quickened and his grip tightened.

As you found your rhythm, the pleasure between you intensified. Your movements became more fluid and natural, the connection between you deepening with every motion. Jensen’s hands roamed your back and hips, his touch both grounding and electrifying.

The new angle and rhythm brought you both closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure—your breathy moans, his deep groans, the intimate whispers and encouragements exchanged between you.

“That’s perfect”, Jensen whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. “Just like that”.

You felt a surge of pride and excitement at his words, knowing you were bringing him as much pleasure as he was bringing you. The intensity of the moment grew, the friction and heat building with each movement.

His lips brushing against your neck before sucking on your soft flesh, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His hands wandered up to your waist, his touch firm and reassuring.

As he pulled his lips away, he leaned back slightly, giving himself a better view of you riding him. His eyes were dark with lust, watching intently as your body moved, taking him in with each thrust. The sight of your pussy enveloping his cock, stretching around him, sent a thrill through him, intensifying his desire.

“Look at you”, he groaned, his hands tightening on your waist. “So beautiful”.

Jensen couldn’t get enough of the sight in front of him. The way your breasts bounced ever so softly with each movement, the glistening wetness dripping down his cock every time you lifted your hips, and the way your mouth hung open, releasing moan after moan—it was all driving him wild with desire.

“Keep going”, he urged, his voice a mix of command and raw need. “Don’t stop. You’re doing so good, baby”.

You bit your lip and moved with renewed vigor, riding him harder, the rhythm between you perfect. Every thrust sent waves of ecstasy through your body, the pleasure almost too intense to bear.

Jensen’s hands roamed your body, caressing your waist, your back, and your breasts. His touch was firm and possessive, grounding you in the moment and intensifying the connection between you. His eyes never left you, drinking in every detail of your pleasure.

Jensen’s desire to push you further spurred him into action. With one flat palm, he pressed gently on your stomach, urging you to lean back slightly. “Hold on to my thighs”, he whispered, his voice low and commanding.

You did as he instructed, gripping his thighs behind you. The new angle changed everything. The moment you shifted back, the intensity of the sensations amplified.

Your head fell back as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. Your body shuddered as you rode the waves of intense pleasure. The angle and depth of Jensen’s thrusts were perfect, hitting spots inside you that sent shockwaves through your entire being. You felt the build-up, the tight coiling within you reaching its peak.

“There you go”, he murmured.

The sound of his voice, the intensity in his eyes, and the overwhelming sensation of him inside you all combined to send you over the edge. You came hard around him, your muscles tightening and pulsing, your breath catching in a series of gasps and moans.

Your entire body trembled with the force of your orgasm, the pleasure radiating out in powerful waves. Jensen’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his own breaths coming in ragged bursts as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging your ecstasy.

As your orgasm began to subside, you felt Jensen’s rhythm falter slightly, a sign of his own impending release. His grip on your hips was almost bruising now, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate.

“Fuck Baby”, he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You felt a rush of satisfaction at his words, knowing you had pushed him to the brink. With a few more powerful thrusts, Jensen’s body tensed, and he let out a deep, guttural moan as he found his release. You could feel him pulsing inside you, the sensation adding a final, intense burst of pleasure to your already overwhelmed senses.

As the last waves of pleasure subsided, you let yourself fall forward against Jensen’s chest, your body trembling and your breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. You clung to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you sought to steady yourself.

Jensen held you close, his own breathing heavy and uneven. He gently stroked your back, his touch soothing and grounding as you both came down from the intense high. His heart pounded against your chest, a steady reminder of the connection you shared.

“Fuck, that was amazing”, he murmured against your hair, his voice still thick with emotion and satisfaction.

You nodded against him, unable to find the words to express how incredible it had been. Instead, you pressed a soft kiss to his neck, your lips lingering on his skin as you savored the closeness.

As Jensen’s hands continued to move gently over your back, providing a soothing and reassuring touch, you both basked in the afterglow of your shared intimacy. The silence was comfortable, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing.

After a while, Jensen softly murmured against your hair, “Do you think you can handle tomorrow with this on your mind?”.

You lifted your head slightly, looking into his eyes. “I think I can”, you replied with a soft grin.

Jensen’s eyes softened further, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. As he pressed you tighter against him, you felt his softened dick slip out of you, causing a warm sensation as his cum began to drip out of you, pooling onto his crotch.

You both paused for a moment, the intimacy of the situation deepening.

Jensen chuckled softly, breaking the silence with a lighthearted comment. “I really cause a mess every time, don’t I?”, he said, his tone playful yet tender.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound easing the remaining tension in the room. “Yeah, you do”, you replied, your voice equally playful. “But I guess it’s a good kind of mess”.

Jensen smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Definitely a good kind of mess”, he agreed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Jensen glanced around the room, looking a bit helpless as he searched for something to clean up the mess between the two of you. You chuckled softly, finding the situation amusing yet endearing. Without missing a beat, you reached under the coffee table and retrieved a tissue box.

“Here”, you said with a playful grin, handing him the tissues.

Jensen took the tissues, chuckling as he leaned back slightly to make some room. He gently pressed you back, ensuring there was enough space for him to clean himself up and tend to your needs. His touch remained gentle and caring, a stark contrast to the heated passion just moments ago.

As he started to clean himself, you couldn’t help but tease him. “You know, for someone who makes such a mess, you sure are meticulous about cleaning up”, you said, your voice light and playful.

Jensen chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, I can’t have you thinking I’m a complete slob, can I?”, he replied, his tone equally teasing. “Besides, I have to make sure you’re comfortable”.

You grinned. “Such a gentleman”, you said, your voice dripping with mock admiration.

He smirked, gently wiping away the remnants of your lovemaking. “Always”, he said with a wink. As he finished cleaning himself, he turned his attention to you, his touch tender and attentive.

“Now, let’s see about you”, he murmured, gently parting your legs to clean you up. His touch was soft and deliberate, making sure you were comfortable throughout.

You couldn’t help but squirm a little under his attention, feeling both embarrassed and cherished. “Jensen”, you said, your voice a mix of teasing and shyness, “you’re too good at this”.

He looked up at you with a mischievous grin. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet”, he teased, his eyes twinkling. “Just wait until I really get started”.

You laughed, swatting at his arm playfully. “You’re impossible”.

Jensen laughed softly, his eyes alight with affection as he continued to clean you up with gentle care.

He maintained eye contact with you, his expression soft yet filled with a subtle hunger. His fingers traced over your skin delicately, ensuring every trace of his touch was comforting and reassuring.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”, you teased lightly as you watched him work.

His grin widened. “Maybe a little too much”, he admitted.

Just then, his phone rang, interrupting the tender moment between you two. He sighed softly and nodded toward his phone, indicating for you to get it.

“Hey, Jared”, you answered, trying to keep your voice steady despite the intimacy of the moment.

Jared’s voice came through, sounding both exasperated and amused. “Oh no, not again”.

You chuckled, putting Jared on speaker. “It’s fine, Jared. Jensen just… needs to clean up the mess he made”.

Jared grumbled playfully on the other end. “Do I even want to know what mess?”.

Jensen, still working to clean the last remnants of your intimate time together, grinned and glanced up at you, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Probably not, Padalecki”, he called out, his voice filled with humor.

Jared laughed heartily, the sound lightening the mood even further. “Well, as long as you’re multitasking, I guess I’ll allow it”.

Then Jared’s tone shifted to one of mild concern. “Hey, why I called, have you seen my wallet? I think I lost it somewhere”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, a fond smile playing on his lips. “How do you manage to lose your wallet every other day?”.

You chuckled, shaking your head at Jared’s usual forgetfulness. “Check the usual spots, Jared”, Jensen continued. “Your car, the couch, your jacket…”.

Jared sighed dramatically on the other end. “I’ve looked everywhere! I’m starting to think it might have grown legs and walked away”.

“Maybe it’s in the green room. You know how you always leave stuff there”.

Jared sighed again, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re probably right. I’ll check there first thing tomorrow”.

“Good idea”, Jensen replied, his tone light. “And if it’s not there, we’ll help you search. It can’t have gone far”.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it”, Jared said, sounding relieved. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to… whatever you were doing”.

Jensen smirked, glancing at you with a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, thanks, Jared. See you tomorrow”.

“See you both tomorrow”, Jared replied before hanging up.

Jensen set the phone aside and turned his full attention back to you, his hands resuming their gentle, soothing movements. “Sorry about that”, he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate.

You shook your head, smiling. “It’s fine. Jared always knows how to make things interesting”.

Jensen chuckled. “That he does”, He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “Now, where were we?”.

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I believe you were multitasking”.

Jensen grinned, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. “Right. Let’s get back to that, shall we?”.

As he resumed his tender ministrations, you felt a deep sense of contentment and connection. Despite the interruptions, the love and intimacy between you remained unshaken.

Jensen finished cleaning you up, only for the two of you to end up making the same delightful mess an hour later. Eventually, way too late into the night, you both lay in bed, completely spent.

You were facing the window, the soft glow of the moon casting a gentle light across the room. Jensen held you tight against his chest, his strong arms wrapped protectively around you. Your back was pressed softly against his torso, the warmth of his body providing a comforting cocoon.

He peppered your naked shoulder with gentle kisses. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the exhaustion that weighed on your limbs.

Jensen mumbled against your shoulder, his voice tinged with exhaustion and amusement. “I’m going to be so tired tomorrow”, he said with a soft chuckle. “I think even my muscles will be sore. My hips are fucking killing me”.

You couldn’t help but let out a tired chuckle in response. “Well, that’s what you get for multitasking”, you teased, your voice playful despite your fatigue. “You should have paced yourself, old man”.

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through your back. “I don’t remember you complaining earlier”,

You smirked, feeling a warm rush of affection. “I guess I was too busy enjoying myself”.

Jensen tightened his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “It pretty much seemed like it”, he mumbled, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. His kisses continued, each one sending a shiver of warmth through you.

One of his hands slowly inched down from your hips to your lower stomach, his touch gentle and teasing. “You know”, he murmured between kisses, “I could get used to making you enjoy yourself like that every night”.

You smiled, feeling a mixture of affection and desire. “You might need to start taking vitamins, then”, you teased lightly, your voice a soft whisper.

Jensen chuckled, his hand stilling for a moment as he pressed a firmer kiss to your neck. “Is that so? Well, I suppose I’ll just have to do my best to keep up”.

His hand resumed its journey, tracing delicate patterns across your skin. The sensation was both soothing and electrifying, making you sigh with contentment.

Jensen’s hand continued its teasing journey, brushing over your thighs with featherlight touches before finally slipping between them. The sensation made you groan softly, a mix of pleasure and fatigue evident in your voice. “Jensen, please”, you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m completely spent”.

Jensen paused for a moment. “Are you sure about that?”, he whispered playfully, his fingers lightly brushing against your sensitive skin. His touch was gentle, but the teasing intent behind it was clear.

You groaned softly again, trying to muster the energy to respond. “Jensen, I swear, I can’t take any more tonight”, you said, your voice both pleading and affectionate.

You hesitated before whispering, “It already hurts… down there. And you said yourself you’re exhausted”.

Jensen sighed softly, acknowledging your words. But as he felt your naked body pressed against him, he couldn’t help but notice his own growing arousal. “How about we try something different then?”, he mumbled, his voice low and filled with suggestion. His hand moved to gently palm your ass, signaling what he meant.

You felt a shiver run through you, a mix of exhaustion and renewed desire. “Jensen…”, you murmured, your voice a blend of uncertainty and curiosity.

His touch was gentle, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of your ass. “I promise to be gentle”, he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “We’ll take it slow”.

Your heart started to race, and you bit your lip as the anticipation and nervousness built up. “Jay…”, you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never done this before”.

Since your back was turned toward Jensen, you couldn’t see his reaction, but you could feel it. The fact that this was new territory for you seemed to excite him even more. He groaned softly against your back, his breath warm on your skin.

You heard from your friends that it’s a strange feeling and it hurts, making you even more nervous. “I’ve heard it can hurt”, you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Jensen’s hands continued to knead your ass gently, his touch both reassuring and arousing. “It can be a strange feeling at first”, he admitted softly, “but it doesn’t have to hurt. I promise to go slow and make sure you’re comfortable”.

You bit your lip, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in your stomach. “Are you sure?”, you asked, seeking reassurance.

Jensen pressed another soft kiss to your shoulder. “It’s not my first time”, he murmured, his voice filled with gentle confidence. “I know what I’m doing, and I promise I’ll be gentle. Just trust me”.

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease with his words. “Okay”, you whispered.

Jensen smiled against your skin, his hands continuing their soothing movements. “Good”, he said softly. “Just relax and let me take care of you”.

Jensen’s hands continued their soothing movements.Then, he paused for a moment, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “You have any lube?”, he asked softly.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you mumbled, “In the nightstand”.

Jensen reached over, opening the drawer and retrieving the lube. He squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers, ensuring they were well-coated before returning his attention to you.

“Okay, I’m going to start with this”, he said gently, his voice filled with reassurance. “Just relax and breathe”.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in your stomach.

Jensen’s fingers, now slick with lube, moved to your entrance. His touch was gentle and deliberate. He started by gently massaging the area, his fingers working the lube in with slow, circular motions.

“Just relax”, he whispered soothingly. “Breathe in and out”.

You focused on your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, trying to relax into the sensation. Jensen’s touch was calming, his fingers moving with expertise and care. He began to apply gentle pressure, his fingertip just barely pressing against you, waiting for your body to adjust.

“How does that feel?”, he asked.

“Different… but okay”, you murmured, your voice still trembling slightly.

Jensen nodded, his other hand continuing to caress your back reassuringly. He slowly, carefully, began to push his finger inside, moving at a pace that allowed you to adjust to the new sensation. He paused frequently, making sure you were comfortable before continuing.

“You’re doing great”, he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Just keep breathing”.

His finger moved deeper, the sensation both strange and intimate. Jensen’s touch remained gentle, his movements slow and deliberate. He added more lube as needed.

“How’s that?”, he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You bit your lip, your voice strained as you admitted, “It kinda hurts”.

Jensen paused immediately, his fingers stilling as he pressed a soothing kiss to your shoulder. “It’s okay”, he murmured, his voice gentle and reassuring. “What you’re feeling is mostly pressure. It might feel like it hurts, but it’s just your body adjusting”.

He resumed his gentle movements, his fingers working more lube in to ensure you were as comfortable as possible. “I promise, I’ll go slow and be careful. If it gets too much, just tell me, and we’ll stop”.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the calming rhythm of Jensen’s touch. The initial discomfort began to ease slightly as you relaxed more into the sensation. “Okay”, you whispered, trusting him completely.

Jensen continued with careful precision, his touch both respectful and loving. He took his time, ensuring that you were comfortable with each new sensation, constantly checking in with you to make sure you were okay.

“You’re doing great”, he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. “Just keep breathing and relax as much as you can”.

As Jensen’s finger moved with practiced care, the initial tension in your body began to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of connection and trust.

“How does it feel now?”, he asked softly.

“It’s getting better”, you whispered, your voice still trembling slightly but now with a mix of anticipation and pleasure.

“Good”, Jensen replied, his tone filled with warmth and reassurance. “Just let me know if you need me to stop, okay?”.

Jensen kept his movements gentle and deliberate, making sure you were comfortable and ready. Slowly, he withdrew his finger, ensuring you were eased into the next step.

“Stay relaxed, just like that”, he murmured, pressing another soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’m going to get ready now”.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the sensation of Jensen’s hands moving away and the cool air against your skin. You could feel him shifting behind you as he reached for the lube again. He squeezed a generous amount onto his hand, making sure his fingers were well-coated.

He began to coat his hard, swollen dick with the lube, ensuring every inch was slick and ready. The sound of him preparing sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. Jensen took his time, his movements precise and patient.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“I’m okay”, you whispered back, your voice steady but tinged with anticipation.

Jensen nodded, though you couldn’t see it. You could feel the shift in the bed as he positioned himself behind you, his presence comforting and reassuring. He placed one hand gently on your hips, his touch warm and grounding.

“Just keep breathing”, he reminded you, his voice a soothing murmur. “I’m going to go slow. If you need me to stop at any point, just say so”.

You nodded, taking another deep breath. You felt Jensen’s hand move between your bodies, guiding himself to your entrance. The tip of his slick, lubricated dick pressed gently against you, the sensation both strange and exhilarating.

“Here we go”, Jensen whispered, his voice filled with both anticipation and care.

He began to push gently, his movements slow and controlled. The first inch was enough to make you gasp strained, your hands gripping the sheets as you whimpered. Jensen immediately paused, his concern evident in his touch.

“You good?”, he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine worry.

You took a shaky breath, nodding slightly. “Yeah, it’s just… a lot”, you admitted, your voice trembling.

Jensen pressed a soothing kiss to your shoulder, his hands gently rubbing your hips. “We can stop if it’s too much”, he reminded you, his voice calm and reassuring.

“No, I want to keep going”, you whispered, your voice filled with determination. “Just… go slow”.

Jensen nodded, his hands still gently massaging your hips. “Okay”, he murmured. “We’ll take it nice and slow”.

He inched forward, each movement deliberate and cautious. He groaned softly, the strain evident in his voice as he adjusted to the tightness. The sensation was intense for both of you, your muscles clenching tightly around him.

“Almost there”, he whispered, his breath warm against your shoulder.

You focused on your breathing, trying to relax your muscles and ease the tension. Jensen’s hand remained steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you. Slowly, he continued to push forward until he was fully buried inside you.

The fullness was overwhelming, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps as you tried to adjust. Your muscles clenched so hard around him that it was almost painful for both of you. Jensen paused, his hands soothingly caressing your skin.

Jensen kept kissing your shoulder, his lips soft and reassuring against your skin. “You’re doing great”, he whispered between kisses, his voice a soothing balm against the intensity. His hands continued their gentle caresses, moving in slow, comforting patterns.

“You’ve got this”, he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Just breathe. I’m right here with you”.

You took another deep breath, trying to relax your body and ease the tension. Slowly, the tightness in your muscles began to lessen, the initial discomfort giving way to a more manageable sensation. Jensen’s presence, his touch, and his words all worked together to help you feel safe and cared for.

“How does it feel now?”, he asked softly.

“Still intense, but better”, you whispered, your voice steadier.

Jensen nodded. “We’ll go at your pace”, he promised. “There’s no rush”.

Gradually, as you continued to breathe deeply and focus on relaxing, the sensation became more comfortable

“You think you’re ready for me to start moving?”, Jensen asked softly, his voice filled with gentle concern and encouragement.

You nodded slightly, feeling a mix of anticipation and readiness. “Yes”, you whispered, your voice steadier now. “I think I’m ready”.

Jensen pressed one last kiss to your shoulder. “Alright, just let me know if you need me to stop or slow down”, he murmured.

You nodded, bracing yourself for the next sensation. Jensen slowly began to pull out a few inches, the movement causing you to gasp. Little tears formed in the corners of your eyes, which he couldn’t see since his face was pressed into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

The sensation was a mix of pleasure and an intensity that bordered on discomfort, but you focused on Jensen’s steady, reassuring presence. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the new feeling, his hands gently massaging your hips.

“You’re doing great”, he whispered against your neck, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement.

You took another deep breath, trying to relax as Jensen began to move again. He slowly pushed back in, the sensation intense but more familiar now. Each movement was deliberate and controlled, giving you time to adjust and find comfort in the rhythm.

Jensen continued to move in and out slowly, his pace unhurried and careful. He pulled back a few inches and then gently pushed forward, his touch constant and reassuring. With each slow thrust, the initial intensity began to transform into a deeper, more pleasurable sensation.

“Is this okay?”, he asked softly.

You nodded, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Yes”, you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

As he continued to move slowly within you, the sensation became more comfortable, each thrust bringing a mix of pleasure and connection. Jensen’s touch remained gentle and patient, his focus entirely on ensuring your comfort and enjoyment.

The slow, intimate rhythm allowed you both to fully experience the connection between you, deepening your bond with each movement.

“You feel amazing”, Jensen whispered against your neck, his voice filled with awe and affection.

You moaned softly, the pleasure and intimacy of the moment overwhelming in the best way possible.

His breath was warm against your neck, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through your back.

Each gentle thrust brought a new wave of sensation, the pleasure building gradually and beautifully.

Jensen’s hands roamed your body with care, one hand slipping to your front to gently caress your stomach, providing a steady anchor. His other hand continued to support your hips, guiding your movements and maintaining the connection between you.

“You think you can come like this?”, he murmured against your neck.

You shook your head slightly, the strain evident in your expression. “I don’t think so”, you whispered back, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Jensen was already close, his movements becoming slightly more urgent, but he was determined to ensure your pleasure.

“Can you touch yourself?”, he asked with a hint of urgency. But you were too focused on not giving in to the intense pressure, and once again, you shook your head, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Alright”, he murmured, his voice filled with determination. “Let me take care of you”,

With gentle care, Jensen shifted slightly, adjusting his position to reach in front of you. His fingers found your most sensitive spot, and he began to touch you in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The added stimulation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you moaned softly, your hands gripping the sheets for support.

“Good?”, he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“So good”, you gasped, the pleasure building rapidly under his skilled touch.

Jensen’s thrusts became deeper and harder, each one knocking the air out of your lungs. The intensity of his movements left you barely able to breathe, but with his fingers expertly working your clit, you were lost in the overwhelming sensation. If he weren’t touching you there, you might have told him it was too much and that he needed to stop. But the pleasure was consuming, driving you to the brink.

Jensen’s teeth grazed your shoulder lightly, the mix of pain and pleasure making you shiver. His hand moved faster, fingers pressing more insistently against your clit as his thrusts grew even more intense. The combination of sensations was almost too much to bear, but in the best possible way.

“Jensen”, you gasped, your voice barely more than a breath. “I’m so close”.

“Me too”, he groaned against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. “Hold on, baby. Let’s come together”.

His words and the relentless pace of his thrusts pushed you over the edge. The pleasure exploded within you, your body convulsing around him as you came with a force that left you trembling. Jensen’s movements became erratic as he followed you into release, his own climax crashing over him with a guttural moan.

Jensen’s arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as he rode out his own pleasure. The intensity of the moment left you both breathless, hearts pounding in sync.

After a moment of basking in the afterglow, Jensen carefully began to pull out, his movements slow and deliberate to ensure your comfort. As he withdrew his dick from your ass, you couldn’t help but let out one last whimper, the sensation strange and a bit uncomfortable. You grimaced slightly, the odd feeling lingering for a moment.

Jensen immediately noticed your reaction and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his hands gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. “You did so well”, he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and admiration. “I’m so proud of you”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “That was… intense”, you admitted, your voice still a bit shaky.

Your hand instinctively found its way to your ass, ensuring nothing leaked or was injured. Jensen noticed and chuckled softly, pressing one last kiss to your shoulder before falling back onto his back. His grin was warm and reassuring. “You don’t need to worry”, he said, his voice filled with gentle amusement. “I told you, I know what I’m doing. I didn’t hurt you”.

Your hand still resting against your back. The sensation was strange but not painful, and Jensen’s confidence helped ease your concerns.

Jensen reached over and gently moved your hand away, replacing it with his own. “See? All good”, he murmured, his fingers lightly caressing your skin. “You’re perfect”.

You carefully got up from the bed, feeling the slight soreness from your recent activities. With a small, shy smile, you quickly walked into the bathroom, eager to clean yourself up and ensure everything was really okay.

As you turned on the bathroom light and began to freshen up, you heard Jensen’s voice calling out from the bedroom, “If you need any help, just say so!”.

His tone was filled with a mix of concern and playful reassurance. You chuckled softly, appreciating his attentiveness. “Thanks, but I think I’ve got it”, you replied, feeling a little more at ease.

You took your time in the bathroom, making sure to be thorough. The warm water and gentle soap were soothing, helping to wash away any lingering discomfort. After a few moments, you felt much better and more comfortable.

Wrapping a soft towel around yourself, you returned to the bedroom, feeling a sense of calm and relaxation. Jensen was lying back on the bed, his eyes following you as you walked back to him. He smiled warmly, patting the spot next to him.

“All good?”, he asked, his voice soft and filled with genuine care.

“All good”, you confirmed, climbing back into bed and snuggling up next to him.

With a tender kiss to your hair, Jensen held you close as you settled back into bed. The warmth of his embrace and the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear soon lulled you into a state of deep relaxation. Wrapped in each other's arms, the events of the evening melted into a peaceful intimacy.

You felt Jensen's steady breath against your neck as sleep gently washed over both of you.

———————————

A/N: Well, that was a long one. Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 19

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles the boys #his true fate

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teatreeoilll · 11 months ago

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Give it Back - Gojo Satoru X Reader

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w/c - 0.6k content - fem!reader, mentions of drinking, kissing, hidden inventory trio being a lil drunk and silly at a party outside of Jujutsu High, first kiss, drabble

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2006

As Geto playfully twisted the empty beer bottle between his fingers, you briefly recall how, no less than half an hour ago, he scoffed at the thing when someone held it to his face - proposing a game of truth or dare.

"Spin the bottle? What are we, twelve?"

As the game started, the cozy circle you were sitting in expanded quickly, taking up most of the space of the living room. You groaned at the sight of another couple of students pressing their lips together, sloppily intertwining their drunken tongues to the sound of lewd cheers and woos.

While you weren't eager to join the game, only looking for a place to sit and let your drunkness subside, you found yourself squashed between a stranger and Gojo's lanky limbs. "Move a little, won't you?" You slur, trying to ward off the nausea while watching a dot of light flicker on the spinning bottle's surface. The bottle halts, its now aggressive-looking bottleneck pointing straight at you, with Geto's intoxicated smirk on the opposite end. "Truth or dare?" Geto beams in your direction, his mind already preoccupied with all the devious things he could ask you to do in front of the group. "Truth," you sigh, eliciting the group's displeasure over the music. "Pick dare, coward," someone mocks, triggering your drunken pride.

"Alright then, dare." "Kiss the person on your left." Geto muses. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. It's not that you've deliberately dodged from having your first kiss until now. But still, after surviving so long without one, shouldn't this moment be a touch more significant? "Can't you just dare me to eat something gross, Suguru?" you chastise, utterly unaware that on the left, an angry pink blush flushes Gojo's face. "It isn't such a bad dare," Gojo whispers, leaning in as soon as you turn to him in confusion. Without missing a beat, he softly pressed his lips against yours, leaving the crowd in stunned silence. You detach yourself from him with a soft grunt, using a shaking hand to push him away. The silence in the room persists as you step out to find solace on the porch, fixating on the raindrops cascading onto the driveway. "Satoru, you idiot." Shoko scolded sharply, her voice cutting the air from her spot near Geto, "That was her first kiss." His eyes widened in response, his hand instinctively shooting out to shove himself away from his spot on the floor.

- "I'm sorry." Gojo leans on the porch rail beside you, "I thought you were being shy." He lied, too proud to admit that the possibility of you not wanting to kiss him troubled his drunken mind. "You can't both apologize and imply you did nothing wrong, Satoru." "Come on, if that were true we wouldn't have politics." His attempt to lighten the mood was met with your displeased scoff. "I'm sorry," He utters again, a hint of sincerity seeping through, "How can I make it better?" You steady your gaze back to the rain-soaked driveway, taking a moment to contemplate before delivering the verdict, "You can give it back." "Huh?" He blurts as you grab the collar of his white shirt, yanking him closer to crash your lips onto his. Still recovering from the surprise, he cups your face with his hands, catching a quick breath before parting your lips with his tongue. "It's mine now," you say triumphantly, a mischievous smile grazing your lips as you watch Gojo fix his now-ruffled hair, "I'm freezing; I'm going in." He lets out a small chuckle as you approach the entrance, only to grab your face with long, skilled fingers, planting a chaste peck on your lips. "'S mine again," He declares, rushing to the door before you, "Come and get it."

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen X reader #jjk x you #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru

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fen-luciel · 4 months ago

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The mistakes of a acolyte

Chapters

Summary: You are pregnant with Qimir's child and the universe is not big enough to hide you from him.

I cleared my throat before carefully deciding what to say to him.

"I wanted to abort." The silence that followed this statement was deafening. It was clear that Yord did not expect it.

"I lied. Qimir always wanted bonds. A family, but I had other plans, I wanted..." I looked at his clothes for a moment, a lump in my throat stopped me from saying something compromising.

"I wanted to earn more, travel the world. When I found out the news, I took my things and left to get rid of it... but... I couldn't do it."

I took a deep breath as my lip started to tremble. "That little time alone made me appreciate-" *that freedom* "that moment of peace from my work. And I realized that I really wanted it."

I took the opportunity to eat another huge piece of cake and gain a few seconds to regain my composure.

"But when I was about to go back... I didn't have the courage to face him."

*A half lie*

*A half-truth*

The urge to get up and lock myself in the bedroom was strong, I felt judged, dirty...

Yord took my hand in his and I looked at him with my heart in my throat.

"It's your life, Sabrina. There's nothing wrong with anything you've done. You followed your heart."

I pressed my lips together holding back a smile, but my heart was pounding, deep down I had hidden from everyone and everything for five months, inventing lies, pretending to be fine to avoid as many questions as possible, after all, how many couples broke up every day in the galaxy? A single mother wanting a new life is common to see.

But I needed to vent. What friends did I have after I decided what to do with my life? I had been traveling from planet to planet for years, then I met Qimir and clung to him with my nails and teeth without realizing that he was much more dangerous than I thought.

What irony. Here. In the house where I had hidden. To be listened to by a Jedi.

"You tell me I did well to follow my heart? Ironic, don't you think?" I said with tearful eyes, but for the first time, my heart felt lighter in my chest.

He gave me a gentle smile, "A Jedi is not denied the possibility of feeling something. Only to... do it in a clear-headed manner."

I raised an eyebrow while continuing to smile. "Oh, really? From what I remember, it was the Sith who talked about love, passion..." "-hate. Fear." He gently squeezed my hand. "The Sith are at war with others and with themselves, Qimir is the proof of that."

The irritation hit me again. "What does a Jedi know about the Sith?" He looked at me confused. "Well, not much, Sol mentioned something to me, but what I saw with my own eyes was enough to understand that they are evil. Without honor. Or code."

I pulled my hand away from his, pretending to adjust my shirt to gain a few inches from him. "If we were to talk about honor, where is it in taking children from their families and putting them in danger?" My tone was neutral, but it was a blatant provocation.

"Well, they aren't forced, it's a choice-" "What choice? Aren't they taken as children? How much do they actually understand the consequence of their choice? Think about it. Maybe somewhere in the galaxy, you have an older sister or brother who has never forgotten you. Who would want to find you but can't. Parents who miss you." There was almost a wheeze in my tone. I was irritated. Was Yord the blind one, or was it only me who saw the problem?

He leaned back in his chair before giving me a nervous smile. "You talk as if you hate the Jedi. I understand your point, but the Order gives you knowledge, peace. It makes you better and teaches you to use the Force, having it means having a responsibility. Especially for those around you."

I mimicked his pose on the chair but with my arms crossed under my chest. "Peace? But if half of your team has been killed. Wasn't it the Order that sent you there?"

At that point, Yord gave me an irritated look. "I would like to remind you that it was your ex who killed them." At that point, the air was tense, and since the move had been made, it was worth throwing out the bait.

"I still haven't been told why, anyway. Now you chase smugglers? I thought that was the police's job." He rolled his eyes in response.

"Technically, we weren't expecting him. We were chasing a suspected Jedi assassin, it was obvious that someone had trained her. And when we were on the verge of arresting her, he showed up too."

The news surprised me, but I didn't let it show. Had he found a acolyte? Had he replaced me? It can't be, he told me he was looking for me... but also that he was continuing the plan.

"Ah... well, that doesn't change the subject" I said, trying to change the point.

"You say you are peacekeepers, but you train children and make them fight like some kind of religious police. They might as well join the army when they're old enough." He sighed before giving me an irritated smile. "As I said, the Order helps teach you to control the Force. Such great power requires discipline." I sighed in response. "I know terrible people without an ounce of power of any kind. It's not discipline that is needed. Sometimes people are just born evil."

The silence that followed wasn't embarrassing, more... tense. Neither of us seemed irritated as much as trying to be understood, and it was obvious that Yord was really thinking about what I had said.

"I don't deny it. But the dark side can corrupt the mind, those who follow this path know what they are getting into and must be stopped." I pressed my lips together slightly before replying quickly. "And what do you know about the dark side?"

He chuckled. "Because you know? Or about the Force in general?"

I exhaled deeply before opening my mouth to respond sharply, but the sound of the doorbell interrupted me. We both turned to the door, and Yord quickly got off the chair.

"It must be Master Sol, I told him I would bring you something for the trouble."

I took advantage of the moment to regain a normal heartbeat, the conversation had degenerated, and I had gotten heated. I couldn't do the same in front of Sol, it was obvious he had much more experience and would notice if I said something compromising or tried to extract some information from him.

I had wasted the opportunity.

Yord opened the door, but on the threshold, Sol was not alone, a young girl of an alien race I didn't recognize was behind him, with fair skin and particular marks on her face, she looked very young. The braid showed her role as a padawan.

"Master Sol... and..." I said, getting up from the chair to join them. "Dear, good morning, I hope you're better after yesterday." I nodded as he affectionately shook my hands with his usual gentle smile.

Then moving aside, he placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "This is my padawan, Jecki." We shook hands, and she gave me a small bow with her head and a smile. "Nice to meet you and... congratulations" she added, nodding to my belly.

I smiled at her. She reminded me a lot of myself at her age.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Sabrina. How young you are, may I ask how old you are?"

"Sixteen." I gave a light huff. "Really? I would have guessed thirteen, no offense, but you look very young." She shrugged. "I'll take it as a compliment."

"Well, I'd say let's go. If it's not a problem, Sabrina, we were thinking of taking you to our ship where we have some of Qimir's things that we brought here after searching his hideout." I looked at them confused, hideout? Which one of the many? Some surely still had my traces.

"Which one, if I may ask?" I said in the corridor while closing my front door behind me. "Which one? You know he has more than one?" Yord asked behind me, and I mentally slapped myself for the slip.

"Well, as I told you, we smuggled together. We had common places where we hid the goods or rested between one trip and another. Even if he had places where he didn't let me come" I tried to contain the mistake as best as I could, and it seemed to have convinced them.

In the corridor and then in the elevator, the discomfort of being surrounded by so many non-hostile Jedi was strange, bringing back old memories.

"A cave on a mostly uninhabited planet, his apprentice told us about it even though she didn't know much else, never having entered it." I held back the instinct to roll my eyes, she hadn't wasted time blabbering everything. Even if it was possible they had read her mind against her will. Which wouldn't have surprised me in the case.

"No, I've never even heard of it." We left the elevator to start walking along the city streets, people gave us not-so-subtle glances, it wasn't often to see Jedi around here, especially all together, it was obvious they attracted attention, on them as well as on me.

I had to end this story as soon as possible, I had to get out of here as soon as this mess was resolved, I would leave traces of my passage unconditionally now, but it was better to move.

"If I may ask, Sabrina, did you know this apprentice of Qimir? A certain Mae?"

Jecki asked, and I looked at her with a grimace on my face, "Never heard of her" and I was being honest. He must have met her in these months away, it didn't take him long to find another Force-sensitive person ready to join the dark side.

Sure, it was true that more and more members of the order felt discouraged by the council's actions and saw the consequences of these actions with their own eyes, but meeting after leaving the order and recognizing each other was another matter. Also because many preferred to keep a low profile and shut themselves off from the Force or live a life of solitude truly seeking peace.

"Let's hope she wasn't also a lover" I joked, making Yord beside me smile. "The two didn't seem to have that kind of intimacy, believe me, he tried to kill her in that forest." Forest? Perhaps like the one I had seen when I connected in the Force with him. He could still be hiding there, or maybe the Force was projecting the last place he used his power, in any case, for now, they didn't seem to know where he was hiding.

The walk to their ship wasn't particularly long, and luckily I was rested enough not to stress over the city's rocky terrain, which mostly maintained a natural environment rather than being lacquered with metal for those who preferred life on the outskirts, away from the chaos of big cities. The same reason why I decided to come here, both to stay away from big cities where people might recognize me and to be closer to a natural environment but not particularly dangerous.

The ship they arrived on wasn't a new model, in fact, it must have been at least a decade old, I had handled enough parts to recognize these things at a glance and... it brought back many memories.

Inside, the place was tidy but almost felt homey, strange considering who the owners were, I had seen more barren ones. "Nice place" I said casually, sitting around the table in a corner, followed by them. "Thanks, Jecki and I tried to make it more welcoming over time" Sol took a box and placed it on the table in front of me "Here are the items we recovered from his hideout, we hope you can recognize something and maybe give us the location of those places you mentioned. Honestly, you could be accused of several crimes, none we can prove or accuse you of here, but we hope this cooperation can also serve as a plea bargain if you ever want to return to the inner rim, I promise we will remove every trace from the databases. Even though you had a false photo in all recorded crimes"

There was a moment of silence as Sol and I looked each other in the eyes, obviously he had looked for me in the records, fortunately over the years I had changed my last name and put a false photo in the official databases. The best way to stay hidden was to be right under their nose but with some logical discrepancies in between. No one found it strange that I had a fake photo in the various registered documents and then saved, that I myself had placed under minor crimes was the trick. At that point, the Jedi were too arrogant to believe someone was pulling one over on them and saw such actions more as whims than real problems.

Arrogance would be their downfall.

"Well, it wouldn't be bad, even though I still prefer the outskirts" I joked, not showing intimidation. "Anyway, I already said I would cooperate, so it wouldn't change anything for me, even though it would be handy for some transports," I answered.

Opening the box, there weren't many things inside, well placed but at a glance, nothing compromising for me.

Rolled up was one of his robes, which I took after a moment of hesitation, the fabric was familiar under my fingers, my body remembered well the rough sensation, my memories full of soft and warm lights while being pressed against some surface, legs spread and his chest against my back, air struggling to fill my lungs as I begged him to-

"Is everything okay, Sabrina?" It was Jecki's voice that woke me from the flow of thoughts, she was giving me an attentive look, focused as if she was trying to read my mind. "Yes, sorry, it just reminded me of something silly" I grimaced apologetically and placed the robes on the table.

Another thing I found was a small pouch, when I opened it, I recognized some poisonous herbs "Since you smuggled together, we wondered if maybe you had some common contact we could call to lure him into a trap" Sol hypothesized, looking at me intently. I shook my head, "Impossible, contacts go one way only to avoid traps and even if for some reason you found someone in the ring, no one would ever tell you anything. I think you know better than I do that there are different levels of smuggling, Qimir and I always frequented the high end, i know for you our work is just illegal but I can assure you it's not just criminals moving valuable things. And they pay you enough to keep quiet, not to mention the ruined career if it were found out you're a spy. No one would risk a bounty on their head" I also placed the pouch down.

I immediately recognized the piece of stone placed to one side. "Cortosis" I picked it up to give it a confused look "What do you hope to learn from me about this?"

"Qimir had a bracelet and a helmet with this material, we found the cave full of it, so we know where he got it, but maybe you know who forged it for him, it could help us find him," Sol smiled.

"Actually... I made those for him" they all looked confused before signaling me to continue. "Well yes... I've always liked shaping things. Maybe that's how the passion for smuggling was born, rare materials and the ability to mold them, i made the bracelet as a gift, the helmet he asked for" then I slipped a hand under my shirt collar, "And he made me this," i showed a chain around my neck from which hung a piece of the roughly worked metal.

"He wanted to give me a gift, but he wasn't very good, he told me to always keep it for protection... I didn't have the heart to throw it away" I quickly showed the stone before tucking it back under my shirt, showing it was convenient, if they wondered why they couldn't read my mind, I could use it as an indirect excuse.

"Well, this path is also a dead end then. I guess he brought you the material the first time" Yord nodded "It was for a client technically, but he took more because he said it was useful."

"This stuff is useless, I figured it wouldn't lead anywhere," Yord sighed irritably before getting up and pacing the room "We still have the places Sabrina mentioned" Jecki intervened, looking at me.

"Yes well... there's only one problem. I had a map of those places. Hidden in the only hideout we actually used as a secondary home, we didn't record the positions or carry it for safety. It would be hard for me to describe where it is even telling you the planet or the best landing zone" it was useless to lie about it, they knew they existed, saying I didn't remember or couldn't take them there would have been ridiculous.

Sol looked at the others before slowly approaching the table in front of me "I realize we're asking a lot, but could you take us there? It would be so helpful" he said gently, pressing his lips into a tense line.

I looked at my hands, tense, a discomfort beginning to burn my insides again.

"And if he's there?" I asked in a faint voice. But above all, if they had the map, they would ambush him, we often used those hideouts, now more than ever since they knew who he was. I would betray him, I would betray the cause. But what could I do? Say I'd see them tomorrow and disappear? Could I do it? And where would I go anyway? Maybe I should take advantage of the map and get there before Qimir if he hadn't already passed through, sure I risked meeting him there alone or finding nothing and having Jedi hunting me.

But I could take other resources, when I escaped months ago I avoided going there precisely because I imagined it would be the first place he would follow me, but now I could find a clear path and maybe other credits to use to disappear definitively, maybe helped by a bounty hunter...

"We will never let him hurt you" Yord answered with a determined look. But I could only scoff at him, "But you said yourself he slaughtered you. No offense but I have a hard time trusting" he clearly didn't expect my answer and the irritated look from the other two towards Yord made me understand they weren't happy, I can't say if because I knew what had happened or just that he had a big mouth.

"I... need to think about it."

#qimir #the acolyte #qimir x reader #qimir x oc #star wars #yord fandar #jecki lon

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