#i did find someone who made me happy and she left

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

Can I request Anthony Bridgeton angst marrying a commoner and then having a fight with her because she did something society would find wrong or something that is out of class. With a happy ending

Baby Hotline Part I (Anthony Bridgerton x Fem! Reader)

Part I

Author's note: Hiya, so I was originally going to make this a one-shot with smut in the end, but I changed my mind and decided to make this a series. Don't worry! There will be smut just follow up with the series or parts, and it'll be there

Summary: As you wed into the Bridgertons, you can help but feel how you don't belong there. So you try to fit in but only to make things worse. Anthony has never raised his voice before, and you can't help but fall back into place as the dutiful wife of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.

Warning(s): Angst, yelling, Anthony doesn't realize what damage he had caused, commer! Reader, Violet is a good mother, family drama

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

You’d thought marrying Anthony Bridgerton would be the answer to your dreams. A grand wedding, promises of a beautiful future, and stepping into the prestigious Bridgerton family. But as the days passed, a quiet dread began to settle in. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t belong. The house was too grand, the customs too foreign, and the expectations weighed heavy on your shoulders. Even Violet, with all her kindness, carried a composed presence that made you feel out of place, like a commoner trying to wear the crown of a queen.

Today, though, things were different. Anthony had been distant, distracted, and tense. You tried to keep up with the roles expected of you—smiling at dinners, speaking in that carefully measured tone—but it all seemed wrong. The weight of it all finally came crashing down at dinner.

Anthony’s jaw clenched as he glared at you from across the table. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice, though restrained, carried a fury you’d never heard from him before.

You blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“This afternoon. At the garden party. You spoke about... politics in front of Lady Danbury and the others. And then—" he paused, eyes narrowing—"you mentioned working before we were married. Do you have any idea how improper that was?”

“I... I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t!” he snapped, his voice rising. “You’re not supposed to think about things like that. You’re supposed to represent this family with dignity.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. This wasn’t the man you had married, the one who looked at you with adoration, the one who promised that he loved you for who you were. You felt a sharp sting in your chest as his words echoed in your mind.

“I thought you married me because you loved me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Not because I could fit into this world.”

Anthony’s face softened for a moment, but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. “I do love you, but you can’t go around embarrassing us. You need to... understand your place.”

Your place. The words stung like a slap to the face. You couldn’t breathe for a moment as they settled into your bones, each syllable weighing down the space between you. You had married into a world that wasn’t yours, and now you were expected to mold yourself into something you weren’t. Someone you weren’t.

“I can’t—” Your voice broke as you stood, pushing your chair back abruptly. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Anthony’s expression hardened again, though there was a flicker of regret in his eyes. “Then try harder,” he said quietly.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, tears burning in your eyes as you left the dining room. The heavy wooden doors seemed to close in slow motion behind you, cutting off the last glimpse of Anthony’s conflicted expression. You didn’t wait for an apology; you didn’t expect one. It felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs, and all you could do was escape.

The dim light of the study was a strange comfort. You sank into a chair, pulling your knees to your chest as the sobs finally broke free. You’d tried to fit in. You’d tried to be the perfect wife to Anthony, but nothing you did ever seemed to be enough. The feeling of inadequacy clawed at your heart. You could still hear his voice, his disappointment ringing in your ears.

“Am I not enough?” you whispered to yourself, barely audible in the quiet of the room.

A knock startled you, and before you could compose yourself, Violet stepped in. She took one look at your tear-streaked face and the way you were curled up in the chair, and her expression softened. She crossed the room, sitting beside you.

“Anthony can be... difficult,” she said gently, her voice holding the warmth of understanding. “He’s under a great deal of pressure, and sometimes... he doesn’t realize the impact of his words.”

“He’s ashamed of me,” you choked out, your voice barely holding together.

Violet’s hand reached out, resting on yours. “He’s not ashamed of you. He’s just... afraid. Afraid of what society might think. But that doesn’t make it right.” She paused for a moment, her voice dropping lower. “You are more than enough, dear. More than he deserves.”

The sobs started again, but this time they were less jagged, less painful. Violet stayed beside you, her presence a small comfort in the storm of emotions swirling inside. You didn’t say anything more, but the weight of her words settled in your heart.

Hours later, when the house had gone quiet, Anthony found you. He stood in the doorway of the study, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hall.

“I... I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice sounding smaller than before. “I never should have spoken to you like that.”

You didn’t respond at first, your back still turned to him. The tension between you was palpable.

“I was wrong,” he continued, stepping closer. “I love you, and I don’t care what society thinks. I should never have made you feel like you didn’t belong.”

Slowly, you turned to face him, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. His eyes were filled with remorse, and it wasn’t the forced apology of someone who was simply trying to make amends. It was genuine, a raw admission of his own failings.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

The silence between you lingered for a moment before you finally spoke. “I just want to be enough for you.”

Anthony closed the distance between you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you. “You are. You always have been. And I promise... I’ll never make you feel otherwise again.”

You clung to him, letting the last of your tears fall. This was your world now, but maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

The apology had hung in the air for days, lingering like a fragile thread between you and Anthony. Though he had embraced you that night, something inside you couldn’t fully forgive him—at least, not yet. His words had cut too deep, the reminder of how out of place you felt still stinging. And though Anthony tried to make amends, each attempt only seemed to widen the chasm growing between you.

Every morning, Anthony would ask if you wanted to attend some lavish event: a ball, a dinner party, some high-society affair that promised to distract from the unease that now filled your marriage. Each time, you declined.

“No, I don’t feel up to it tonight,” you would say, offering a polite smile that never quite reached your eyes.

At first, Anthony’s brow would furrow, confusion clouding his face. But as the days turned to weeks, he began to accept your refusals in silence, though the frustration was clear in the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched.

Tonight was no different.

“You’ll come with me to Lady Cowper’s ball, won’t you?” Anthony asked, his voice light with hope as he approached your place by the window. The evening sun cast a golden hue across the room, making everything seem softer, more delicate than it felt.

“I... I think I’ll stay here tonight,” you replied, your tone careful, avoiding his gaze. You could sense the disappointment in the air before he even spoke.

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’ve stayed here every night this week. People are starting to talk. They’ll wonder why we’re never seen together.”

You glanced up at him, your heart sinking. There it was again—the weight of society, the expectations, the image you were supposed to uphold. “Let them wonder,” you muttered, looking back out the window.

“Y/N, I’m trying,” he said softly, stepping closer, his voice pleading. “I know I hurt you. I know things haven’t been easy, but I’m doing everything I can to make it right. The balls, the events—they’re not just about appearances. They’re about spending time with you, showing you that I care.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Part of you wanted to believe him, to let the words sink in and take root in your heart. But another part—the part still raw from his outburst, still aching from the realization that you were living in a world that didn’t want you—couldn’t accept it. Not yet.

“I don’t want to be paraded around, Anthony,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to be some perfect wife for society to gawk at.”

Anthony’s expression faltered, the confidence he usually exuded crumbling at the edges. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” you asked, turning to face him fully for the first time. “Every event, every ball—it’s all about showing everyone that we’re the perfect couple, that I’m some ideal Viscountess. But I’m not, Anthony. I’m not what they expect me to be, and I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

His face softened, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “You don’t have to pretend,” he said quietly. “Not with me. I’m not asking you to be perfect.”

“But you are,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You might not realize it, but you are.”

The days continued to pass, each one feeling heavier than the last. Anthony tried everything to make it up to you—gifts, lavish dinners at home, even time spent walking together in the garden, trying to rekindle the closeness you once shared. But every time you looked at him, you couldn’t shake the memory of that night—the way his words had sliced through your heart, the way he had made you feel like you didn’t belong.

One evening, as you sat alone in the study, staring blankly at a book you weren’t really reading, Anthony appeared at the doorway. He hesitated before speaking, his voice soft, almost uncertain. “Y/N... would you reconsider Lady Bridgerton’s soirée tomorrow? It’s just family. No grand event, no crowd of strangers.”

You turned to look at him, a tired smile tugging at your lips. He was trying, and you knew that. But it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt that lingered between you. “I think I’ll pass.”

Anthony exhaled sharply, frustration finally breaking through the calm facade he had been trying to maintain. “You can’t just hide away forever.”

“I’m not hiding,” you countered, though your voice lacked conviction. “I’m... I’m just not ready.”

“Not ready for what?” His voice rose, but not in anger—in desperation. “For us? For this marriage? Because that’s what it feels like.”

Your heart clenched. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him. You did. But the life you had married into, the pressure of fitting into this world—it was suffocating. And though Anthony had apologized, the scars from that night ran deep. Too deep to heal so quickly.

“I need time,” you said quietly, standing from your chair and walking toward the window. “I need time to figure out who I am in all of this. And I need you to understand that.”

Anthony’s shoulders slumped, defeat washing over his features. He wanted to fix it. You could see it in his eyes—the desperation, the need to make things right. But he didn’t know how.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice breaking slightly. “I love you. I need you to know that.”

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes as his words echoed in the quiet room. “I know,” you whispered. “But love isn’t always enough.”

There was a long, painful silence between you, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on your chest. You wished things could go back to the way they were before—when you and Anthony were happy, when you felt like you belonged in his world. But the truth was, things had changed. And no matter how much Anthony tried to make up for it, the wound remained.

Finally, Anthony stepped back, his voice barely audible as he spoke. “I’ll give you time. As much as you need.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving you alone once again in the quiet of the study. You stood there, staring out the window at the setting sun, wondering if time would ever be enough to heal what had been broken.

Days stretched into weeks. You and Anthony fell into a quiet, uncomfortable routine. He would ask you to accompany him to various social events, and you would politely decline each time. His attempts to bridge the growing distance between you became less frequent, replaced by a heavy silence that lingered in the house. You knew he was hurting, but so were you. And neither of you seemed capable of saying what needed to be said.

One evening, after another quiet dinner where neither of you had much to say, Anthony stood abruptly from the table. His chair scraped against the floor, and the sound startled you from your thoughts.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he said, his voice low but filled with an unmistakable tension.

You looked up at him, your chest tightening. “Do what?”

“This... this distance,” he gestured between you. “This silence. You refuse to come to any events. You won’t talk to me about what’s really going on. I feel like I’m losing you, Y/N.”

His words hit you hard, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond immediately. You could feel the hurt in his voice, the desperation. He loved you, you knew that. But something inside you wouldn’t let go of the pain he had caused. The feeling of not being enough, of being an outsider in his world, still clung to you.

“I’m still here,” you finally said, though your voice was soft, almost too soft to be reassuring.

“Are you?” Anthony asked, his voice breaking slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

You didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong. A part of you had withdrawn, retreating to a safe distance where you didn’t have to face the uncomfortable truth of your marriage. You weren’t the perfect Viscountess. You didn’t belong in the circles Anthony moved in. And even though he had tried to apologize, tried to make things right, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were just pretending to be something you weren’t.

Anthony sighed heavily, pacing across the room. “Y/N, I don’t want to pressure you. But I don’t know how to fix this if you keep shutting me out.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the pain etched across his features. He was trying. You could see that. But it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“I’m not shutting you out,” you said quietly, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I’m just... I’m trying to figure out who I am in all of this. I need to know if I can really belong in this world.”

Anthony’s expression softened, and he stopped pacing, his gaze locking with yours. “You do belong. You’ve always belonged. I’ve never wanted anyone else but you.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like I’m constantly being judged, constantly being told that I don’t fit in. And that night... when you said those things, it made me feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Anthony stepped forward, closing the distance between you, his hands gently resting on your arms. “I was wrong. I was angry, and I lashed out. I should never have said those things. But you are enough. More than enough.”

You looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m trying to believe that, Anthony. But I don’t know how.”

He tilted your chin up gently, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Then let me help you. Let me show you that you’re more than enough. Not just for society or for my family, but for me. You’re the only person I want by my side.”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at your heart, but the fear of letting him in fully, of trusting that things would get better, still held you back.

“I need time,” you whispered, tears spilling over your cheeks. “I don’t know if I can just go back to how things were.”

Anthony nodded, his thumb brushing away your tears. “I’ll give you all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

A few days later, a letter arrived for you. It was from Eloise, one of the few Bridgertons who had always treated you like family, regardless of your status or background. The invitation was for an intimate gathering—a simple garden tea at the Bridgerton estate, nothing grand, no pressure, just family.

As you read the letter, something stirred inside you. This wasn’t a ball or a high-society event. It was just Eloise, Violet, and the rest of the family, inviting you to spend time with them. A part of you wanted to decline, like you had with all of Anthony’s invitations. But something stopped you. Maybe it was the casual tone of the letter, or the fact that you missed the warmth of Eloise’s company. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the realization that you couldn’t keep hiding forever.

That evening, as Anthony came home from work, you handed him the letter.

“What’s this?” he asked, glancing down at the familiar Bridgerton seal.

“An invitation,” you said, your voice steady. “Eloise is hosting a tea. I think... I think I’ll go.”

Anthony’s eyes lit up with surprise and hope. “You will?”

You nodded, unsure of what had shifted inside you but certain that it was time to take a small step forward. “It’s not a ball or anything grand. Just family.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Anthony said softly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You gave him a tentative smile in return, feeling the first flicker of something that resembled hope. You weren’t sure if this would fix everything, if you and Anthony could truly mend the broken pieces of your relationship. But for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were ready to try.

The day of the tea came, and as you dressed in a simple, yet elegant gown, you felt a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Anthony stood by your side as you both prepared to leave, his hand resting gently on the small of your back as you stepped out of the house together.

When you arrived at the Bridgerton estate, the familiar sight of the grand house brought back memories of happier times. Eloise greeted you with a warm smile, pulling you into an embrace as soon as you entered the garden. Violet was there as well, her kind eyes full of understanding as she welcomed you back into the fold.

The tea was simple, just as the invitation had promised. There were no expectations, no judgment. Just the family gathered together, chatting and laughing like they always had. For the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of peace.

As you sat beside Anthony, watching Eloise debate passionately with Colin about some trivial topic, you felt his hand gently squeeze yours. You turned to look at him, and for the first time in a long while, you saw hope reflected in his eyes.

Maybe things weren’t perfect. Maybe there was still a long road ahead. But sitting there, surrounded by the warmth of the Bridgerton family, you felt like you might finally be finding your place.

A few days after the tea at the Bridgerton estate, you found yourself wandering through Hyde Park, seeking a quiet moment to process everything that had happened recently. The autumn breeze brushed against your skin, and the leaves crunched softly beneath your shoes. It was a rare moment of peace amidst the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed you for weeks.

As you walked along the path, your thoughts swirling, you caught a glimpse of someone familiar in the distance. Portia Featherington. She was walking alone, a sight that surprised you. Portia was rarely seen without her daughters or some acquaintance by her side, always bustling through society’s events with an air of determination. Yet here she was, quiet and solitary, her usual bright colors muted in a more subdued dress.

A surge of curiosity gripped you, and before you knew it, your feet were carrying you toward her. You hadn’t spoken to Portia much, but something about seeing her alone, away from the noise of high society, made you wonder how she managed to navigate the same world that had been so difficult for you to fit into.

“Portia,” you called softly as you approached, hoping not to startle her.

She turned at the sound of your voice, her brows lifting slightly in surprise. “Y/N,” she said, her tone neutral but polite. “What a surprise to see you here. Are you enjoying the park?”

You nodded, though your mind was focused on something else. “Yes, I come here to think sometimes. I didn’t expect to see you walking alone.”

Portia smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Even I need some quiet moments away from the crowd, now and then.”

There was a pause, and you hesitated, wondering if you should speak your mind. But the question had been weighing on you for days, and seeing Portia now, looking so poised despite everything you knew she had been through, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Portia,” you began, your voice uncertain but steady. “How did you do it? How did you fit in with all of this, with society, despite the challenges? I’ve been struggling… and I thought maybe you could help me understand how you managed.”

Portia’s expression softened as she regarded you, her sharp eyes taking in your uncertainty. For a moment, she said nothing, simply considering your question. Then, with a small sigh, she motioned for you to walk with her, and you fell into step beside her.

“I won’t lie to you, Y/N,” Portia began, her voice carrying the weight of experience. “It wasn’t easy. This world—society—it’s unforgiving, especially for those of us who don’t naturally fit into its mold. I’ve faced my fair share of whispers behind my back, people judging me and my family. But I’ve learned that you can’t let them break you.”

You listened intently, surprised by her candor. Portia had always seemed so unshakable, so perfectly in control. To hear her admit to her struggles was a revelation.

“How did you get through it?” you asked quietly, the question hanging between you like a lifeline.

Portia’s eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “The small things,” she said simply. “I focused on the small things that kept me going. My daughters, for one. Everything I’ve done—every event I’ve attended, every decision I’ve made—it’s been for them. They are my strength, my reason to keep pushing forward. When everything else felt like it was falling apart, I reminded myself that they needed me. That I had to be strong for them.”

She paused, glancing at you, her gaze full of understanding. “I know it may seem like I’ve always had it together, but there were times when I felt like giving up. When I questioned if I truly belonged. But I realized that fitting in isn’t about becoming what others expect you to be. It’s about finding your own place within this world, and holding on to the people and things that matter most to you.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you. You had been so consumed by the idea of fitting into Anthony’s world, of becoming the perfect Viscountess, that you had lost sight of what truly mattered. Perhaps you didn’t need to conform to every expectation society had of you. Perhaps, like Portia, you could find your own way, as long as you held on to the things that gave you strength.

“What if… what if I’m not enough for Anthony?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability of the question startling even you.

Portia stopped walking for a moment, turning to face you fully. Her expression was calm but firm. “You are enough. And if Anthony doesn’t see that, then that is his failing, not yours. But from what I’ve observed, he loves you deeply. He’s just as lost in this as you are.”

Her words settled over you like a warm blanket, offering a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed. It was the first time you truly felt like someone understood what you were going through, and the fact that it came from Portia, someone you had always thought of as so different from yourself, made it all the more impactful.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your eyes meeting hers. “I needed to hear that.”

Portia gave you a small smile, the kind of smile that held years of wisdom and resilience. “We all need reminders sometimes. Remember, Y/N, you don’t have to face this world alone. Find your small things, the things that keep you going, and hold on to them.”

With that, Portia turned to continue her walk, and after a moment, you fell into step beside her once more. You didn’t speak much after that, but the silence between you was no longer uncomfortable. It was an understanding, a shared knowledge that no one was truly alone in their struggles.

As you walked through the park, you felt a quiet strength begin to bloom inside you. Maybe you didn’t have all the answers yet, but Portia’s words had given you a sense of direction, a reminder that you were enough, that you could find your place—not by trying to fit in, but by being true to yourself.

[perfectsunlight]

22 ⸺ SCARED OF MY GUITAR

warnings: angst, self doubt, infidelity, substance use, relationship strain, mental breakdown, emotional distress

word count: 7.5k

part of the series: LOGICAL

perfect, easy, so good to me

so why's there a pit in my gut in the shape of you?

kazuha couldn’t stop thinking about what yujin had said to her. did she really like her girlfriend? sure, sana was the perfect girlfriend. she was kind, thoughtful, and always there when kazuha needed her. they didn’t fight, didn’t argue over petty things. sana knew how to make her laugh, how to calm her down when her nerves got the best of her. 

she was the kind of partner anyone would dream of having—sweet, supportive, effortlessly beautiful.

yet, every time kazuha looked at her, a hollow sensation gnawed at her. a sensation she couldn’t quite explain. she hated it—hated that yujin’s question had lodged itself so deep in her mind. now, the younger girl was questioning everything she thought she wanted.

it was 3 in the morning and even in complete darkness, zuha could make out every detail on her girlfriend’s face. the soft rise and fall of sana’s chest, the gentle curve of her lips, the way her hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo. she looked peaceful, content—everything kazuha should have felt lying next to her. but instead, that same hollow sensation gnawed at her insides, leaving her restless while sana slept soundly beside her.

kazuha shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her. her thoughts raced, yujin’s voice playing on a loop in her mind. the question echoed and screamed, haunting her even now. she stared at the ceiling, trying to understand why something so perfect felt so wrong.

sana had never done anything but love her—truly, deeply, and without reservation. yet, every time kazuha thought about their future together, that gnawing doubt crept in. why wasn’t this enough? 

why wasn’t sana enough?

distract myself, say it's somethin' else

maybe i'm just overwhelmed, maybe i'm confused

she bit her lip, the taste of guilt bitter in her mouth. it wasn’t fair to the older girl. she deserved someone who didn’t feel this constant void, someone who didn’t have to question whether or not they were happy. kazuha wanted to be that person—wanted so badly to be the kind of girlfriend sana thought she was.

but lying in the dark, she knew she was far from it.

at first, kazuha thought maybe it was just a new sensation—something unfamiliar that would pass with time. maybe she was just overwhelmed by having such a seemingly perfect lover, someone who gave her everything she could have ever asked for. sana was the type of person who made even the mundane feel extraordinary. every day with her was filled with affection, warmth, and security. 

but that comfort soon became stifling.

kazuha tried to convince herself it was just the natural ebb and flow of relationships. maybe she wasn’t used to being treated this well, maybe she didn’t know what to do with a love so steady and unwavering. she had heard stories of people sabotaging good things out of fear, and maybe that’s what was happening to her. she wanted to believe that. she wanted to believe that the pit in her stomach would disappear once she got used to this new, perfect reality with sana.

and for a while, she forced herself to push through it.

sana had always been easy to love—too easy, even. her smile could light up a room, and she had a way of making kazuha feel like the center of her universe. on paper, everything was ideal. they were ideal. sana cooked for her after long practices, left little notes in her gym bag, and never failed to cheer her on from the stands. when zuha felt exhausted or overwhelmed, sana would pull her into bed, wrapping her in soft blankets, and make the world disappear.

so why did it feel like something was missing?

barely sleep when you sleep next to me

but i keep thinkin' i'll find a cure

the younger girl wracked her brain, trying to figure out an answer to her questions. she had to find a cure for this gnawing feeling, for the suffocating guilt that hung over her like a cloud. was there something she could do to make it better? to feel the way she was supposed to feel about sana?

she didn’t know how long she had been staring at the ceiling, her mind racing while her body stayed still. her eyes drifted back to sana, whose chest rose and fell in gentle, peaceful breaths, completely unaware of the turmoil right next to her. sana had given her everything, had loved her in ways kazuha had only dreamed of being loved.

so why did it feel like she was lying next to a stranger?

kazuha knew she should be grateful. sana was perfect. she was sweet, attentive, and everything kazuha could have ever wanted in a girlfriend. she ticked every box—more than that, she went above and beyond. and yet, as she lay there, she couldn’t shake the suffocating feeling of emptiness, of being disconnected from the person she was supposed to love.

the younger girl kept searching for an excuse, a reason why things felt off. maybe it was the stress of training, the endless routines and expectations placed on her shoulders. maybe she just wasn’t used to being treated this well. maybe she was afraid of being loved so fully because, deep down, she didn’t believe she deserved it.

it has to be me, not her, kazuha thought desperately. i just need to figure it out.

i say that i'm fine, i tell you all the time

i've never felt so happy and sure

sana would always ask how she could be a better girlfriend or if she was not filling any needs that the younger girl had. and kazuha would smile, press a kiss to her forehead, and say the same thing every time. "you’re perfect, sana. i’ve never been happier."

but those words felt heavier now. more like a shield than a truth.

sana never missed a beat. she made sure zuha was well-fed, well-rested, and never went a day without feeling loved. if kazuha had a bad day at practice, sana would surprise her with her favorite meal. if she was stressed, sana would pull her into a long, comforting hug until the tension melted away. every need kazuha could have ever voiced, sana met without hesitation.

but deep down, kazuha knew the truth she could never say out loud. it wasn’t about what sana did or didn’t do. it wasn’t about needs being unmet. the problem wasn’t sana at all. it was her. her heart, twisted with confusion and guilt, couldn’t embrace the perfection that stood right in front of her.

sana was giving her everything, and yet, she still felt like something was missing.

every time sana asked, every time those worried brown eyes looked into hers, kazuha would swallow the lump in her throat and say she was fine. that she had never felt so sure, so secure in her relationship. 

even though, in reality, she had never been more uncertain.

but i'm so scared of my guitar

'cause it cuts right through to the heart

there were many times where nakamura kazuha could have confessed to cheating. she thought about it more often than she'd like to admit. in their intimate, quiet moments—when sana would smile at her with that radiant, genuine warmth, or when she’d make her favorite breakfast without even asking—kazuha's chest would tighten with guilt. the words would bubble up in her throat, i’m sorry. i’ve been lying to you. i’ve been with someone else. but they never made it past her lips.

there were so many moments when she could’ve come clean. sana deserved to hear the truth, straight from the source.

like the time they sat together on the couch, sana's legs draped over kazuha's lap as they lazily watched a movie. sana had looked over at her then, her hand brushing through kazuha's hair with a gentle touch. “you're everything i’ve ever wanted,” sana had whispered, her eyes filled with sincerity and love. and kazuha, heart pounding in her chest, had opened her mouth to respond, but the words that came out weren’t the truth she needed to speak.

“i love you too.”

the lie tasted bitter, yet it slipped out so easily. the guilt followed her everywhere, shadowing every tender moment they shared, every smile they exchanged. it clung to her like a second skin, suffocating her.

yeah, it knows me too well so i got no excuse

i can't lie to it the same way that i lie to you

she had mastered the art of lying to sana, weaving together a story of love and commitment, smiling through the guilt, and telling her everything was fine. sana believed her every time. maybe she wanted to believe that kazuha was still the girlfriend she thought she knew.

but the pit in her stomach knew better. 

the guilt that gnawed at her, the restless thoughts that kept her awake at night—it knew her too well. it was a constant, nagging reminder that she was living a lie. she couldn’t hide from it the way she could hide from sana. every time she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw the truth reflected back at her, the shame carved into her expression.

no matter how much she told sana she was happy—that they were happy—there was no escaping the fact that deep down, kazuha wasn’t. and pretending otherwise wasn’t going to fix that hollow ache inside her.

the more she tried to shove it down, the more it resurfaced when she was alone. she couldn’t keep lying to herself, and it was only a matter of time before she wouldn’t be able to lie to sana anymore either.

kazuha’s chest tightened as she stared at the ceiling. she had no excuses left. she knew what she was doing was wrong. and yet, she hadn’t stopped.

how long could she keep lying before the truth shattered everything?

i'm so scared of my guitar

if i play it, then i'll think too hard

when sana’s alarm went off, it was around 5:45 am. they both had morning practice to attend, so naturally they just shared an alarm. kazuha felt the older girl curl into her side, her soft cheek resting against her collarbone as she breathed slowly. 

it was moments like this that should have felt safe, secure—like the perfect life everyone wanted. but instead, they filled her with dread.

the alarm had only been on for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity as she lay there, paralyzed by the weight of her thoughts. sana stirred beside her, wrapping her arms around kazuha’s waist in that gentle, instinctual way she always did in the morning. she was so sweet, so perfect, and it made kazuha feel even worse.

if she let herself think too hard—if she really examined her feelings—kazuha knew she’d unravel. the truth was there, buried beneath every forced smile and every moment of affection, but she didn’t want to face it. not yet. not today.

she swallowed thickly, her hand absentmindedly tracing circles on sana’s shoulder as her mind wandered back to yujin. the way things had spiraled, how one kiss had led to something more, something she couldn’t take back. sana trusted her, believed in her, but kazuha wasn’t sure she deserved any of it.

sana shifted slightly, her voice soft with sleep. “morning,” she yawned, nuzzling into her girlfriend’s side. “ready for practice?”

kazuha forced a smile, even though the knot in her stomach tightened. “yeah... just give me a minute.” her voice cracked at the edges, but she hoped sana wouldn’t notice.

still half-asleep, the older one hummed in response, her eyes fluttering shut again for just a few seconds before she slowly pulled herself up, stretching. “baby are you okay?” she asked, her brow furrowing with concern, as if sensing the unease in her lover’s voice.

“yeah, i’m fine,” kazuha replied automatically. she had said it so many times by now that it almost felt natural—almost.

once you let the thought in, then it's already done

so i'll lay in your arms and pretend that it's love

she wasn’t ready to face it. not yet. not while sana was still curled into her, trusting her.

but for how much longer could she keep this up?

the dark harried girl pressed her lips to sana’s hair, breathing in her familiar scent, pretending for a few more seconds that this was enough, that it was real. they moved through their morning routine in comfortable silence, the kind of rhythm that came naturally after sharing so many mornings together. sana hummed softly as she made coffee, and kazuha found herself lost in the sound, momentarily distracted from her thoughts.

“do you want your usual?” the older girl called from the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder. the sight of her, hair tousled and wearing one of kazuha’s oversized hoodies, brought a small smile to kazuha’s face.

“yes please,” kazuha replied, trying to keep her tone light. she leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and watching sana move with effortless grace. this should be enough, she thought, still trying to convince herself.

if i was brave and noble like you

i'd have the nerve to just stop stringin' you along

they walked hand in hand to the gym, enjoying the early dawn together. at least, kazhua was trying to enjoy it. the cold nipping at her skin was nothing compared to the icy grip of uncertainty in her chest. the taller girl stole glances at sana, her face lit up by the soft morning light. soft shades of pink decorated her cheeks and nose, making her look even more adorable. it was in moments like these that made kazuha feel both elated and tormented. 

how could someone so perfect be standing beside someone so broken?

as they reached the gym entrance, kazuha’s grip on sana’s hand tightened involuntarily. the moment felt somewhat significant, almost like it was a tether connecting her to the reality she was desperately trying to escape. the laughter and chatter of their teammates echoed around them. 

zuha took her usual seat on a nearby bench, pulling her court shoes out from her backpack. sana sat beside her, their shoulders brushing together, and kazuha tried to focus on the excitement of practice rather than the tumult of feelings swirling in her chest. she could hear sana chatting animatedly with their friends, her laughter ringing like a melody that usually filled kazuha with warmth. but today, it felt distant, muffled by the weight of her internal struggle.

as the team began to warm up, kazuha’s gaze drifted across the gym, her mind elsewhere. she could hear snippets of conversations, the playful banter of her teammates, but all of it faded into the background.

her girlfriend, the outstanding captain she was, noticed immediately. 

sana jogged up to her girlfriend, gently putting a hand to her cheek and jaw. “hey,” she whispered as she looked up at her. “what’s going on?” she asked softly, scanning her girlfriend’s body up and down. kazuha smiled and gave her hand a quick kiss. “just tired. i’m going to use the bathroom, i’ll be back.”

but i'm not half as decent as you

i'd rather be tied to someone, even if they're wrong

sana nodded, her expression still laced with concern. “okay, but don’t take too long. we’ve got to run our new plays.” kazuha forced another smile, though it felt more like a grimace, and turned away, heading toward the bathroom. as she walked, she felt a mix of guilt and confusion swelling within her. she didn’t want to worry sana, but the weight of her secret was becoming unbearable.

once inside the bathroom, kazuha leaned against the cool tile wall, taking a deep breath to steady herself. she splashed some water on her face, hoping to wash away the swirling thoughts. but before she could gather her thoughts, the door swung open, and in walked yujin, her expression brightening the dull space.

“hey, stranger,” yujin said casually, her voice teasing. she quickly took in the look on the other girl’s face, eyebrows raising at the sight. “you look like shit, dude.”

kazuha shot the basketball player a half-hearted glare, trying to mask her turmoil with humor. “thanks, just what i needed to hear,” she replied, her voice a little shaky as she wiped her hands on her volleyball shorts.

the taller girl stepped closer, her expression softening as she leaned against the sink beside the japanese girl. she folded her arms against her chest, staring straight ahead. “seriously though, what’s up? you’ve been acting off lately.”

the volleyball player sighed, running a hand through her hair. “i don’t know. everything feels overwhelming right now.” 

“is it sana?” yujin asked, her tone casual but laced with genuine concern. “you two are still good, right?”

zuha hesitated, the weight of her secret hanging in the air between them. “i mean, yeah, she’s great. perfect, actually,” she said, the last word tasting bitter on her tongue. 

yujin narrowed her eyes, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “but?”

“but i don’t know if i deserve her,” kazuha admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “i keep thinking about what you asked me the other day.”

“the thing about the cheeseburger? i’m still telling you, we need to—” “no, not the cheeseburger, idiot.”

yujin raised an eyebrow at the quick interruption, her teasing demeanor faltering. “oh, right. that thing.” kazuha felt her heart race as she continued. “you asked me if i even liked sana. i thought i did, but now i’m not so sure.”

the basketball player leaned back against the sink, arms still crossed, studying kazuha’s face with a mix of concern and curiosity. “why not? you’ve been together for a while now, and she’s a perfect girlfriend. i mean, it’s literally sana.”

“maybe i’m just scared of losing something perfect,” kazuha admitted, biting her lip. “but at the same time, maybe i’m not ready to let go of the thrill that comes with being with someone who isn’t perfect.”

i make excuses, my friends know the truth is

i'm not as alright as i claim

“you look like shit,” chaeyoung said casually as she poured the younger girl a drink. kazuha chuckled, rolling her eyes as she accepted the glass from her. the japanese girl had asked her teammate to hang out for drinks, knowing that out of everyone on the team, the blonde would be the most likely to accept. “thanks for the vote of confidence,” kazuha replied, taking a sip of the drink. the bitter flavor hit her palate, momentarily dulling the weight on her chest.

it was also convenient that lisa opened her mouth for once, because chaeyoung knew about her situation with yujin, courtesy of ygu’s star player.

the blonde leaned against the bar, her expression shifting to something more serious. “seriously though, what’s going on? you’ve been acting off lately, and it’s not just the dark circles under your eyes.”

kazuha sighed, staring into her glass as if it held the answers she desperately sought. her eyes briefly flickered over her shoulder to glance at her teammate before speaking.

“have you ever loved someone? like fully, all the way, no mistakes and regrets?”

the older girl paused, her own drink halfway to her lips, caught off guard by the question. she slowly set the glass down, leaning in closer to kazuha. “why do you ask?”

zuha shrugged, avoiding chaeyoung's sharp gaze. “i’m trying to understand what love really is. i thought i knew, but now i feel like i’m just running away.”

“love is complicated,” the korean mumbled, her tone surprisingly soft. “it’s not just about the good moments. it’s messy, full of doubts and regrets.”

“exactly,” kazuha replied, frustration creeping back into her voice. “i don’t want to feel like this. i want to love sana the way she deserves, but i keep thinking about someone else. someone who makes it easy.”

chaeyoung’s expression shifted, a hint of something bittersweet flickering in her eyes. the japanese girl didn’t know much about park chaeyoung’s love life, but she did know that a certain basketball player was always around her.

“sometimes we use people to escape our feelings. it’s not fair to them, but it feels safe at the moment.”

zuha looked up, surprised by the honesty in her teammate’s words. it was almost comforting, in a way. “you understand that?”

“yeah,” chaeyoung said quietly, her gaze distant. “i’ve been there before. using someone to mask what i really feel. it’s tempting because it’s simple, but it doesn’t fill the void.”

“do you love this person?” kazuha asked quickly, a hint of curiosity in her voice. “the one you keep running to?”

the blonde’s gaze sharpened, and she hesitated, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging in the air. “love isn’t just about the person, you know? it’s also about the timing and circumstances. sometimes, we fall for the wrong people at the right moment.”

kazuha felt a pang of empathy for her friend, sensing that there was more beneath the surface. “so what do you do? just keep pretending?”

i say that i'm fine, i tell them all the time

as they watch all the light fade away

the older volleyball player shrugged, “sometimes you just go through the motions,” she replied, her gaze drifting to the dim lights of the bar. “it’s easier that way. you wear a mask, smile, and act like everything’s fine even when it’s falling apart inside.”

the japanese girl nodded, understanding all too well. “but it doesn’t change anything, does it? pretending just makes the loneliness worse.”

“no, it doesn’t,” chaeyoung said quietly, her voice tinged with sadness. “but facing the truth is terrifying. you risk everything—your comfort, your stability, even the relationships you care about. you won’t always feel better once the truth comes out, either.”

kazuha raised an eyebrow, surprised by her friend’s bleak perspective. “what do you mean?” she asked softly. the blonde shrugged, her gaze distant. “honestly? sometimes it’s better to just keep things to yourself. if it’s not broken, don’t fix it, you know? why rock the boat when you can just enjoy the ride?”

she frowned, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration. “but is that not fair to someone you love?” 

“do you want to see the person you love with someone else?” the korean girl asked slowly. kazuha felt her heart sink at the question. “no, of course not,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “but keeping it all in doesn’t feel right. it feels like i’m lying to her.”

chaeyoung leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “is it really lying if you’re just not saying everything? sometimes silence is just self-preservation. you can love someone and still have your own struggles. it doesn’t mean you have to lay it all out on the table.”

“but what if she finds out?” zuha’s mind raced with images of sana’s hurt expression, the tears that would follow. the way her girlfriend’s smile would fade and she’d fall apart at the sight. “what if i end up destroying everything?”

“then you destroy everything,” she replied with a shrug. “but you have to think about what’s best for you, too. you think sana would want you to be unhappy just for the sake of her feelings? wouldn’t she want you to be content, even if that means keeping a few things to yourself?”

yeah, i'm so scared of my guitar

'cause it cuts right through to the heart

whether it was the alcohol, or the emotions that had been bubbling beneath the surface, nakamura kazuha felt a rush of impulsiveness as she left the bar. the night air was cool against her flushed cheeks, and the echoes of chaeyoung’s words lingered in her mind. 

she arrived at yujin’s place quicker than she ever had before, her heart racing with both anticipation and anxiety. the door swung open, and yujin stood there, casual and relaxed, her hair slightly messy from showering. she likely just finished practice not too long ago. “hey, zuha. what’s up?”

“can i come in?” kazuha asked, her voice a whisper. yujin nodded, stepping aside to let her in. the apartment was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the lively bar she just left. kazuha felt a sense of comfort wash over her, but the heaviness in her heart was still there. once inside, kazuha leaned against the wall, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “i don’t know why i’m here,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “i just needed to get away.”

yujin stepped closer, concern flickering in her eyes. “are you okay?” she asked, glancing over her friend’s body for any noticeable injuries.

the japanese girl shook her head quickly, ignoring her heart feeling as if it was falling apart. “no, i’m not okay.” she took a deep breath, the vulnerability hitting her hard. before she could overthink it, kazuha closed the distance between them, reaching out to pull yujin closer. 

their lips met in a messy kiss, the contact making zuha’s stomach flutter for a moment. she never got butterflies when sana kissed her. but just as quickly, yujin pulled back, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“dude, you’re crying,” yujin said softly, brushing a thumb under kazuha’s eye to catch the tear. “what’s going on?”

kazuha felt her heart sink, the weight of her emotions crashing down on her. “i need you to stop talking.” the volleyball player whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in closer, desperation evident in her eyes. she pressed her lips against yujin’s again, trying to drown out the chaos swirling in her mind.

yeah, it knows me too well so i got no excuse

i can't lie to it the same way that i lie to you

kazuha's hands trembled slightly as they came up to grip yujin's shoulders, holding her close. her heart raced wildly, a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through her veins. she knew she was crossing a line, but at that moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. all she wanted was to lose herself in yujin, to find some semblance of peace in her arms. but even as she deepened the kiss, she was acutely aware of how wrong this felt. 

her mind kept going back to sana. sana, who loved her. sana, who was unaware of everything kazuha was doing. sana, who was too perfect for her.

tears streamed down kazuha's face as she finally pulled away, her chest heaving with labored breaths. “i’m sorry,” she whispered over and over as she pulled her hoodie over her head. “i’m sorry, sana.” the alcohol and the emotions overwhelming her caused her mental state to currently become even more suffocating.

yujin knew the best thing to do right now was to just let her friend use her as the distraction. the basketball player gently kissed the japanese girl’s neck. "shh," yujin whispered, her breath hot against kazuha's ear. "it's okay. we don't have to think about anything else right now. just focus on me." 

she pressed another soft kiss to kazuha's neck, relishing in the way her friend shivered beneath her touch. yujin's hands roamed over kazuha's body, tracing the curves she had come to know so well. she could feel the tension in her friend's muscles, the way she was clinging to her like a lifeline. it made yujin's heart ache, knowing that kazuha was in so much pain. but for now, she pushed those thoughts aside. she wanted to make kazuha feel good, to help her forget about everything else, even if it was just for a little while. 

i'm so scared of my guitar

if i play it, then i'll think too hard

physically, yujin’s body was nothing like sana’s. and yet, despite this, all kazuha could think about and feel in the moment was sana. as yujin's hands explored kazuha's body with a mix of desire and tenderness, the scent of sandalwood enveloped them both. but instead of finding comfort in the familiar aroma, kazuha was overwhelmed by a wave of guilt and confusion. 

the more yujin touched her, the more vividly sana's image flooded kazuha's mind. she could almost feel the gentle caress of her girlfriend's fingers on her skin and hear the soft whisper of her voice in her ear. the scent of sana's perfume, a delicate floral fragrance, seemed to linger in the air, mocking her betrayal.

every brush of yujin's lips against her skin, every husky whisper in her ear, only served as a painful reminder of what she was giving up, of the trust she was shattering. tears stung kazuha's eyes as she buried her face in yujin's neck, her breath coming in ragged gasps. she wanted to scream, to cry out her anguish and confusion to the world. but she couldn't, not while she was in yujin's arms, not while she was betraying everything she held dear. kazuha knew that no matter how good it felt, no matter how much she tried to lose herself in the moment, the guilt would always be there, eating away at her from the inside.

she was making a mistake, one that would haunt her for the rest of her life. and yet, she couldn't seem to stop herself from falling deeper into the abyss of her own desires.

kazuha was tired of thinking, tired of the guilt and confusion that seemed to consume her every waking moment. in yujin's arms, she could pretend that everything was okay, that she wasn't shattering the foundation of her relationship with sana. she could lose herself in the heat of the moment, in the pleasure of yujin's touch, and forget about the consequences that would surely come.

once you let the thought in, then it's already done

so i'll lay in your arms and pretend that it's love

it was almost midnight when kazuha went home. the alcohol had long since worn off, leaving her with a pounding headache and a heart that felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. the walk home was a blur, the streets empty and silent save for the occasional passing car. kazuha barely registered her surroundings, her thoughts consumed by the events of the night. as she finally reached her apartment, kazuha fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking as she tried to unlock the door

sana wouldn’t be home until tomorrow since she went to study and sleepover at miyeon’s place. 

the tears she had been holding back began to spill over, cascading down her cheeks like a relentless storm. she turned away from the window, feeling the walls of her small apartment closing in on her. the familiar space felt alien and suffocating, reminding her of the joy that had once filled it—joy that now felt painfully out of reach.

she stumbled back to the bed, collapsing onto the sheets that still smelled faintly of sana’s perfume. as she buried her face into the pillow, the scent enveloped her like a warm embrace, and kazuha couldn’t help but cry harder. the tears soaked into the fabric, mingling with her longing and despair.

“why can’t i just be happy?” she sobbed into the pillow, her voice muffled as the weight of her confusion bore down on her. she felt so lost, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that she couldn’t untangle. the thought of sana brought a mix of warmth and guilt that twisted her stomach in knots.

kazuha’s hands trembled as she clutched the pillow tighter, feeling the desperate need to escape her own skin. she wanted to be someone else, someone who didn’t carry the burden of conflicting feelings. frustration surged within her, and before she could think twice, she ripped off her shirt, feeling the cool air against her skin.

yeah, i'll lay in your arms and pretend that it's love

i pretend that it's love

she needed more. she needed to feel close to sana, to wear her essence like armor against the chaotic storm inside her. in a feverish panic, she reached for sana’s clothing, pulling out a soft hoodie from the closet that had been left behind. it was a comfort, a reminder of the moments they had shared—snuggling on the couch, late-night talks, and the tender kisses that had once felt so right.

kazuha slipped it over her head, the fabric enveloping her like a second skin, but it only heightened her sense of loss. the realization that she couldn’t just have that feeling back broke her further. she fell back onto the bed, sobbing into the pillow once more, the soft fibers absorbing her cries as she gripped the hoodie like a lifeline.

“it’s not fair,” she cried, her voice raw with emotion. “i just want to be happy with you, sana.” the tears flowed freely, each sob racking her body as she let her pain pour out into the night. the room felt heavy with her anguish, the shadows lengthening around her as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming tide of her emotions.

with each cry, kazuha felt a small part of her unravel, a knot of pain and confusion that she had kept so tightly bound within her. she clawed at the sheets, feeling the weight of her heartache crashing down like waves against a rocky shore. “i don’t want to feel this way,” she gasped, the words escaping her lips between sobs. 

“i just want to feel you.”

'cause what if i never find anything better?

the doubt always creeps through my mind

the japanese girl knew she could never get anyone better than sana. the way she laughed, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her dreams, the warmth of her embrace—it all felt irreplaceable. but with that knowledge came a crushing sense of fear. if she couldn’t make this work, if she continued down this path of uncertainty and pain, would she be left with nothing but regret?

the japanese girl buried her face into the pillow once more, letting the tears flow freely as the realization hit her like a wave crashing against a rocky shore. she didn’t want to hurt sana; she didn’t want to be the cause of her sadness. but each time she thought about confessing her fears, the image of sana's smile made her heart ache.

how could i ever hurt someone so perfect? kazuha thought, squeezing her eyes shut. the ache of her heart felt almost unbearable, the conflicting feelings swirling in her chest like a storm threatening to consume her whole.

she wished for a sign, something to guide her through the fog of uncertainty. but all she could feel was the sharp sting of doubt clawing at her heart, whispering reminders of her insecurities. what if this was all she would ever have? 

what if letting sana go meant losing everything that mattered?

so we'll stay together 'cause, how could i ever

trade somethin' that's good for what's right?

her breaths came in shaky gasps as she pressed her face deeper into the pillow, wishing for a moment of clarity. all the doubts, the questions, the unspoken fears—they wrapped around her like chains, holding her captive in a prison of her own making.

kazuha gripped the sheets tighter, her emotions boiling over as she felt the cool fabric beneath her fingertips. she had to make a choice, but the thought of losing sana was unbearable.

tears streamed down her cheeks, and she let out a choked sob, feeling as though the weight of the world was pressing down on her. in that moment, she knew. i can’t lose her. i don’t want to lose her. the realization crashed over her like a wave, washing away the doubts that had plagued her.

even if she no longer felt in love with sana, she still wanted the girl to stay. it was selfish, it was cruel, it was messy, and it was all built on a lie. 

oh, i'm so scared of my guitar

it cuts right through to my heart

kazhua fell asleep on the bed, sprawled out in a tangle of sheets and remnants of her own emotional turmoil. the darkness of the room wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, but it did little to shield her from the tempest of thoughts that raged within.

a few hours later, the soft light of dawn seeped through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. kazuha stirred, the sound of familiar footsteps approaching pulling her from her restless sleep. she felt the mattress dip slightly as sana sat on the edge, her voice gentle and soothing. “baby, wake up. i made breakfast.”

kazuha blinked, her eyes still puffy from crying. she turned to face sana, who looked as radiant as ever, her hair cascading over her shoulders like sunlight spilling over the horizon. “morning,” kazuha mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and remnants of tears.

sana’s face lit up with a smile, the kind that always made kazuha’s heart race. “i hope you’re hungry! i made your favorite.” the older girl stood, pulling kazuha’s comforter off and revealing her disheveled state. “get up, sleepyhead!”

with a soft groan, kazuha sat up, her mind still foggy from the emotional breakdown of the night. as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she caught a glimpse of sana bustling about the kitchen, a flurry of energy and love. it made her feel sick. she felt nauseous.

but as the smell of scrambled eggs and toast filled the air, kazuha felt the tears threaten to return. she quickly blinked them away, pushing down the overwhelming wave of emotion.

“c’mon, i made extra just for you,” sana called cheerfully, glancing back with a playful grin. “and i even added some of that cheese you like.”

kazuha forced a smile, standing to join her girlfriend at the table. as they sat down, sana poured her a glass of orange juice, her movements tender and caring. zuha picked at her food, every bite a reminder of the love that sana poured into these little acts of kindness. but the warmth in her heart was tinged with guilt, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being untruthful.

sana reached out, placing her hand over kazuha’s, concern etching her features. “hey, are you okay? you seem a bit off.”

kazuha felt her throat tighten, the weight of everything crashing back down. “i just had a bad dream,” she said quickly, the lie slipping from her lips. “that’s all.”

“really?” the older girl’s brow furrowed, her voice softening. “do you want to talk about it?”

kazuha shook her head, forcing a laugh that felt hollow. “no, it’s silly. just stupid stuff.” she wanted to believe that was enough, that she could bury her fears beneath the surface like she always had. but the truth hung heavily in the air between them, and kazuha couldn’t help but feel that her words were a betrayal.

sana squeezed her hand, her eyes filled with concern and affection. “if you ever want to share, i’m here for you. i promise.”

it knows me too well, i got no excuse

i can't lie to it the same way that i lie to you

at that moment, the dam inside kazuha broke once more, tears pooling in her eyes as she fought to keep them at bay. the love sana offered felt like a lifeline, but the younger girl was terrified of the truth, terrified of the thought that she might be the one to hurt the person who loved her so deeply.

“i’m sorry,” kazuha finally whispered, her voice trembling. “i just don’t want to lose you.” she put her head in her hands, the weight of her emotions bearing down on her. she felt horrible, both physically and mentally.

sana’s heart ached at the sight, and she quickly wrapped her arms around kazuha, pulling her close. “you won’t lose me,” she promised softly, rubbing soothing circles on kazuha’s back. “i’m here, okay? we’ll figure it out together.”

kazuha nodded but didn’t lift her head. she felt so lost, so tangled in her own thoughts, and it scared her to think that her confusion could hurt someone like sana.

“let’s take a break from all this,” sana suggested gently, pulling back slightly to look into kazuha’s eyes. “we have the day off from practice, remember? how about we just cuddle up and watch your favorite show? i’ll make popcorn, and we can binge-watch as much as you want.”

kazuha hesitated for a moment, the idea of escaping into the familiar comfort of their show appealing but also intimidating. yet, the thought of being wrapped up in sana’s warmth, of forgetting the world for a little while, was enough to coax a small smile onto her lips. “that sounds nice,” she murmured, her voice still shaky but more hopeful.

“great!” sana beamed, her smile brightening the room. she stood up, reaching out a hand to help kazuha up from the chair. “come on, let’s get cozy.”

i'm so scared of my guitar

when i play it, that's when i think too hard

kazuha wiped away the last of her tears and took sana’s hand, feeling a sense of calm wash over her as they moved to the living room. once there, sana grabbed a couple of soft blankets and set them up on the couch, arranging them just right for maximum comfort.

as they settled in, kazuha curled up against sana, resting her head on the older girl’s shoulder. the familiar theme song began to play, and for a moment, kazuha allowed herself to get lost in the show, the laughter and drama distracting her from her inner turmoil.

sana glanced down, noticing how kazuha seemed to relax into her side. “see? isn’t this better?” she asked softly, tucking a strand of hair behind kazuha’s ear.

“yeah, it is,” kazuha admitted, feeling the warmth radiate from sana. she felt safe here, cocooned in the blankets and the quiet comfort of their shared space.

as the episodes rolled on, kazuha found herself laughing at the antics of the characters, but underneath it all, her mind was still racing. the doubts and fears lingered like a shadow, whispering to her that she was living a lie. but with sana’s heartbeat steady beside her and her girlfriend’s laughter filling the room, kazuha found solace, if only for a little while.

i let the thought in, it's already done

but i'll lay in your arms and pretend that it's love

they had binge watched around 1 full season of her favorite show before sana fell asleep against the younger girl. kazuha glanced down at her, a soft smile tugging at her lips. the older girl looked peaceful, her chest rising and falling gently as she snuggled closer, instinctively seeking warmth.

kazuha felt a wave of affection wash over her as she brushed a finger along sana’s cheek, her heart swelling with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. how had it come to this? here was the world’s best girlfriend, offering her everything, and yet zuha was still trapped in her own confusion.

as she watched sana sleep, kazuha’s mind began to wander back to her thoughts from the previous night. she knew deep down that there was nothing more insulting than holding onto someone out of fear—fear of being alone, fear of change, fear of losing the only person who ever made her feel truly safe.

but what kind of love was that? it felt selfish to keep sana tethered to her when she wasn’t sure if her feelings were genuine or just a desperate grasp at familiarity. kazuha felt her heart twist at the thought. 

sana deserved better.

naturally, this left the younger girl with one decision; she had to be better, to do better.

she knew there was a chance that it wouldn’t work, and that it would all fall to pieces, but she had to at least try.

tears pricked at her eyes again, and she felt the familiar sting of helplessness. just then, she felt a slight movement beside her as sana shifted in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent. kazuha wiped her tears away quickly, not wanting to disturb the moment.

instead, she leaned back against the couch, trying to focus on the warmth of sana’s body against hers. as kazuha closed her eyes, exhaustion began to take over, and for the first time that day, she felt the weight of her worries lift, if only just a little.

kazuha drifted off to sleep with sana beside her, holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to navigate the tangled mess of her feelings. she would try and fall in love with her girlfriend again, somehow, someway. 

and for now, that was enough.

yeah, i'll lay in your arms and pretend it's enough

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[aer-arts]

small Danganronpa Despair time ramble, spoilers up throughout chapter 2

First off, Ace and Eden are tied for my favorite characters

second, these are all personal thoughts and opinions, you do not have to agree with me I just ask that you’re respectful

I have to admit though, while I am sad Ace is going to die, I am happy that Eden isn’t the culprit

I don’t want to get too far into an analysis of Ace, but my long story short is that I am so satisfied with this outcome, it’s so tragic yet so fitting and I can just sink my teeth into analyzing it (aka, I could absolutely write an essay if I wanted after i organize my thoughts)

but right now I wanna ramble about Eden, and I’m honestly really happy she isn’t the culprit. I feel like her being the culprit would just not work for the plot

especially in this cast, I think Eden is so vital to keeping balance, without her the cast would just be overwhelmingly negative and cyclical, she provides good balance. I also really appreciate the nuanced take on the idea of a good character. I think she is so much more impactful as a character who simply tries to be good without ulterior motives. Not every good person is doing it to manipulate someone. like, if Eden was the culprit, what would the message here be? That there is no such thing as a good person? That people aren’t nice unless they have something to gain? This show has themes of trust vs distrust, Eden to me represents the side of trust so if she were to be evil and manipulating Teruko here the whole debate goes out the window. It would just be “don’t trust anyone because no one is worth trusting” and that just wouldn’t sit right with me. We already have David for that

also, if Eden was to be the culprit, I feel like that would undermine the effect Min had. Despair time has a great first murder to me, and i genuinely did find Min to be an interesting culprit. But if Eden were to be the culprit in chapter 2, especially with the parallels between her and Min and both of their relationships to Teruko, Eden being responsible would kinda just be Min’s betrayal 2 electric boogaloo. It would mean that both chapters Teruko trusted someone who was trying to manipulate her, which would be repetitive. It would set this expectation that Teruko can’t trust anyone because she will be betrayed by them and it would sorta kill any suspense I would have going forward. Min’s murder is memorable because it feels unique (to me, I am also an idiot so take what I say with a grain of salt) but it goes out the window if every murder is like that.

also, narratively, culprit Eden just didn’t make sense to me? Like, genuinely, why would Eden kill Arei? I know I haven’t looked too far into any theories because I’m bad like that (I tend not to because I don’t want my expectations warped) but seriously, wouldn’t that be out of character? That might just be me. I do feel like sometimes people just don’t think characters can be genuinely nice/good, but that’s just my personal thoughts

also, as a joke, if Eden were to be the culprit that would just be a bury your gays trope, I know Ace is gay but that wasn’t brought up in the series so I’m not counting it

I don’t think I would have left as satisfied with the culprit Eden route. I bet the dev could’ve made it work and I’ll respect their decisions because it’s their story and characters and not mine

I am so excited to see where this story goes /gen

But yeah, just a small ramble. I’m having so many thoughts right now about the show/chapter 2 /pos

I could probably phrase all of this better but it’s almost midnight so who cares

[kurishiri]

17 . . . alfons main story

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: mentions of child labor or abuse, implied animal torture and death, symptoms of dissociation and depression (?)

—— Alfons’ POV ——

After Kate had left the pub,

I stayed behind, drinking whatever and whenever I felt, playing around in the night streets, and by the time I returned, Roger gave an earful, much to my displeasure.

I spent time around the vicinity as I pleased before returning to my room and catching up on some sleep that playing around at night had robbed me of,

and before I knew it, morning had come around.

Alfons: ‘You went and meddled even more, because that’s what you wanted’...

Lying down on the bed, I ruminated over the words from last night, leaving a bad taste.

After all, they were words that rang too true.

Alfons: ...Indeed, I had so much fun playing around with her that at some point I found myself closer to her than I ever thought.

A: She never felt discouraged in the slightest, even when she followed me around to places that should instill fear in her, and on top of that she would even fight a battle within a fire...

A: Now that I think back, perhaps she really had grown out of needing a ‘convenient illusion’ like myself.

She was someone who could live in reality in earnest. She could give her love to someone, and she could find her happiness.

——She could realize what I could only ever dream of.

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: hah... hah...

I left the boy named Roger behind, running for the orphanage that had kicked me out.

‘To die without leaving his mark on anyone’s memories.’

In other words, the fact I had been born, and the fact I will die... nothing will be left behind. Such was the my life.

The moment I had heard those words, I thought of the corpses of those nameless children, thrown out like they were garbage——

And I was struck with a fear that shook me to my core.

(But, that cat will surely remember me.)

(He wouldn’t ever forget me.)

That was all I wanted to check on. I just wanted to feel that warmth on my fingers once more, driving me to run as fast as my feet could take me.

When I knocked on the door of the orphanage, which was in poor condition, the head nurse answered.

And from behind her——a cat approached.

Cat: What’s with the noise?

Alfons: Oh, thank goodness... hey, don’t you remem——

Cat: ...Wh—it’s you!

Before I could finish my question, though, the cat threw a punch at me.

Alfons: gh!? B-but why...

Cats couldn’t hit people.

Wait, no, in the first place, cats——could not wear clothes. Nor could they speak words.

(So why is this cat wearing clothes and speaking?)

A throbbing migraine hit me then and there, causing me to close my eyes.

And when I opened them again, there before me stood——

the director of the orphanage, with a foul look.

(Ahh... that’s right.)

(I remember now...)

(My cat had long been——)

—— Flashback ——

It had happened on a certain day when I had made a small mistake.

And the director, knowing I wouldn’t react the way he wanted even when harassing me, instead aimed for the cat I had held so dear.

Seeing the cat become more and more of a lump of flesh right before my eyes, I felt my head start to throb in pain.

(This isn’t reality. That isn’t my cat...)

I said to myself, ‘The one who’s being hurt is not myself,’ as I always did.

All to escape to a convenient dream.

Such a habit, at that time, cast upon me a convenient illusion.

(My cat would never be killed by the likes of that director!)

(It’s the cat...)

(Yes, that’s right... it’s the cat who killed the director.)

The director, seeing me suddenly becoming devoid of all emotions despite having broken down crying just before, approached with a nervous air about him.

——In my eyes, though, it was a cat that approached me.

Alfons: I knew you could do it, my kitty cat.

And then I gently pet the back of its neck, as I had always done.

Then, after having peeked into the room that had gone quiet, the head nurse let out a cry.

Meanwhile, the cat let out a purr as I pet it.

Perhaps, the scene that was reflected in the head nurse’s eyes was that of the director down on all fours, purring as I pet him.

Truly, what a pitiful scene it was.

But, even so, to me, the director was killed by the cat, while the cat still lived on.

—— End flashback ——

——That is, until the moment I woke up from that convenient dream.

Director: Did you come here to get beaten again!? You... you bloody monster——!!

(That’s right...)

(The cat had actually died.)

(And I... I couldn’t bear such a thing.)

(Just to run away from the suffering, to somewhere less painful...)

(I had made myself think that the cat had never died in the first place.)

Even though I wished that it would remember me, even when I died, because I loved it,

I also chose to forget about its death for my own sake, however heartless that may have been.

Besides that, I had also heard at some church sermon that ‘love was not meant to be given while seeking something in return.’

In the end, in order to forget all the pain and suffering, I may have only pretended to love.

After all, I had used that cat’s life as I found convenient before throwing it away...

...so how was I any different from the people at the orphanage, who would use others for their own gain before throwing them out?

I had no memory thereafter of where I walked,

just that when I had come to, I found that I had left the orphanage, and I was wandering around the night streets of London.

(If only I hadn’t returned to check on the cat... I could still believe ‘it’s still living, and it still remembers me.’)

(And then I could still stay as the me ‘who could love the cat.’)

(I would have rather just stayed mad...)

(If I didn’t find out what actually happened... if only...)

If you find reality to be unpleasant, you need only seek out an escape.

But if I couldn’t even escape from it anymore——

What other choice did I have but to fall into madness?

—— End flashback ——

Now that I thought back on it, perhaps it was at that moment I had given up on any idea of living in earnest and any prospects of wishing for that so-called happiness.

And as I wandered the streets of the city at night on a whim, I found myself showing the people I met the momentary dream they wished to see.

After all, in order to live in this world that knew no kindness, a place one could escape to was needed.

To those who gathered around me, I figured this hand that could cast a convenient illusion on them was that very place.

(Just what am I doing all of this for?)

(Maybe I thought at one point... I could feel like some savior, who used his Cursed ability to show a sweet dream to those with a weaker will?)

Whenever I would plaster a smile on my face, spouting things like ‘let’s forget about reality and indulge ourselves’ while touching the backs of their necks, I would hear my own cold voice.

I was positively fed up with the me who would cling onto a fake love, who saw no hope in change for the better.

(But, well... I couldn’t care less anymore.)

If I was going to just up and disappear from this world, forgotten by all in the end...

Just like a single piece of candy, wouldn’t it be alright to wrap myself in a sweet dream for as long as I was living?

And then, if I could, I wanted to disappear from this world without leaving even the smallest trace of myself in anyone’s heart.

After all, the more clear any trace I left behind became, the more that would leave behind an open hole in the heart that could never be filled.

Alfons: ...I think I’ve had just about enough of this blasted sob story.

—— Kate’s POV ——

(“To die without leaving his mark on anyone’s memories”——such was Alfons’ tragic fate.)

I had always felt a sense of fear as I listened to Roger’s story of the past.

It was as though a black darkness that would swallow everything in its path whole was creeping up toward me.

(When Alfons dies... at that moment...)

(The members of Crown, the friends Alfons would play with, the people in the slums, me, anyone and everyone...)

(...will all end up forgetting about him.)

His name, what he looked like, the scent he gave off... and the fact he even existed in this world altogether.

Roger: ...Among the testimonies of people who’ve experienced this unnatural memory loss,

R: there was an account of having always felt like in their heart that they couldn’t remember something very dear.

R: And when they had a sudden urge to go into the ‘empty room’ in the house, they said they shed tears the moment they entered the room.

Kate: ...!

Roger: If I had to guess, that person had been close with one of the bearers of the ‘Curse of the Mirror.’

(When I had first met Alfons, I was more than fine with forgetting all about him...)

But now, at this point, just imagining how each of the memories borne between the two of us could fall from my fingertips and scatter on the ground,

I felt a pain I could hardly bear.

Just then, I was reminded of——

[1] The blue mallow tea

[2] The pie-throwing festival (+4 / +4)

[3] The fact we had drank together

The pie-throwing festival.

(I had thought he was going to take me somewhere shady,)

(but it would have never crossed my mind that we would end up participating in this odd festival that was held in the park.)

(When I had talked with Alfons, when we laughed together, and even when we touched each other in that way...)

If he were to die, I would no longer be able to remember any of it.

(Is that why...?)

(So that’s why Alfons——would never step deep into anyone’s life. Nor would he let anyone into his.)

He never sought anything more than a fleeting relationship.

And he would never connect with any person or place.

It was all because if he had made himself at home by someone’s side, or in their heart, then someday——

That would be left behind as nothing but a blank space, with no way to remember what had filled it with color in the first place.

Even if I asked Alfons himself, I would think he would simply laugh it off and say something along the lines of ‘well, if that is what you think, then perhaps that may be so.’

But, thinking about that, I felt his speech and mannerisms had some coherency.

Kate: ...So, about his fate...

K: Is it really possible to change it?

Roger: I know as well as you do. That’s well beyond me.

R: All that’s still being researched.

(Roger was saying that he had been researching this ever since before he had met Alfons.)

Kate: ...And how long has it been that way?

Roger: ——From the time I was a five year old kid, up until today.

(Wow, that is a long time...)

Even while under Her Majesty the Queen, a place that perhaps had the most documents related to the Cursed ones,

Roger, who was also a Cursed one himself,

didn’t know of a way to escape from their tragic fates.

That truth seemed to weigh deeply on my chest.

Kate: ...Thank you, for telling me all this.

Roger: Well, it’s not as though I intend to go back empty-handed.

Kate: Huh? ...wah—

With one hand, he pulled my waist toward him, his lips at my ear.

Roger: With this, you owe me one.

Then when he subsequently kissed the lobe of my ear, I pushed back against Roger’s chest on instinct.

Kate: W-what do you think you’re doing...!

Roger: I brought you medicine to help with a hangover, didn’t I? You can just consider this payment for that.

R: Well then, catch you around, lil lady. And take care of yourself.

With a shrewd smile, he left the room, leaving me alone once again.

Kate: Alfons’ tragic fate...

He was just like an illusion whose surface I could only graze my fingertips upon, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he would fade away from my heart like an actual illusion?

He had no desire to live, and so perhaps he wouldn’t mind if such a day came around tomorrow.

And at that time——would the feelings I had for him fade away as well?

(...I would hate that.)

I should have been searching for a way to bury this love to the grave.

But, no matter how much anguish this heart of love inflicted on me, I didn’t ever want to forget.

I wanted to hold onto these feelings close to my heart forever——even now, I found myself deeply wishing for that.

(I don’t want these feelings to become an illusion.)

——Around the same time, in the corner of the castle, the gears of a certain plot had begun to move.

Surrounding an elderly gentleman donning a blue ring were the other members of the Privy Council, their faces seeming nervous as they spoke in low voices.

Councilman Goa: ...Have those insolent twats who put out the fire of purification not been caught yet?

to be continued…

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꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[haibunnyy]

This might be a hot take but…

I loved S7 of vld and I don’t get all the hate for S8. I see it a lot on here that people hate the later seasons or flat out refuse to watch S7-S8 and while everyone’s entitled to their opinions, honestly I don’t get it and hope now with VLD being taken off Netflix people give it a chance before it’s gone.

!Spoilers below!

Disclaimer S7 IS my favorite season. From the travel home where we see just how far the paladins have come with their relationships with each other from goofy moments like the game show episode to E6 the journey within, when they’re going crazy stranded in space and fighting with each other. “you ran away. Maybe you should’ve just stayed away” ugh the angst love it.

Then the second half of the season had so many solid moments where the cast finally got what they wanted, going home, seeing their families, proving the people who doubted them wrong (specifically Keith with this one tbh) but it’s nothing like how they expected. I thought the fight for earth arc was one of the most serious and emotional arcs of the show. Everyone willing to die for their home planet, the almost self-sacrifice moments, part where Lance closes his eyes ready to die and Keith’s calling out to him…sold.

Don’t get me wrong it’s far from perfect, I hear the criticism. We get the dreaded bury your gays drop this season with Adam (maybe that’s why they decided to kill off Allura, had to even it out /j )

Moving into S8, arguably not at good as S7 by a long shot but I still think it’s worth the watch. And I know I’m gonna lose people here but oh well it’s me and my delusions against the world.

Persssonaalllyyy I see a lot of the hate for this season comes from Allura and Lance getting together. And okay don’t shoot me here but I’ve noticed a lot of hate for Allura in general stems from this season and I am a Allura defender to the end. I’m gonna be honest in the rewatch I could see it, why people ship klance (they’re my OTP I get it), the rumors about if there was one more season it’d be canon, or how the staff even shipped them or how someone left the team or got fired and that’s why it’s not canon. I get it truuuussttt me I get it. But that’s just not what we got and in the context of what we did get, I honestly thought Lance’s and Allura’s relationship, as short lived as it was, was cute.

We see 7 seasons of Lance flirting with Allura, flirting with all these girls claiming to be a romantic and you now what? He is! He’s a good boyfriend! As much as he changed throughout the show he’s still “loverboy Lance” nervous to make the perfect date for the girl he likes, talking to his friends about it cause he’s feeling insecure taking out a literal princess, taking Allura to meet his family, and as much as I ship klance over allurance (and would have preferred for the two of them to go out instead) their date was CUTE okay sue me.

As for Allura, I get it, she did not like Lance AT ALL in the beginning seasons. So where did this come from? Poor choices in the writing room most likely BUT in the canon Allura has been strong willed the entire show, leading along side the BP, becoming a paladin herself, giving up her father to protect others, loosing the castle of lions and truly one of the last pieces of Altea, she looses so much and even when she finds out there’s Alteans alive, they hate her and believe she’s the bad guy. She’s been this selfless warrior princess who’s had to be selfless for 7 seasons, I think when presented the opportunity to be selfish and happy, she would take it. Shes tired, all her paladins got to go home to their families, got to return to their home planet. Shes lonely af, happy for them ofc but that shit gotta be depressing.

And again as much as I prefer Klance and Allura/ Romelle, for the canon I thought it made a lot of senses that she’d go out with Lance after he asks. I definitely see it as a “fuck it, why not” from her and she gained feelings throughout their relationship. Which irl I don’t recommend but in my eyes it humanized Allura. She made a lot of selfish choices this season from taking creature from the void to, agreeing to go out with Lance. But again I don’t even think it was out of character of her. I think it was bound to happen, after everything she’s been through, being selfless and perfect all the time she finally cracks. Plus it was nice seeing Allura have her “I’m just a girl” moment. Going shopping with Romelle and Pidge, having girl talks, trying to impress Lance’s family. It made her more relatable.

Another selling point for this season were the fight seasons Honestly I loved all the fight scenes in this season, the animation really popped off today. My fav was between Zethrid and the paladins. But does does loose a point here for Zethrid and Ezor being hinted as a wlw but never explicitly stated so boo to that.

We also have a lot of fun and rewarding moments with the paladins as well, like the clear day episode. We get to see Shiro actually have fun for once. Only took 8 seasons but hey. The moments between Pidge and her family were very wholesome and rewarding considering how much Pidge went through to get her family back together. Lance with his family was also cute. His little rant about why his sister shouldn’t go out with Keith was funny. The infamous sunset scene with Keith and Lance, would I have gone batshit insane if it was a love confession between the two? Oh absolutely but oh well. Hunk and Keith’s friendship was nice to see considering where they started with Hunk being the timid one and Keith being an emo loser. TLDR it was nice to see those finale happy times where we really see how far everyone has come before the ending.

As for the ending, maybe I’m just not creative enough to see a different route. But Honerva being the finale villain was one of my favorite choices for this ending. She’s been there literally the entire time just fucking shit up for the universe. Her motive to be in a reality where she can be with her husband and child? 👏 having villains just be evil for the fuck of it is great and all. But it reminded me a lot of the scarlet witch from marvel and she’s my all time favorite character in he MCU so maybe that’s why I liked Honerva so much. Fuck the universe if your family is on the line, am I right? It made her a great villain in my eyes and the polar opposite of allura who had to give up her family and her home for the sake of the universe.

Which is why Allura sacrificing herself to save the universe? Lowkey saw it coming since around season 5 and to me made total sense. She tried to be normal, to live on earth or on the atlas, but she’s a reliac of the past and she knows it. It goes back to the point I made of this girl is tired af. A chance to save to universe and be reunited with her parents even if it’s death, she’d do it. Season 8 she tried deviating from the role forced upon her as the selfless sacrificial lamb but she was doomed from the start. I deadass cried when she died and honestly I’m fine with her death as well. Everyone did what they were destined to do; if the paladins were destined to save the universe, she was destined to die for it.

Now to the post credits and post canon

Here’s where I say the hate is valid and deserved. Points lost fr with having Shiro marry an extra. I get it, they wanted the diversity points of saying YES Shiro is in fact gay but they were only allowed so much wiggle room/if they put it at the very end nothing can go wrong right? so they settled for that. Do I see the damage it does towards queer representation in media? Now I do but at the time when my little gay self watched that I was shocked they’d even show that much and took the breadcrumb piece of rep and ran with it. I told myself, “meh shiro deserves to live the quiet married life after all the shit he’s been there.” But it def should have been Adam.

As for everyone else, the journey’s over. The lions are gone, I thought it made sense that everyone went their separate ways but still maintained a friendship. That’s growing up, that’s adulthood. When I watched that at 17 I was annoyed that they didn’t stay together as a friend group but now at 23, I totally get it. They are still friends, they just got their own things going on so they only reunite when they can. If that’s not adult friendships idk what is.

Keith traveling with the blade helping others, great! Hunk and Shay being cooks and doing diplomacy shit, awesome! Pidge living her best life with her parents building up earth, love it! Did I like that the one Latino character ended up being a stereotype and living on a farm? No I did not.

I interrupted as Lance staying on earth and grieving Allura’s death. Which I can see happening but Lance deserved his own happy ending. I see Lance becoming an MFE pilot or joining the Atlas crew with his sister, something where he continues to pilot cause it’s all he’s ever wanted to do but still carrying that grief with him.

To finish this yap session off, my final thoughts are I think a lot of S8 hate comes from Allurance and the post credits. I think the hate for Allurance and Allura is unfair and some of it stems (from what I’ve noticed) from this misogynist/fetishizing tendacy to shit on the female characters who come between mlm ships in fandoms. So again, I am an Allura defender through and through.

As mentioned earlier, hate for the post credits, makes total sense. But I’d like to bring up a point I see rarely discussed in this discourse. I am not excusing the queer bating that happened or the blatant racial stereotype we got for Lance’s ending but I truly believe Voltron is a product of the times and essential for the evolution of queer rep in western animation. I could do an entirely separate post on this but I’ll sum it up as best as I can here. Queer representation in main stream western media was still new and touchy. And mlm representation was even fewer. I think the backlash is valid and was necessary for dreamworks/Netflix and any other companies to learn their lesson that gay people in cartoons is OKAY and should be normalized. that’s why following I think Vld was one of the many factors in a shift for openly queer couples in animation that we see in shows like She-ra.

So it sucked that we never got klance yeah but I never once thought Klance was gonna be canon. I wished for it but I figured the best we could hope for is some hints like how they ended Legend of Korra.

So besides from the effects it had on western media, as a fan I’ll still take the ending and even recommend it to people as is because of the art that came after. The fanart, the edits, the post-canon and fix-it fics I love reading time and time again. None of that would exist without that controversial ending. I don’t think I’d still be such a diehard fan to this day if it had ended any differently. My appreciation for this show and obsession stems from how invested I was in the controversies, rumors and hype every season. Like the whole pride month post on twitter, dear god what a mess but hopefully a word of warning now for creators thinking of queer baiting fans again.

It’s not perfect, there were a lot of fucks up along the way and at times, downright problematic but I will still always recommend people watch VLD all the way through. But hey maybe that’s just my way of wishing I had more people to talk about the ending with ¯\_ツ_/¯

[citricacidprince]

I finished Inscryption recently and, surprisingly, at the moment the one I have the most thoughts on is Luke of all characters and they are buzzing around my brain at max speed

[inknopewetrust]

𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬

summary: after facing embarrassment from Aegon’s intrusive visit, Sylvi helps Aemond find attraction with someone closer to his own age. [aemond x fem!reader] [wc: 5.0k]

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), hand job, fingering, voyeurism/exhibitionism, aemond’s abuse by her is not tolerated here 🙂‍↔️, HotD themes.

quick links: masterlist | gif credit: @seaside-storm

The sounds of the Silk Streets in the early hours of morning were not for the faint of heart.

You had grown accustomed to them over the years of your residency—the noises, the people, the actions and wants of those who seek the services of an establishment like the one Sylvi ran.

It was not your proudest achievement; not one you’d shout from the rooftops but one that kept the food on the table.

It wasn’t hard. It was sex. And you learned to enjoy it with what little freedom was left when the coins were tossed and your body was aching.

Between your fingers one of those coins twirled absentmindedly as the curtains of your bedding swished at the retreat of your latest payer. There were seldom benefits from the occupation you took up yet the pay, after years of understanding and learning, had grown exponentially.

And the coin that tossed between your fingertips was enough to put food on the table for a few days; enough to buy a dress or to get passage to another town.

It was a reward for service you did not mind.

Sylvi had taught you what you needed to know. How to move, how to pleasure. She helped you determine what felt good and what would feel unpleasant to both you and a partner.

But she had her transgressions far beyond the positive.

One of them stalked the building in a fume.

The laughter that had propagated such anger left an hour ago but the remnants of the jesters stuck heavy in the air. They opened curtains and made spectacles of the givers and the receivers; they stared too long at you in the nude to make you feel at ease.

In the distance, you heard your name called yet you continued to flip the coin.

Aegon, the King as he was now, was no friend to the servants of pleasure. You consider yourself fortunate that he never sought you—as desirable, as insatiable, as you were.

It saved you from a world of hurt from a man as fickle as he was.

Although his reputation preceded him and the ire that still held itself like a cloud over the house was from his head, his brother, Aemond, was a welcome guest.

Though he too was someone you had not laid with either.

He had never lingered far from the woman of the house.

“Y/N.”

Said woman pulled back the curtain of your bed roughly. Against the pillows and covered in a robe the color of a midnight black, you lazily gazed at her.

“Did you not hear me call?” Sylvi asked impatiently. Her irritation was stinging.

“I was busy, Madame,” you responded loosely.

You arched your back and with it came cracks of relaxation. It felt good after being holed up in your bed for two hours.

“You know how Dornish men are,” you informed her. “That one was quite… spirited at this late hour.”

“What happy news for you,” she panned before nodding her head in the direction of her usual hideaway. “I seek a favor.”

“A favor?” You questioned with a mewl.

“It is for the one we do not speak of.”

Sylvi’s eyes gave you a warning. Aemond Targaryen… the one who fumed.

She had never asked for a favor regarding the Prince before and it intrigued you. It would fall a lie if you spoke of never having imagined what a man like him would be like in your bed.

He was a magnificent creature.

Tall and carved from the marble of a great sculptor, Prince Aemond was no stranger to the gazes of the pleasure folk. The way their eyes shined and pupils grew large, you were surely one of them.

It did not hurt that he was no more than the age you were now and had not yet taken a wife.

It was silly, however, to imagine a whore being the wife of a Prince. He had barely sparred you glances when he visited.

Dreams. That is all that it would remain.

“And you seek me?” You questioned, dropping the coin on your clothed stomach.

“I have a proposition for you,” she clarified. “One that will pay you well for your service.”

“The receiver is willing?”

“Yes.”

Her alcove was far nicer than yours.

Lavish with silken pillows and warm candlelight, it was near romantic if you forgot the circumstances of her actions. It smelt of lavender and oils; the kind she wanted throughout the establishment but could only create the corner she wanted here.

It was the first time you had been invited into the space.

Sylvi walked around you as you stood just inside of the curtains. She held the tassel of her robe between her fingertips, swinging it gently.

“We do not speak on what happens here, understood?” She asked you.

“I understand, Madame.” She nodded her head in approval.

“Good,” Sylvi affirmed.

On a ledge behind the bed, she grabbed a small sack of coins and tossed them to you. It landed with a jingle at the edge of the bed.

With delicate hands you grasped the strings and pulled open the bag to see coins worth the entire building. You dropped it, looking at Sylvi with wide eyes.

“T-This… this is far too much,” you scoffed.

“It is what the Prince offered,” she spoke as if the currency was nothing more than what the common folk paid.

There had to have been 10 gold dragons inside of the pouch.

The total jostled you.

You had long understood that the job you took on was ill-inspired. The money you had made was reasonable and never made you feel ashamed to take it.

But this… the currency enough to buy twenty horses; enough to buy a home or sail to Essos with no intention of returning… it did bring shame.

“And for such a currency what does the Prince expect of me? I will not be humiliated—“

“I have no intention of humiliating you.”

The voice cut through glass.

Behind you, with the curtains of Sylvi’s bedding swaying to a gentle close the man of her proposition appeared. You turned around with your mouth agape from the inability to finish your thoughts and as many mortals had before, your mind ceased its thoughts.

He was ethereal, otherworldly.

And he was fully nude.

You stuttered stupidly to greet him.

“P-Prince Aemond,” you managed. “I apologize. I did not intend to speak out of turn.”

He hummed, observing you as you did him. You straightened your back at the sensation. His eye piercing and cold—in a room basked in warmth he was not the bringer of it. Aemond let his mind roam the faults and perfections of your body and needn’t say what it was aloud.

He trusted Sylvi in a twisted way. If she said you were right for the job, surely she would not steer him wrong.

“So,” Aemond’s eye flicked to Sylvi. You took the opportunity to observe the blue gleam of the sapphire that filled the vacancy of his other.

“This is she?”

She introduced your name to him and his eye met yours.

“And the terms have been accepted?”

“They have, My Prince,” you spoke without hesitation.

“Aemond,” he clarified. “You are to call me Aemond.”

You tried his name on your lips and it was breathless. As his eye stalked your body, he took the initiative to take the step forward. The understanding of your willingness emboldened him to bury his brother’s words.

He was seldom humiliated but the reasons he flocked to Sylvi were different from the ones he sought from a willing companion: to release and forget.

Aemond approached you with soft steps and it was suddenly difficult to remember how to breathe. You held your breath, waiting, as his arm extended to you and his fingers brushed the fabric of your robe along your collarbones. He traced the skin with his fingers, along the edges of your robe as the delicate lacing became rough under his fingertips.

He was testing the waters.

You remained focused on his face as your heart rate began to increase. Every thump faster aligned with the draws of his fingers; long and nimble, softer than the men you were used to on days as long as these.

He was fluid and natural. There was no scared boy inside of him, but the hardened man he wanted the world to see.

Sylvi rounded her bed and you were reminded that she was still there as she looked at you.

“Touch her, Aemond. Touch her as you do in your dreams.”

At her command, his hand stilled. You half-thought her demands had sent him into a spiral of regret. Perhaps he would apologize for his lustful responses, scurrying away and back into the pit of dragon’s he came from.

Instead of listening to her in haste, he asked you a question.

“Where are you from?”

You were taken aback but remained stoic. Your job was to put on a performance no matter how surprising his words felt. No patron had ever asked you about, well, you.

You were nothing more than an orifice for their wanton needs.

“Honeyholt,” you responded quietly.

“Not far from Oldtown,” he commented, tracing the lace but never touching your skin. His hand grazed it until he reached the knot of your robe.

You shook your head, “no.”

“Did you enjoy it there?”

“It was far less exciting than King’s Landing.”

“May I?”

You had never had a patron ask permission before either.

You felt like a girl being dotted on. It was a strange feeling, one that had turned so drastically from a mere thirty minutes before—being treated like a doll to be thrown from one to be pampered… it was not what you were expecting.

“You may, Aemond.”

His finite hands worked the knot swiftly to let the robe fall open. When it did, he let it sit there for a moment as he took in the shape of your breasts underneath the fabric, he could see the mound of your pussy, and the way you stood completely still in wait.

He felt powerful when he normally felt meek.

Sylvi had been right. He did need this.

Aemond could feel the woman’s eyes behind him and whether they were on himself or you he would not know, but he felt them heavy.

He took his hands and pushed the fabric from your shoulders. It pooled around your feet in one push.

You breathed in deeply, nipples pebbling at the coolness now meeting you.

It was obvious, however, that your mere body was not enough to rouse him to hardness. If you spent anymore time watching him as he watched you, the sun would be up and his duties would call him away.

“Touch him,” Sylvi instructed you. “Do not be afraid.”

“I am not afraid,” you responded to her but did not look at her. She took a seat on her bed as you moved to stand toe to toe with Aemond.

“May I touch you?” You asked in the same voice of permission he had given you.

“You may,” and he said your name with a weight hearty on his tongue.

With his permission you reached for his right hand and placed it on your breast. His timidness was beginning to show through the hesitancy of his actions. The slow grip on your breast slowly became more comforting the more time he took.

“It’s alright,” you whispered as though Sylvi was not there and you were alone with the Prince. “You can touch me.”

You felt more pressure from his palm. Drawing your own hand to his chest, you began to feel the outlines of his muscles. Aemond was lean and fit, skinny but not sickly.

Each muscle was tense under your touch. He shuttered a breath through his nose and your hand recoiled in the slightest.

“I apologize,” he spoke as lowly as you had before. “I have not been with another in a long time.”

He had not been with another other than Sylvie in a long time, he meant.

“I can be slow, My Prince.”

“Aemond,” he corrected you.

“Aemond,” you said sheepishly in your forgetfulness.

“I do not need you to be slow.”

You nodded in reply and placed your hand back on his chest. You followed it down until you began to broach the zone in which your talents needed to please not only him, but Sylvi also.

If you were a disappointment, there would be no clothes nor food nor horses nor castles in your future.

“Then I will not go slow, Aemond.”

He hummed, intaking a breath as your fingers gently, kindly, fluttered over his cock. You looked up at him with your eyes hooded, eyelashes batting and he thought for an instance that no woman had ever looked at him that way.

Sylvi hadn’t and it awoke something with him.

You began to work him with your hand as he let his hand fall from your breast and brought it up to the back of your neck. He massaged the space briefly before holding onto you with a tighter grip.

In your hand he began to show himself to you. Growing in length, you licked your lips in anticipation and swallowed the bug that formed in your throat.

“Aemond,” you questioned as you stepped closer. You parted your legs to stand between one of his and he stopped you only by moving his other hand to grip your chin.

He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

The feel of your hand on his cock was enthralling. So smooth and soft, gripping him in hardness at the right moments but never suffocating and never hurting.

“Yes?” He was near breathless.

You took his response with no words but a shifting of your hand. You left his shaft and snaked your hand to his balls, cupping them the best you could. His staggered breath brought a small, sly smile to your lips as he gripped your chin tighter and his eye narrowed.

“Would—“ in his grip, you could barely get words out. He changed his positioning to hold both sides of your neck. “Would you like to see what I can do with my mouth?”

“It would be a waste to not,” he grunted when your hand put pressure on his balls.

He released your neck and watched as you sank to your knees obediently. In your position, he was reminded of the good and pious that prayed to the Seven. Your eyes were so innocent but your mind wicked; your hands were pleasurable and your words soothing.

It was a change and it was working for him.

You sat with your knees apart, feet against your backside and heels digging into the flesh. You ran your hands down your body as he watched you delicately before running your hands up his legs and resting on his upper thighs.

Placing a soft kiss on one of his thighs, you worked yourself toward his member as it beckoned you. You grasped the base of his cock with your hand, placing a sweet kiss on his ever-swollen head.

You let saliva gather at the front of your mouth and let it dribble out and onto his cock before taking him with your mouth.

Aemond was heavy on your tongue. His warmth was sending electricity from your mouth to your core; you felt the throb of want begin to pool at your center. He took both of his hands and placed them at the top of your head but did not push. He did not force and he allowed you to escape when you needed to breathe.

But he was in another world.

Never had he been taken in such a way but his mind liked playing tricks. It was not his first and when he thought back on the times he had been pleasured as such it was not as enjoyable.

Yet, he forgot her stares and focused on you. A woman closer to his own age and one that had a system of morality of questions and seeking answers in regards to pleasure.

You took his extended gratitude and kindness and returned it with your own.

With every pull of your mouth, you filled the space with what your mouth couldn’t take with your hand. You squeezed at his base and it made him see stars. In your vision you could see him watching if you looked up.

How his blue gem gleamed at you…

As you turned your head and used your salvia and some of his pre-cum that began to leak to wet his shaft, you moaned at the sensation. It sent you tingling, drawing a hand away from his thigh; you brought it between your legs and began to rub circles on your clit.

The wetness gathered quickly. You shut your eyes as the two parts of you, mouth and cunt, were being used to your own delight. As you opened them again, Sylvi caught the corner of your eye.

She rubbed herself over her clothes and you halted. Hand retreating from your body in an instant; the salvia that had gathered landed on your thigh with a splat and your hand loosened what held onto him. Aemond let one of his hands fall loosely beside him as he looked up and kept focus on the wall in front of him.

He needed to change. He had asked her for this change for his own sake and it was time for it to happen.

“Sylvi,” Aemond muttered absentmindedly.

“Yes?” She prompted as if he were to ask her to join the two of you. Her tone made you nervous but he never let his other hand fall from your head.

She went to remove her own robe but he stopped her with a turn of his head.

“Leave us,” he commanded.

Slyvi paused her hands against her body, dejected at Aemond while her eyes bounced between the two of you.

You, your hand still on his cock and your lips barely kissing it. Him, with his hand on your head and mind completely taken by you.

“Aem—“

“Do I have to repeat myself?” He asked her calmly. His heart beat so fast at his strength. Never did he believe he’d be able to breakaway.

“No,” she rose from the bed and made for the entrance.

Your breath was hot on his dick when she stopped again. For one moment Sylvi waited for Aemond to call her back but she was met with silence; a heavy weight of agony as she stood there and received no reply.

It was her retreating footsteps that brought relief to your bones.

Aemond’s other hand returned to your head.

“I did not wish for her to watch us,” he informed you.

You looked up at him from your spot on the floor. Along your chin were remnants of spit or spent, he wasn’t certain. All the same, he took a thumb and gathered it from you. He brought the thumb to his mouth and sucked the gathering from it.

“I did not either.”

“Good,” he hummed. “Now get on the bed.”

You needn’t be asked twice.

Aemond refrained from touching you as you rose from the floor and sat on the bed. Once you were seated, he leaned down to grab your ankle and pushed back on your shoulder to lay down. The message was received quickly and you laid back and brought your other leg bent beside you.

You were completely at his mercy. Your walls clenched around nothing when he ran his hands over the skin of your legs. You extended your arms above your head; feeling the soft silk pillows and coolness of the sheets below your body. The sensations were overwhelming.

“I’ve never been with a woman like you before,” Aemond’s hands roamed further, pulling you down on the bed to meet his body but not entering you.

“And what kind of woman am I?” You sighed contently.

“A kind woman.”

“How do you know me to be kind?” You asked him.

One of his hands feathered the skin between your leg and lips. They grazed it again and this time, running his fingers through where you wanted him most. A selfless breath left your lips.

“Your eyes are kind,” he bent down to lay a kiss on your knee. “There are not many kind eyes here.”

He stuck one finger in, followed by another. Your hand reached for the pillows quickly, back arching at the sensation. You once thought his fingers to be long and nimble but they were much more. You felt them so clearly and cleanly.

They reached within your walls; touching the plushy skin as it grew in wetness and emitted slick sounds of pleasure.

Once he felt you were ready, he wanted to test his third finger.

“Gods,” you stuttered out as his third finger slipped in and it became so quick. He was running away with himself as the sight of your pleasure overtakes him.

“F-fuck.”

The words continued to fall from your lips as he picked up his pace. His fingers moved in and out, in and out, and then a rapid succession of moving them up and down. Your body trembled at the noises. The wet, squelching sound of a mess too far gone.

He may not have been as experienced as other men, but he had ruined you for all in the future.

“That’s it,” he whispered against your thigh again. He bent down to watch you writhe at his actions. “What do you need from me? Hm?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you panted. “Just you Aemond.”

“Just me?” He murmured. “What of my cock? Do you want to feel me inside of you? Finish inside of you?”

The idea sent you spiraling. You imagined how his cock would feel longer and thicker than his fingers. How it would plead against the spot to make you come undone.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I want to know what it feels like.”

He removed his fingers to grasp his length in his hands. Aemond pumped himself briefly before lining his head up with your entrance, gripping your hip as you stayed splayed before him.

And then he slid in.

Seldom could explain the moment but you had seen stars. You saw the galaxies spoken of by the Maester’s and worlds beyond your own. There was no feeling but him filling you so fully and totally.

He shut his eye. The blue sapphire still glittering in the light; Aemond saw peace grow with a gasp. Everything in his mind went blank with white noise. All he could hear was himself as he sheathed himself inside of your warmth with a simple push. He filled you until he could no longer.

It was sinful to feel so good.

He held himself there for a minute. You wanted to sit up, hold his body close to yours and feel his muscles contract under your touch but stay as pliant as possible.

Against your convictions, Aemond leaned forward and cupped your cheek with his hands. It was entirely intimate for a man you had just met.

But his touch lingered lifetimes. It was as if you knew him forever, and this singular moment was one of plenty.

Stilled inside of you, his thumb caressed your bottom lip.

“May I kiss you?” He asked promptly.

You moved your hips in a roll to urge him to move, wrapping your legs around his torso and arms around his shoulders. His lips brushed against yours.

He pulled his hips back and slowly slid himself back in.

You nodded your head the best you could against the sheets and he ticked at you. His nose nudged yours, your lips begging to be touched but he neglected them.

“No,” he cooed. “I need you to say it. Say you want me to kiss you.” Again, he slid out, back in and your hips met him there.

“Kiss me, Aemond. Kiss me, please.”

Pushing his cock deeper into you, your mouth fell agape and he used the opportunity to capture his lips with your own, swallowing your moan and losing himself in your intimacy.

He never thought a woman like you could make him feel so selfless.

Aemond knew nothing of you but felt everything. He needn’t understand the pieces of you to feel the rewards of lust and anger spilling out of him.

His mouth is so warm and wet. Aemond’s tongue danced with yours as your whimpers became gasps with the jacking of his hips into you. Your hands are bruising on his shoulders; grip tight and breaking had you been a stronger woman.

Aemond broke his kisses and moved his hand to your neck. His thumb put pressure on the bottom of your chin, pushing your head backwards and sending your spine arching.

If he took you any further, you’d split yourself in too. You mewled in pleasure and he let out a low chuckle, eyes low and observing as he pounded his cock in your pussy faster.

“Oh,” one of your arms shot up above your head and he took his other hand, the one not on your neck, and intertwined your hands together.

“Do the others fuck you like this?” He hummed.

“No,” you called into the air. “Not everyone is as good as you, My Prince.”

As your eyes met his, you felt your heart exploding. No one would ever hold you like this again. No one would know you in the secrets you shared here—so open and viewable yet shroud in the comfort of veils.

You like this. He knows you do. And fuck, he does too.

“You like being held like a worthy lady,” Aemond purred. “Like you’re not a whore.”

“You like being strong when they underestimate you.”

His hand around your throat tightened but didn’t suffocate you. Aemond’s fingers that intertwined with your own stayed together as he changed his speed. Slowing down and drawing his dick out to the tip and stuffing you again, he snickered.

“You are not weak.”

“No,” he narrowed his eye. “I’m not.”

“In here,” you groaned. “In here you can be anyone, Aemond.”

He knew it to be true.

Instead of responding with a smart retort or a scathing comment that would rival one of his brothers, he nodded his head and let it fall in the crook of your neck.

Within you, his solemn romanticism built a fire. It was aching; clenching your walls around him as your breaths became more heated and laced with a finish. His skin on yours glistened with sweat the more strenuous your meetings became.

You were holding onto a thin string when he lifted his head again and planted a kiss on your lips.

So personal, so intimate from what you were used to.

“I-“ you barely got a syllable out before your body shook with your orgasm hitting you like a brick through a glass window. Aemond removed his hand on your neck to grip your back as your body lifted from the sheets.

Your cunt had his cock in a vice. So tight and smooth with your wetness, he felt the stuttering sensation of his own building in a quick anticipation and as the shaking in your legs began to lessen, he pulled out of your pussy without warning and pumped himself before spilling his spent on your stomach.

Your eyes saw stars on the ceiling of the brothel. Aemond kissed between your breath as his fingers swiped through his cum. He drew a line from your stomach, between your breasts, and to your lips. You took his fingers covered in him into your mouth and licked him clean.

Once there was nothing left, his wet fingers palmed your breast with a sigh. You untangled your combined fingers and gingerly outlined the bottom of his scar.

He leaned into your touch absentmindedly before eagerly kissing you again.

Aemond would never confess why he did it.

It was an urge he had never felt; built in the emotions of his mind as he was wrapped in your kind embrace and away from the world that had created the cruelness that lived with him. You were not cruel. You were good and a sanctimonious creature at his alter of wavering faith.

You revived him.

And he barely knew you.

When he pulled away, you brushed a hand over his disheveled hair and smiled.

The feeling within him was foreign but it was hungry. He hungered for the bubbled nature of want that brewed in his bones. Aemond sought the feel of your hands on him and the way you settled in his motions without complaint or verbally assuring him what he was doing was “good for him,” when in reality, he knew it was not.

So in turn, when you smiled, so did he.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Genshin Impact) Giving Headpats to Furina, Lynette, Arlecchino, Chiori, Lumine, Jean, Eula, Noelle, Ayaka, Sara, Yae, Shenhe, and Xianyun

No one requested this, as for the reason this post exists, the only thing I can give you is this image:

Furina freezes up the moment she feels S/O's hand pick up her hat, only to ruffle her hair.

She squawks for just a moment, quickly blushing and pouting as Furina yanks her hat down.

(Furina) "D-Don't just start patting me out of nowhere!"

Crossing her arms, she looks away, trying to not look bothered about the whole affair.

She finds it highly embarrassing. At least in public.

The moment they're alone and she feels their hand, she closes her eyes and completely relaxes, humming in content.

There's still a blush on her, but it's far more subdued unless S/O starts teasing her about it.

Lynette does not like just anyone rubbing her head due to her cat-like features.

In public, the top of her head in general is completely off limits.

But if it's just her and S/O at home, then she allows it.

In fact, when S/O's hand starts petting her head, she leans into them completely as her eyes close, just like an actual cat.

Her ears twitch a little, but her tail swishes left and right happily.

If they stop too early, Lynette's eyes slowly open and looks at them expectantly.

(Lynette) "...Why did you stop?"

Feeling the warm of their hand allowed Lynette to rest comfortably, and to space out to her heart's content.

Arlecchino did the same thing to comfort many of the children at the Hearth.

Yet she didn't know what to do when S/O did the same, feeling her hair slightly ruffled.

If her S/O was taller (in which case "Dude, you look huge"), she really wouldn't comment on the height difference, but if they were shorter, THEN she'd be surprised they would even attempt it.

Arlecchino doesn't care if it's in private or public, but she would care if they did so in front of her kids.

Because then they'd see that she has someone that can make her comfortable too, which in turn makes them happy.

Seeing their father cared for puts them at ease, making Arlecchino thankful in her own way.

But as for the action itself: she would just talk to them in her usual tone, though with a bit of a "threat" lying underneath.

(Arlecchino) "Did you wish for me to pat your head too, S/O? I might be rougher with you than the others."

Chiori raises an eyerbrow.

(Chiori) "S/O, what are you doing?"

Once they explain themselves, Chiori can't help roll her eyes.

(Chiori) "Did you expect me to get all flustered from that? Psh, it'll take a little more than messing up my hair to do that. Speaking of which, can you fix it for me? I'm a little busy here."

She finds it cute, yeah, but it's not that big of a deal.

Plus, she finds it weird.

Who just goes around, patting their girlfriends' heads unprompted?

Oh well, it's not like this was particularly harmful, so Chiori lets it slide.

But if they do that in front of customers or in public, S/O is dead.

Lumine's body stiffens when S/O's hand ruffles her hair lovingly, before she quickly giggles.

(Lumine) "Hey, stand still!"

She quickly does the same back, though her retaliation is far more playful and destructive.

S/O's hair is an absolute mess now, Lumine giving a cheeky grin back.

(Lumine) "There, now you look better than before!"

It does not take long for the situation to quickly devolve into a tickle fight with both of them on the bed laughing.

Jean takes a moment to register what S/O is doing, but after a few seconds she smiles.

Jean lets her shoulders drop, feeling more at ease by the second.

So this is how Barbara and Klee felt when she did the same.

(Jean) "Your hand feels quite nice, S/O..."

She doesn't realize her own flushed cheeks as her vision becomes slightly hazed with her affection.

If anything, she feels a little sad everytime they pull back.

It was such a relaxing sensation, and honestly made her feel a little sleepy.

Eula's head feels a bit colder to the touch, but her body is rapidly heating up, especially her face.

(Eula) "What do you think you're doing, S/O?"

Hearing their answer, Eula pauses for a moment before responding.

(Eula) "Next time, you should ask for permission instead of rubbing my hair like I'm some sort of child...I don't recall asking you to stop either."

In classic Eula fashion, she doesn't tell them directly that she loves the feeling of their hands.

But she'd be damned if she was going to admit something so embarrassing.

Noelle feels a mixture of pride and embarrassment everytime S/O pats her on the head.

On one hand it felt quite nice, and the gesture was very sweet!

But it made her feel a little childish.

She never voiced her latter feelings aloud, because it still made her flustered all the same.

(Noelle) "A-Ah...Um, thank you, S/O...!"

It made her want to do her best everytime just so she could receive such affection, and made sure to do it back to them!

But with her strength, she accidentally completely dishevels their hair.

Before promptly fixing it in nearly an instant with her skills as a dutiful maid!

Ayaka exhales deeply, any words she had completely fading away in bliss.

These were the kinds of moments Ayaka longed for, to simply share affection with a lover of her own.

It made her feel quite normal as opposed to the prim and proper noblewoman she was forced to be.

(Ayaka) "If I may be selfish for a moment, might I ask for you to continue...?"

She'd be a little embarrassed asking for more, but her shame vanishes the moment she feels their hand on her head again.

Ayaka is too shy to initiate the headpatting on her own, most of the time having her hand almost reach her S/O's head before pulling away last second.

Sara flinches and leans away from S/O on instinct.

(Sara) "What are you-...M-My apologies, I was just not expecting you to..."

Her hand fidgets for a moment before Sara lets out a sigh.

(Sara) "If you wanted to touch my hair, you can just ask."

Now that she was actually ready for S/O, she enjoyed the feeling of their fingers brushing against her hair.

It was relaxing as she let down her guard and enjoyed the physical affection.

Needless to say, Sara absolutely did not want S/O to do this in public.

Seeing Inazuma's general get pat on the head so lovingly would obliterate her image.

Yae smirks as she leans her head closer to them, not saying a word at first.

Her ears twitch for just a moment as she opens her mouth to speak.

(Yae) "Well, does my hair feel nice, S/O?"

And before S/O knows it, her tail wrapped around their waist before bringing them closer and her the back of her head is resting on their lap.

Yae's hand waves nonchalantly, and her tone growing increasingly ever more teasing.

(Yae) "I expect to be pampered properly, S/O. You can't leave a job half-finished after all!"

Now, Yae expects S/O to tend to her hair, in public or private, she doesn't really care.

As long as there were some good reactions from S/O both was fine, though in public tended to provide the funniest result.

...Oh, and their hands did feel nice. But she'd figure it'd be more entertaining to let S/O figure that one out themselves.

Shenhe knows this feeling well.

Cloud Retainer did the same thing whenever she meant to comfort her.

And of course, the feeling is much of the same when S/O does it to her.

WIth zero shame or hesitation, she closes her eyes and the corners of her lips grow into some semblance of a smile.

(Shenhe) "Your hands are soft, S/O...They feel good."

Instead of leaning into them, she grabs their entire arm and has their hand stay stuck in place.

But Shenhe is careful enough to not hurt them during the process.

She opens her eyes and calmly asks them:

(Shenhe) "Can you keep your hand in place for a little longer?"

Xianyun had provided much of the same comfort to all her disciples before.

But never has anyone attempted to pat her head.

So when she feels S/O's hands do the same motion, she is stunned for a few moments.

Clearing her throat and adjusting her glasses, she puts on the best poker face she can.

(Xianyun) "W-Why did you feel the need to rub One's head, One is not feeling upset."

...The blush on her cheeks gave her feelings completely away, if the stutter didn't already do that.

Xianyun is far too proud to admit that headpat made her heart skip, and she would refuse to ever do so.

A mortal patting an Adeptus' head? Absolutely ridiculous!

...She wanted S/O to do that again.

[scoutswritingcorner]

Can I request Hazbin Hotel characters reacting to an artist!reader that draws a lot but never shows anyone their work but one day accidentally left it out and their partner finds it and sees several sketches and finished drawings of them? Sorry if it’s an odd ask, I’m an artist and I thought it would be a cute idea I don’t see nearly enough, it’s okay if you can’t. Thank you either way!!!

Artist Rendition

Hazbin Gang x GN!Reader

TW:A little flirty with Angel’s reaction. Other than that none!

A/N: Not an odd request at all, Friend! For Angel’s part I did write for a male Reader and Fem Reader for Vaggie! KINDA SHORT I APOLOGIZE FRIEND!

-🦌Alastor🦌-

-🦌 Alastor was very curious to see you carry a sketchbook around all the time. He wanted to pry so badly.

-🦌 But he didn’t, he simply ignored the book and only ever asked about it if you were near him. You always get flustered and hide the book even further. Oh now he’s wondering what kind of dark secrets you have in there~

-🦌 But to his surprise when he finds it open and on a page, he sees drawings of him, he carefully flips the page and sees a half down sketch of him sitting in front of the fireplace.

-🦌 Oh boy you just made his ego inflate and his undead heart soar to new heights. His tail starts wagging and that’s the only way someone can catch how happy he is.

-🦌 Now? He’s going to poke a little fun at you, “My Dear, if you had to pick anyone in the hotel to be your muse who would it be?” 

-🦌 Silly deer man loves you and your abilities, he often tells you that your work needs to be displayed in a museum.

-🍎Lucifer🍎-

-🍎 Oh boy- when he finds out you can draw? Oh he gets super excited and asks if you can draw him a duck- even if it’s a little doodle! He doesn’t care!

-He doesn’t really ask or pry into your hobby much but he will admit he does want to see what you draw.

-When he does see that you drew him of all people he gets all flustered and he’s prideful cause his partner?? His darling little angel drew him?!?

-He will volunteer to pose for you, he’s used to sitting still for hours on end! 

-He will even pose naked if you want him to! Just say the word and he’ll drop his clothes right there.

-🎰Husk🎰-

-🎰 He watched you sit at the bar and draw to your heart's content and never really commented on it.

-🎰 When he does peek into your sketchbook it’s to pull behind the bar into a safe place so nothing ruins your work.

-🎰That’s when he notices the drawings and doodles of him and his tail curls happily. The way you captured him doing menial tasks sends his heart into overdrive.

-🎰 You were too good for him, damn it. The next time you find it? It has a little sticky note on the cover of your sketchbook and it has a little drawing of you with a small message, “Had to go out with Alastor. Love you, Dollface.” 

-🕷️ Angel Dust 🩷-

-🕷️ Oh this man- he loves it! You’re an artist and he’s also like an artist! But of a very very different genre.

-🩷 He also doesn’t pry much as he understands privacy. He wants to give you that as much as he can since he doesn’t get much of it.

-🕷️ Once he finds out you draw him? He’s over the fucking moon cause his man? His precious boyfriend draws him! 

-🩷Expect him to start flirting more and more but with art related flirts. “Come on, Suga’~ Draw me like one of your french girls~” im sorry. He’s very supportive!

-👑Charlie👑-

-👑 oh this baby girl..she’s been so busy lately that if she did notice it completely slipped her mind!

-👑 But when she finds your sketchbook? She gets super excited cause you draw this good?? She’s so proud that she immediately goes to find you!

-👑 She is another who fully supports you! You need anything, don't hesitate to ask!

-👑 Will try to convince you to start painting for the hotel! You can say no it won’t offend her.

-🎀Vaggie🎀-

-🎀 Much like Husk she won’t point it out or comment on it.

-🎀Will find out you draw her when she sees it when cleaning up and gets all blushy cause this is how you see her?

-🎀 Comes clean immediately about seeing your drawings and tells you how amazing they are.

-🎀 Shyly asks if she can pose for you next time, how could you say no to her?

[buzzinrusso]

7+2 - Leah Williamson

Genre :fluff

Prompt: seven times where you and Leah had to hide your relationship, and two times where you didn't care.

(Hiding it.)1.

You and Leah were having a very chill night at your house .

By chill you mean turning on a movie and then proceeding to ignore the said movie and make out with your girlfriend.

That's why you were startling her lap with your mouths connected perfectly in a very intimate kiss, her hand were slowly guiding your hips to grind against her own.

You groaned when the door bell rang, you hated having to be separated from your current position on top of your girlfriend.

"Ignore it, it'll go away. " you mumbled as Leah tangled her hand in your Mid-lengh, brunette hair.

You let out an annoyed sigh as rung the person rung the bell rapidly. "Go see who it is, maybe they'll leave earlier. "

You frustratingly got up from her lap, letting out an annoyed sigh as you made your way to the door to shoo away who you assumed was a person who had the wrong address.

Imagine the surprised look on your face when your opened the door with a huff, ready to tell someone off , only to find your arsenal teammates at the door.

Beth, Viv, Kim, Katie, manu, and Lina,your new teammate were all at the door.

"Oh! Hey guys! " you said extra loud so that Leah could hear you. "What are you doing here? "

"Team bonding. Did you not see the chat?"Beth said while pacing her way into your living room followed by the rest of the team.

"Hiya" Leah said as the team approached where she was sat. You let out a sigh of relief as you noticed that she had managed to remove all the romantic things that were set up, candles, flowers, etc..

"Leah? What are you doing g here? "

"Uh, I thought I'd come early to help her , you know? " Leah stammered on her words, eyes nervously shifting between you and the girls who all took seats.

"Yeah, she actually came in just a few minutes before you guys. "

2.

"So, Leah, " Amanda started with a grin "you seem really happy. "

"Uh yeah, of course I am. " Leah nodded "physio is going great and I'll be back on the pitch in no time. "

"Yeah, that great! But I meant to ask you if you were seeing someone. "

"Mum, I wasn't seeing someone last week, or the week before that, and I'm not seeing someone now. " Leah stated firmly. It was clearly a lie.

"Okay, I was just asking. " her mother shrugged with a knowing smile on her face. "But if you were seeing someone, you would tell me, right? "

"Of course I would mum. "

That was the end of their conversation about relationship, the rest of night was filled with talks of football, life, etc... With Leah, of course, sending you messages every now and then.

3.

You were out on a girls night with you university friends, you went to Cambridge University and there you had met one of your many friends, Eva.

It was about 11pm when you and Eva were left in the corner with your friends Amy and Charlie , conversations sparked up about Amy's latest hookup / situationship which caused everyone to start talking about their significant other.

Your lips turned slightly upwards as you thought about your girlfriend. You had come to the conclusion last night that you and Leah were meant to be. It was a late night , you and Leah were laying in bed , not doing anything and just talking. The moment you realized that you were meant to be was when Leah broke out into uncontrollable laughter at a story you told, and then proceeded to tell a story of her own while you just stared at her in admiration.

"What about you babes? You seem awfully happy, have you got a special someone these days? " Charlotte asked while wiggling her brows teasingly at you.

"No, not really. " you kept your reply short and simple , not giving anyone any room to suspect anything else.

Except for Eva.

She knew you inside out.

Your phone pinged.

𝑬𝒗𝒂

Lair. 😉😉

𝒀𝒐𝒖

I'll talk to you later, don't worry

4.

"Come on, let's go. " Leah grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the training grounds to the car.

The action made you both get looks from your teammates, who were still in the dark about your one year relationship.

"Why are you leaving together? By the way, this isn't the first time you both came in the same car, or left together. " Beth pointed out abruptly interrupting the loud chatter happening around you in the locker room.

You quickly said the first thing that came to you head.

"Of course we do Beth, her house is about two minutes away from mine, why waste my gas when I can waste hers? " Beth, viv , Jen , and lia erupted into quite laughter at your rusher out words as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, as did Leah.

5.

You were getting ready for an event that you and Leah were invited to by sponsors, you were putting on a black fitted long dress that compliments your body's curves perfectly and Leah just couldn't keep her hands off of you.

"Leah seriously, don't start anything you can't finish. " you mumbled as Leah wrapped her arms around your waist and started kissing down your neck and then her hands started to move up from your waist to the rest of your body.

"Who says I can't finish. " it was more of a statement than a question as she continued to kiss down from your neck to your shoulder blades.

"Leah, seriously. We can't be late. " you gently pushed Leah off making her let out a quite whine.

For privacy reasons (keeping your relationship a secret) you and Leah decided to leave in different cars, not In Leah's car as you usually would, meaning you had to leave now, meanwhile Leah had to leave in about 10 minutes so you would arrive at separate times to not raise suspicions.

So, as you tried to leave because your assignee driver was waiting g outside, Leah was still in the middle of applying her finishing touches.

"Ughhh, babyyy, please , one minute. "

"Leah Mr. Adams is honking and waiting for me, I can't be any later than I already am. " you hated to do this but it was all worth it when le walked into the room while you were sitting in the corner with Alex Scott.

The suit she was wearing looked spectacular on her, and it quite literally took your breath away.

Thought you and Leah couldn't physically interact that much during the night, the stolen looks and kisses in the bathroom certainly made up for it.

6.

The stadium erupted as the ball sailed into the back of the net. Your arsenal teammates ran to you to celebrate you game winning goal.

Leah was the first to get there and she immediately launched her entire body weight onto you as you happily let her arms and legs wrap around your body as she repeatedly kissed your forehead and as much as you wanted to kiss her, you knew you couldn't.

With your teammates watching and a very large fandom watching from both inside and outside of the stadium, you knew you certainly could not do what you 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 wanted to do.

You have now grew to hate the fact that you and Leah were forced to hide your relationship, but Leah, as always, promised that you both would go public soon, it wasn't really for the clout, as people would assume. You just really wanted to show her off and hold her hand in public and in front of your friends.

You really did not care what people think of you two to get her, as long as you guys were content and happy, you didn't mind any of the hate you would receive.

But, as you and Leah said, you would wait a couple of months until the right moment to tell everyone.

7.

Your teammates were starting to speculate.

Beth was 100% sure that she saw the both of you kissing, which was true but you were a good enough liar to convince her that she was imaging stuff from how Drunk She was.

Everyone ha their own theory and it was getting a bit annoying to keep hiding your relationship.

You and Leah have had fights about this, but in the end you both came to the same conclusion that you needed to reveal your relationship.

You didn't care how you would do it, you just had to do it.

But, you were doing it after the euros, so both you and Leah could focus on your respective national teams. You, with the Spanish team and Leah with the lionesses.

Leah, obviously, knew about the situation at the Spanish camp so she made sure to call you every night.

It was the little things she does that made you fall more and more in love with her, and her little messages every now and then were really reassuring to you.

At the end, you knew that life would always lead you back to Leah, one way or another.

1.(the times where you didn't care.)

You were a sobbing mess on the field after the whistle blew, officially knocking your team out of the euros.

Instead of celebrating, Leah immediately made her way to you ,kneeling down in front of you and holding your head in her hands as she wiped the tears off of your red face.

"It's fine my love, I'm so sorry. You'll be fine. " she whispered timidly into your ear as you were still crying.

"Can you do one this for me, por favor? " you asked in between breathes. Leah quickly nodded, ready to do anything to help you calm down. "Kiss me? "

Without hesitation, Leah leaned in and connected your lips into the most perfect, magical kiss.

Your lips moulded perfectly together, as you both blocked out the sounds around you, only focusing on each other for the moment as your lips moved in sync almost too well.

Her hands had subconsciously moved to hold your cheeks and pull you in closer, the heated moment then got interrupted by Beth yelling in both of your ears as she ran towards Leah just as she pulled away.

"WHAT THE FUCK?I KNEW IT! " She pulled you and Leah up and planted your feet onto the field as she pulled both of you into a big hug .

Just as she pulled away, you got pulled I to multiple other hugs by both of your international teammates, all of them wishing well for both you and Leah.

2.

"Mum, this is my girlfriend, y/n."each said nervously to her mother as this was her fist time introducing you to each other.

"Girlfriend? Well isn't this lovely! " instead of shaking your extended hand, she pulled you in for a bone crushing hug that you gladly accepted as you were used to this kind of welcome in your home county.

"Come in, come in! "

Later that night at dinner, the questions began rolling in.

"So y/n, how serious are you about my Leah?" Amanda asked tentatively.

"I am very serious about her, I love her more than anything in the world. "

"When did you and Leah get together? "

"We have been together for about a year and three months "

"That long?! And you didn't tell me? " the last question was directed at her daughter.

"We weren't ready yet. " Leah replied immediately. She was heavily nervous for this day since it was planned.

"Why didn't you tell anyone about his sooner? Are you ashamed of my daughter? "

"mum ! We both agreed on this, it want just her. We didn't want to be in the spotlight. " Leah quickly jumped in to defend you against her mother's accusations.

Amanda raised her hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, sorry, I was just making sure. " she gave you a pointed look, you k ew exactly what it meant

It was the typical "don't you dare hurt my daughter " look.

You gave her a firm nod and a tight lipped smile as a response.

It was safe to day that the rest of the night went perfectly well, with Leah's mum giving in slowly to your Spanish charm, and accepting that you were going to be a permanent factor in Leah's life.

[obsessiveloveistheonlylove]

Hey, I've read your last yandere Bruce, neglected fam reader and it gave me an idea. What if instead of the reader wasting all that money or luxury, she saved most of it in a closed account and when Bruce bought the apartment she made him sign it in her name as a plan to when the right time comes or if she needs to, she will sell the apartment and use all the money she saved to leave to start over in another country. Imagine Bruce finding out when she reaches the point where she put her apartment for sale, or better, actually selling it to a friend or someone they know and actually leaving.

Yan!batfam with neglected!sister reader leaving the state/country

Anon your mind is fucking golden! I also thought of the reader having the apartment signed in her name just because Bruce wanted her to feel comfortable but I love the layers this adds.

Hopefully these couple of hcs are good enough while I work on pt 2. Also if anyone else has any questions about any other scenarios or certain characters feel free to send them in I'll try to respond whenever I have time and I write for any gender reader.

Word count ; 1073

Unedited

___

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ bruce is not happy with this turn of events at all. He wasn't expecting nor did he sense that this was going to happen, you didn't post about it or even reference moving on any of your social media apps which he lovingly stalks watches over to make sure you are content with your life and also because he likes seeing you happy and enjoying all the things he got you. And it hurts him a little that you didn't even say something to him … he knows you don't owe him that, not when your relationship is still in a fragile state but he's trying.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ he only figures out after someone in the fam(most likely dick) broke in dropped by your apartment and likely scared one of your friends shitless.. obviously both parties are shocked but your friend more so as they don't know who the hell just broke into their house, dick is shocked when this random person claims that he's trespassing in their home. After that awkward situation dick immediately reports back to Bruce about this over the comms and with some digging from Tim they're able to find out that you had sold the house and the exact date that you had, approximately a month ago. That sends off alarm bells for the entire batfam, where are you now?! It takes an hour or so of searching to find out exactly where you moved and when they do they can't decide what to do with the information.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Alfred is the voice of reason in this family, he discourages the batboys from immediately doing everything in their power to bring you home, he advocated for you to live wherever you choose and says that it's your life and that the family cannot choose for you. Alfred loves you dearly you are basically his child he views you the way he views Bruce. He may be a yandere but he's a selfless one he truly only has your best interest in mind. His words are like a slap of reality for some of the Batfam mainly Tim, Steph and Jason all three of then become a lot more hesitant to go through with their plans to bring you home on the other hand dick, bruce, and damian are adamant that you aren't safe unless they can be nearby.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Nobody can come to a decision the night they find out and so they decide to sleep on it until they can come to an agreement the manor will be tense for a week or two at most before they spring into action, they will all eventually cave to their selfish needs even if some feel guilty for doing it. Alfred will sigh disappointedly but ultimately allow them to go through with their plans he only hopes you can forgive him for not doing more

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you on the other hand will be left unaware to all that's going down you'd gotten a new phone and lived in a whole new state maybe even country! They couldn't bother you here. You were happier than you have been for a long time. Even if you missed your old friends you still tried to keep in touch over the phone.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ as for why you did this? It's likely the other batboys' faults, Bruce is annoying but he's not nearly as demanding of your time as the others, namely dick. Dick is insanely clingy once you're on his radar and he becomes aware of how much his neglect affected you mentally. The guilt for him was all consuming when he found out how much he hurt you and that he neglected you for quite literally no reason, you just didn't matter to him at the time. the thought now makes him sick, of course you matter, what the hell was his problem!! Dick would have constantly broke your boundaries by hugging and touching and cuddling you he feels like he needs to make it up to you by being a good big brother, even if that's not what you need anymore after all it's far too late you're already an adult but he refuses to see it that way you're still his baby sister. He inserts himself into your life constantly and even if he'll pay for things he'll only do so under the circumstances that the money be spent ‘together’ like sure he'll take you to that fancy restaurant but it's going to be made into a sister-brother bonding moment, like yeah he'll let you use his card to go shopping but only if he's going with you. Even if you don't use him for money he will still find ways to insert himself into your life. He's overwhelmingly intense and his behavior mixed with the other overbearing members in the batfam plus the added overwhelming feelings of having people who ignored you all your life suddenly want your time and attention is probably why you felt like you had to leave.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you won't be gone for more than a month or two before your dragged back to Gotham and back to your family, only this time you've got a metaphorical collar around your neck as now you're likely brought back to the manor always under surveillance and on the off chance you're still allowed to own your own apartment again just know it will be heavily bugged along with your phone courtesy of Tim even if he feels bad about invading your privacy he knows they need to see your texts to make sure you're not planning to leave Gotham again. Oh and now the bat members will each take turn patrolling your house and following you from the shadows to make sure you're safe.

___

All in all I'd say you'll have your fun for a little while but ultimately you'll just drive them deeper in their obsession and they will likely kidnap and bring you home.

[jinxs-gf]

snack thief

the team x spider!reader

summary: someone is stealing your snacks and you’re going to figure out who.

content, warnings: kind of a crack fic, spider cusses a lot? not proofread

word count: 1.8k

a.n. Aunt May mentioned! who cheered?

It was peaceful in the confines of Mount Justice. So peaceful it was almost suspicious to the team. They barely get downtime nowadays, something they used to practically beg for. Now all they want is a break.

It's perfect and quiet and peaceful.

Until they hear their friend scream bloody murder.

Spider.

Everyone jumps up, alarmed and ready to fight.

You're in the kitchen holding an empty container, the refrigerator wide open, and looking more stressed out than they've ever seen you. But there was no threat?

The team is still worried but confused. There was no one else in the kitchen with you so...? Why were you screaming? And there was seemingly no spider on the container you were holding, the only creature that could scare you bad enough for you to freak out like this. (You denied this claim again and again, unfortunately they didn't believe you. How embarrassing was that? Spider had arachnophobia? How damaging to your reputation.)

You continue to stare at the container, and your friends have concluded their near heart attack at your cry for help was all for not.

Their shoulders all sag simultaneously, breaths of relief leaving their mouths.

Kaldur is the first to speak, "What has gotten into you, Spider? You scared us all." He does not sound happy.

And if you took the time to look at the rest of your teammates, the annoyance would be evident.

But no. You continued to stare at your stupid container.

"Hello!" - Artemis

"Earth to Spider!" - Robin

"We're not getting any younger over here." - Wally

Roy only sighs, shaking his head, Conner raising a brow beside him, amused for the most part.

M'gann just stands quietly, wondering if she should read your mind without your permission to figure out the problem or not.

"Which one of your imbeciles did this?" Your voice was eerily calm...it was disturbing.

They all shared the same sentiment. What?

You glare in their direction, eyeing each one of your supposed friends carefully.

"One of you is the cause of this," you hold up your empty container. "Someone ate my cookies. I've had the worst day of my life and the only thing that could help was having my precious cookies. Only I get here and they're gone!" Ah. They get it now.

"I'm going to find out which one of you is responsible. And it won't be pretty."

"Uhh why was it in the fridge anyways?"

"Shut it Robin. They’re leftovers. And you’re at the top of my suspect list. You and your little buddy there," you eye Wally.

He squirms in his spot.

You were grocery shopping for your aunt when you spotted them.

Spider-Person gummies.

You wince, the name Spider-Person did not roll off the tongue correctly. You prefer Spider like the team calls you. Or maybe Arachnid would be cool? Oh well, it's too late now. The name Spider-Person was plastered onto kid's snacks for Pete's sake! There was no coming back from that.

Whatever. You threw it in your basket and immediately opened the box when you got home. Showing off to Aunt May, she was very proud, just like you thought she’d be. Except for when—

"I always thought you'd be known for curing diseases or something, but children’s snacks? This'll do!"

"Hey!" She was joking of course (right?).

And later that day you brought it to the team's kitchen, wanting to show off to them. You didn't want them to eat it of course, it was going to be your post-mission snack. A little pick-me-up.

No one but Red Tornado was there, which was a little weird but it was a rare day off. You'll just come back when everyone is here.

You made sure to stick a post-it on the box of gummies, effectively claiming them yours that shall not be touched.

You hadn't left your snacks alone in the kitchen of Mount Justice since your cookies disappeared a mere week ago.

You still hadn't figured out who the culprit was.

You will. One of these days.

You leave and don't come back until the next day, everyone is there.

"Oh goodie! I have something to show you guys!"

Only you get to the kitchen cabinet, open the box, and...no.

Nonononono

The box of "Spider-Person Gummies" was completely empty.

The box that clearly had your name written with the words "DO NOT EAT!" on the post-it!

You scream like the first time.

"Who did it?!"

The team is a little slower this time around, not trusting your panicked screams after the first incident.

Robin face palms, "Come on spider, it's not that serious."

You gape at him, "Not that serious?! Are you crazy?!" You eye him suspiciously, "it was you, wasn't it?"

"What?! No! I'm just being reasonable here. You can always buy more,” he shrugs, clearly not seeing the bigger picture. Someone is eating your snacks without permission. Deliberately ignoring your name that was written in bold on the post-it stuck to the front. You try a different approach though.

"First of all, I don't exactly come from a background of money. I can't just waste valuable green for some fruit snacks! And second, it was the last box in that section. How do I know they'll be restocked by the time I get back? What if they were there for limited time?!" The thought terrifies you, "oh no."

The team watches you nearly have a breakdown over your gummies "...those snacks are usually less that 10 dollars, Spider."

"And that's too much!"

"You can't be that poor."

"Eh, you'd be surprised."

It’s a full two weeks of the snack thief’s attacks.

Your spidey senses go off at the two week mark and they lead you to the kitchen.

You gasp.

"You!"

Wally is caught mid slice into the chocolate cake you made for the team, he looks petrified at being caught.

His voice cracks, "what?"

"It's been you! I knew it was you!"

"What! No! You made this for the team, right? That's not fair to pin the blame on me when I have permission to eat this!"

Okay, he's got a point.

"Whatever. You're still at the top of my list."

You’re in stealth mode with the rest of the team, waiting for your cue to attack.

You communicate through the mind link to keep yourself from boredom, this is gonna take a while.

You decide to bring up the most recent snack attack.

‘I still need to figure out who this snack thief is. They took my leftover brownies this time! The ones May made for me. Do you know how upsetting it was to see the brownies made by my very precious, hardworking Aunt all gone?’

You hoped to weed the rat out through sympathy.

‘Oh...that was yours?’

‘M'gann!’

‘I'm sorry! I didn't know!’

Just then, Kaldur makes your cue to attack. And before you know it, you’re in battle. However, your mind is elsewhere.

The distraction earns you a kick to the face, your spidey senses were screaming but you couldn't be bothered to really care at the moment, too focused on the fact that M'gann admitted to eating your brownies.

She's the snack thief?! But she was at the bottom of your list...

You regret ignoring your senses immediately, that kick was more powerful that you thought it’d be. Definitely going to bruise later.

‘I'm not the snack thief! I just thought Red Tornado left them! Remember? He said he wanted to be more involved with us outside of missions? I swear I know better! You forgot a post-it with your name this time. I'm really sorry, I should've known.’

You sigh, she sounds too sincere for it to truly be her.

‘It's alright, I forgive you. This time. It was my bad anyways.’

There’s many instances of coincidences as your friends would call it.

Robin caught digging into your chips;

“But you said I could have some!”

“No not those ones! My other chips!”

“Wow, thanks for specifying that.”

Conner caught…eating your candy?!

Conner doesn’t even eat sweets like that, so what changed? Or was that all a ploy? Pretending to not be fond of sweets only to eat yours behind your back…

But his eyes pleaded forgiveness, truth. Damn him.

Roy, Kaldur, and Artemis also had their moments of suspicion.

So who was it?

You only had one more course of action. You beg May to let her borrow your phone.

“It’s an emergency!”

“An emergency that could last all day? Or more?” She lifts a brow, don’t let her intimidate you, Spider.

“Pleeeaaaase,” you bat your lashes at her.

She can’t resist you. The child she’s come to see as her own. You are hers, no one could tell her otherwise. She sighs, “Don’t know why I even try with you.”

“Thanks May!” You plant a kiss on her cheek, “love you!”

“Whatever kid,” trying not to show disappointment in herself for allowing you to get to her.

Set your phone up in the kitchen cabinet of Mount Justice with your snack. Hit FaceTime with Aunt May’s phone and accept on yours.

There’s no way you don’t catch your thief now.

~~

You wait a good 20 minutes before you’re already tired of your plan.

You groan in annoyance, can they hurry up and attempt to take your snack already?!

It takes another three hours before something happens.

Your spidey senses blare, making you jump from your place on the couch with Artemis and Roy. They look at you like you’re crazy, yeah you were getting used to that.

There’s shuffling on the other end of the call.

Whoever is in the kitchen is toast. You look down at May’s phone.

“You!”

“Uh oh.”

“I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it! From the beginning! How could I be so stupid and not listen to my gut?!”

Wally states back at you through the phone screen, eyes wide.

“You lying son of a-”

“Listen, we can talk this out-”

“Put my cookies down! You know damn well my name is written on the box!”

He surrenders, placing the cookies back in its place.

The rest of your team came out to witness this very amusing and long awaited moment.

It was funny, the living room you were in was right next to the kitchen, meaning speaking through the phones was pretty useless. They won’t say anything, lest they catch your attention and get yelled at.

“I’m going to ruin you for what you did, Speedy Bitch.”

Roy hears his code name and it’s enough for him to scare. He holds his hands up, “whoa! What did I do?”

“Not you! Obviously not you!”

You get up from the couch, bolting to your “friend.”

Wally panics, “Someone call Superman! Spider’s gone crazy!” And he books it.

It’s okay. He may be the fastest man alive, but no one messes with a Spider’s food.

so who’s attending Wally’s funeral? definitely not spider.

this is based off a video I saw, someone’s sibling was on FaceTime w a phone in the cabinet to catch who was eating their snacks 💀 I just HAD to use it

[fireya-x]

family dinner

AO3 Link (for the full tag list) || masterlist

John asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night, to save himself from annoying questions from his family. Turns out, you're actually who he really wants.

[9k+ words]

cw: smut, piv sex, cowgirl, handjobs, come eating

Embossed golden script on cream white card paper - it was an invitation to his grandmothers' birthday party, alright. A subtle attempt at elegance from a woman who thought tea and a tin of biscuits solved most problems. John sighed.

He already knew the drill; his mother, every aunt and uncle, cousins and second cousins twice removed would be there, armed to the teeth with baby pictures and probing questions to make him wish he’d stayed in another country in some godforsaken warzone.

The phone ringing cut through John’s meager dinner of takeout curry, one of his favorites, when he was back in his flat for a short time leave. He picked it up and answered before checking, as he usually did, expecting it to be Laswell – but that voice wasn't Kate.

“Jonathan, my dear boy, did you receive the invitation?” His grandmother’s voice was a robust cackle for her age, a force of nature that kept her so fit at ninety.

“Just held it in my hands seconds ago, Nan.” 

“Ninety years young, can you believe it?”

“Never a dull moment,” he answered, picking at the takeaway container lid.

She laughed lightly, then cleared her throat. “Listen, dear. The caterer is extra fussy. Your opinion is special to me, you know that. It’s not like I get to plan this every day”

Here it comes.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m asking you what you want, John. I have everything else planned.” Of course she did. 

“It’s your birthday, Nan. I’ll eat anything,” he sighed. “Toffee pudding can’t be missing from any birthday, though.”

“Of course, that’s a must! Especially with you visiting! You’ve always loved it as a little boy. Now tell me, is your girl more a partial to fish or chicken?”

The fork clattered onto the styrofoam. John almost choked.

“You’ll be bringing someone, aren’t you?”

He should have said no. He should have clarified, for the thousandth time, that his occupation left no room for romantic walks on the beach and candlelit dinners. Maintaining relationships wasn’t something John did, especially when his job included more explosions than birthday candles on her birthday cake. And apparently, eliminating terrorists and global threats was not a suitable substitute for great-grandchildren.

But there was something in her voice. Hope? Excitement to finally see her grandson with a woman at his side? It was her 90th birthday, after all. Who knew how long John would have her still? Seeing him happy was the greatest gift he could give her, and he knew that.

John sighed. “Yes, I will bring someone.”

That she didn't squeal was unexpected, but he knew his mother was right there with her, listening to everything.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to do? Try Tinder, maybe? How hard could it be to find a woman who’d go on a date with him? But John hated every single aspect of using his phone for anything other than texting and calling — and he gave up when the app asked him too many questions about himself.

That’s when he heard footsteps outside his apartment. He remembered that beautiful, chatty neighbor of his. You'd watched his flat and watered his plants a few times when he was deployed. You’d only met briefly, but given John’s sparsely decorated way of living, he wasn’t worried you would steal anything. But his grandmother's plants were something holy to him, and you kept them alive, and that made you a trustworthy person in his book.

And he would be lying if he didn't admit he'd stolen a glance at you here and there, always hidden in a hoodie or a way-too-big raincoat that obscured your figure, and something about it intrigued him.

Before his brain could even process what his feet were doing, he stumbled to the front door and opened it, revealing you, arms full of groceries, struggling to get the key into the door.

“Need help with that?” A low, grumbling voice startled you, and you almost dropped the bag full of fruits and veggies.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

John chuckled, then took the bag from you as if it was something he'd casually do all the time. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, putting the key in the lock. You took the bag from him and wanted to escape this awkward situation with your way-too-good-looking neighbor as fast as possible. But before you could close the door, he intervened.

“Hey, uh, I have a question.” John’s hand ran through his hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed his usual confidence.

“Yes?”

“I – I kinda promised my grandma that I’d bring a girlfriend to her 90th birthday party, and, well –”

“You don’t have one?” The question came out sounding more shocked than you intended. You were certain he had women lining up for him.

“Yeah, I mean, no, I don’t.” His gaze dropped to the floor for a fleeting moment, as if suddenly embarrassed by the admission. You tilted your head, looking at him expectantly.

“So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? What’s in it for me?”

“Free fancy food?” He smiled crookedly, and you were done for. How could you say no to that smile? The same smile that had been haunting your thoughts ever since he’d given you his keys to his apartment? Your heart was pounding.

“It’s a date,” you said, the words slipping out before you could overthink it. The relief that flooded his eyes made something inside you flutter.

“Thank you, I owe you one. Six p.m. on Friday, alright?”

“What should I wear?”

John wasn’t prepared for that question. And he didn’t mean to check you out – but he did. His eyes wandered from your boots, over your hips, up to your breasts – where his gaze lingered a second too long— and then to your face.

“It’s a garden dinner. I’m sure you’ll look nice in anything,” he said, the words feeling ridiculously inadequate the moment they left his lips.

“Very helpful, thanks.” He braced himself for a sarcastic retort, but you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ll figure it out. Have a nice evening.”

You retreated to your apartment, leaning back against the closed door, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your heart was still pounding. Did John, your neighbor, ask you out? The same John who seemed so unapproachable, wrapped in that aura of intensity he always wore, who disappeared for weeks on end to go on “business trips” and returned with a deep shadow under those blue eyes? 

What did he even do when he disappeared? You'd never asked. Even when he'd given you his keys so you could look after his flat while he was gone, there was nothing that gave away what exactly he did or where he went.

The small conversations you’d shared had always been just that— small nothings, polite exchanges with your friendly neighbor. Still, those infrequent encounters always sent your stomach into a nervous frenzy. 

You rummaged through your closet, trying to find something that screamed “I'm a cool, collected woman who casually dates mysteriously handsome men ” without looking like you’d overdone it. A garden party could literally mean anything, especially since you knew nothing about his family. Were you supposed to pick a nice, flowing dress or stick with casual jeans and a shirt? You had no idea.

You stopped your mind from spiralling further. It wasn’t a real date. It was a fake date . 

What were you thinking, agreeing to this? You were doubting your own sanity — but then you remembered the crinkled corners of his eyes when he smiled, the warmth that radiated from him when he’d helped you with your groceries – saying “no” to him wasn’t even an option. There was something about him that drew you in, a gravitational pull you couldn’t resist, even if it meant playing pretend.

The sundress you wore – he couldn’t even pinpoint the colour, something soft and warm, summery, like the sky just before dusk – hugged your curves in all the right ways, the delicate straps showcasing the elegant line of your neck and collarbone. His gaze traced the gentle swell of your breasts beneath the thin fabric, the way the skirt flowed over your hips, his mind already picturing how it would look bunched up around your waist when –

Fuck.

A wave of heat - he knew it so well, yet hadn’t felt it in what seemed like forever - crashed over him, settled deep in his gut, tightening his muscles, making his cock twitch.

He shifted uncomfortably, desperately hoping you hadn’t noticed the way his pants suddenly felt about two sizes too small.

He’d usually never been one for flowery dresses and delicate gold jewellery like the earrings that decorated your ears. They clashed with the brutal reality of his world. But on you, it was devastating. You were an innocent, oblivious creature walking straight into his hardened, cynical world without even knowing it. And somehow, against all logic and years of self-preservation, he wanted to corrupt every part of you.

His gaze snapped to the flesh of your delicate thighs that left little to his imagination, those toned legs wrapped around his waist while he pulled you closer and –

Jesus fucking Christ, get a grip.

He forced himself to look away, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he’d pull a muscle.

This was his neighbour. You , who’d watered his plants, borrowed his toolbox, offered a smile whenever you met in the hallway. The one who’d agreed to this incredibly stupid idea. You were doing him a favour, for God’s sake.

“Ready?” He shoved the word out harsher than he’d intended, the sound completely alien to even his own ears. But before you could answer, he shut his door and ushered you towards the exit. He needed air. He’d preferred an ice bath, preferably yesterday.

You didn’t mind adapting to roles and play pretend at all, but as soon as you arrived at the estate, your confidence got humbled. The house was huge, and the driveway alone was already filled with floral arrangements and all sorts of birthday wishes – an enormous ninety made out of entirely blush pink roses and lavender decorated the front yard.

The garden party was in full swing already when you two arrived. The air buzzed with the sound of laughter and chatter, clinking glasses and the distant beat of a live band. John seemed oddly out of place in between the flowers and the brightly dressed guests, like a lone wolf who had been dragged to a tea party.

But as soon as you stepped further into the event, the warm air surrounding you, the scent of freshly cut grass and citrus, the smiling faces all around you, your anxiety about the whole thing lessened. 

“Don’t worry too much," John's arm brushed against yours as you navigated through the clusters of guests. He reached out to grab two drinks from a passing waiter’s tray. “The worst they could do is show you my childhood photos.”

He offered you a drink, and you took it from him, smiling. “Somehow, that’s not as reassuring as you think it is.” You earned yourself a deep chuckle that rumbled through his chest and did decidedly inappropriate things to your equilibrium.

When John took your free hand into his like it was the most normal thing in the world, you felt like this was going to be the easiest task. For a fleeting moment, it was easy to forget you were living a lie.

Until dinner.

The seating arrangements were strategically orchestrated, it seemed, to maximize family bonding - or torture, you hadn’t decided which. You found yourself sitting between John, radiating a mix of polite restraint and his usual natural intensity that set your pulse racing, and a woman with the same kind eyes as him.

“This is my mother, Eleanor,” John had introduced her earlier, her smile so warm and welcoming you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be playing a role. She seemed almost too impressed when you'd introduced yourself, as if she couldn't quite believe he was telling the truth about having a girlfriend. 

You'd prove them wrong, not for their sake, but for your own growing satisfaction at seeing John surprised.

You were no stranger to the barrage of questions about your single status and lack of a partner from your own family, so you knew how tiresome it could get. You braced yourself for a similar interrogation.

Across the table, John's grandma beamed at you with a delight that melted your heart. You understood then what this was all about for him — fulfilling his grandmother's wish to see him happy, settled.

On impulse, you reached out to grab John’s hand beside yours, your fingers threading through his, offering him a reassuring smile, pretending to bring out your best I-am-so-in-love look you could muster. 

He seemed taken aback, his entire body stiffening for a split second as if your touch were an electric shock. But then he recovered quickly, his fingers tightening around yours with a gentle pressure that sent goosebumps dancing up your arm. He raised your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles that lingered a heartbeat too long.

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze fixated on the curve of his lips, the way his beard scraped against your skin. Your stomach did a somersault, your senses flooded with a rush of longing that was as unexpected as it was undeniably thrilling.

“So,” John's aunt leaned across the table, her voice a bit too loud, as if intended to break the spell you’d fallen under. “What do you do?”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented, your gaze reluctantly leaving John’s hand and focusing on the plate of food a server had just placed before you. Shepherd's pie. But not just any shepherd’s pie. This looked like a culinary masterpiece compared to the frozen meals you were used to eating all the time.

“I work in healthcare,” you answered, your mouth already watering at the sight of the culinary heaven before you. “I’m an ER nurse.”

“Oh, wow,” his grandma chirped from across the table, her eyes twinkling with genuine interest. Her comment, however, was quickly drowned out by his aunt's next, slightly more probing, question.

“I'm amazed you two met with such busy schedules. To be fair,” she added with a sly smile directed at John, “I'm shocked Jonathan managed to find someone at all with his occupation .”

Your fork, laden with a generous portion of creamy mashed potatoes and perfectly seasoned mince, froze halfway to your mouth. Your earlier questions about the nature of John’s job came rushing back. What exactly did he do? You knew he was often away for extended periods, you even kept his plants from dying a slow death from time to time, but his reasons had always been vague. “Business trips,” he’d called them, with a shrug and that infuriatingly handsome smile.

“Right,” you managed, forcing a light laugh as you carefully set your fork back down, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “We make it work. We talk a lot on the phone."

“You do?” His mother, ever the perceptive one, turned to John, her brows raised in what you could only describe as disbelief. “How come you always tell us you can’t contact us?”

John cleared his throat and his hand reached for his beer, his fingers wrapping around the cold glass. “Kate makes some exceptions,” he explained, his gaze fixed on the drink.

Kate? Your mind scrambled for context, your internal “John’s-Life” file coming up short. “Kate” let him make exceptions? Who was Kate, and more importantly, what kind of job required someone to ask permission to make personal phone calls? And why did you feel jealous - you had absolutely no business to feel this way. 

“Who’s Kate?” You asked, reaching for your champagne flute, unable to hide the accusatory edge creeping into your voice.

“My boss . Sort of.” The golden liquid got caught halfway in your throat. First name basis with his boss? His family knew his boss? So many questions came up, and you were slowly starting to panic. You were supposed to be a believable girlfriend, but you were scared the mask was slipping away by the second. 

“Oh, right, Kate. Sorry, darling. You know how my weeks have been lately. It's a wonder I can remember my own name half the time.”

“She must be happy for you, too,” his mother commented, delicately spearing a piece of fish with a precision that made you suspect years of etiquette training lay beneath her impeccably polite facade. “Finding someone special, I mean. Might even spare her some of your, shall we say, moods .” She glanced at John, her eyebrows arched as if she was sharing a private joke with the entire table, except you.

Moods? You’d always found John to be quiet, reserved, perhaps a tad intimidating at times, but never moody. 

You glanced at John, who was pointedly studying his plate, the faintest hint of a flush creeping up his neck. You wouldn't have thought the man capable of embarrassment. It made him seem unexpectedly human, and somehow even more attractive.

You were about to ask for clarification when Nan seized the conversational reins. “So, darlings,” she asked, her gaze moving back and forth between you and John, her smile widening expectantly, “How long have you two known each other?”

“I think six months?” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips.

At the exact same moment, John declared, “Almost a year now,” his voice deep and steady, completely contradicting your rushed estimation.

You froze. The silence that descended upon the table was deafening. 

“Has it already been that long?” you exclaimed quickly, forcing a bright smile and injecting as much wonder and mock surprise into your voice as you could muster. You prayed that your sudden rush of amnesia would be enough to distract them from the giant, elephant-sized hole you’d just blown in your story. You reached over to slightly squeeze his hand. “I suppose time flies when you’re in love.”

You snuck a peek at John, expecting to see panic, maybe even annoyance, but what you found in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He was watching you intensely. And that smile playing at the corner of his lips? It made something dangerous and delicious twist low in your belly.

“I believe that,” John’s grandma chimed in, her voice warm with the wisdom of nine decades lived. “You two are very lovely together.”

Eleanor nodded in agreement. “She’s good for you, Jonathan. Maybe having someone special to come home to will make those long missions away a little easier.”

"Speaking of which, how’s that new posting treating you, lad? Heard it’s a bit of a hot zone, eh?” John's uncle boomed across the table.

“It has its challenges,” John replied, taking a long sip of his beer as if to fortify himself for the inevitable round of inquiries. “But it’s good to be back in the field.”

You frowned. Field? Posting? What kind of job involved working in a “field”? And what exactly made it a “hot zone?” You felt more and more confused by the conversation, it was as if they spoke an entirely different language, a language riddled with code words and shared experiences you weren’t privy to.

“That I believe,” his uncle answered, also reaching for his beer as if to toast to a shared understanding. “Bet your rank will get you far, though.”

You felt John tense beside you, his hand tightening around yours, not letting go. His family's casual acceptance of his frequent — and apparently lengthy — disappearances made you increasingly curious. You knew by now he often travelled for work, but something about the way they spoke, the underlying thread of concern laced with pride, hinted at a world you were only just starting to glimpse.

“I imagine those long stretches apart must be difficult, darling,” John's aunt commented, her gaze fixed on you with a sympathy that only deepened your bewilderment. “But I’m sure you’re used to it by now, working in a hospital and all. Those long shifts must be a challenge, too.”

You smiled, still confused about what was going on—but you also saw an opportunity. It was time to take control of the narrative, to steer this conversation into a territory you could navigate — even if it meant bending the truth further than it had already been twisted.

“Speaking of long stretches,” you interjected, shooting John a look that was equal parts challenge and playful invitation. You’d gone from wanting to bolt to wanting to play this game, see how far you could push him, how convincingly you could both lie. “Remember that road trip we took last fall? The one where we got hopelessly lost in the Scottish Highlands and ended up sleeping in the car?”

As you spoke, you noticed that everyone else at the table had dived into their food, the initial round of introductions and polite inquiries fading into a comfortable murmur of conversation. Nan beamed at you both, her fork hovering over a generous slice of shepherd’s pie, her eyes twinkling with the quiet pleasure of seeing her grandson – even a pretend version of him – happy.

Beside you, John stiffened, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and what you could only interpret as wary amusement. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like velvet draped over steel. “Scotland. Beautiful, isn’t it, love?”

“Beautiful?” you countered, tilting your head and letting out a soft laugh that you were fairly certain sounded far more genuine than it should have. You couldn’t help but admire his quick thinking, the way he effortlessly picked up on your cue and played along. “Those winding Highland roads. They were more treacherous than romantic, if I’m being honest. I was certain you were going to drive us straight off a cliff at least a dozen times.”

His smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth that made something deep inside you melt a little. “I assure you, love, my driving is impeccable. You were simply distracted.” His gaze lingered on your face for a beat too long.

A delicious warmth flooded your cheeks. “Distracted? I seem to recall you being the one with wandering eyes," you countered, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you met his gaze head-on. You weren’t sure if the heightened awareness you felt buzzing between you was a product of the lies you were weaving or something more.

“That’s because you are quite the sight to behold, love,” he said, his voice husky, the words brushing against your senses like a caress.

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to process his words, their unexpected sincerity throwing you off balance. Had he just complemented you?

“You are—” He paused, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on your chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. You held your breath, waiting, as the air thrummed with a sudden, unexpected intimacy.

“Breathtaking.”

What was he doing? you thought, your heart pounding. Was he still playing the part, or was there something more simmering beneath the surface? And why did the possibility excite you?

The air thickened, the sound of his family’s conversation fading into the background as the world seemed to shrink, the space between you charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. You weren't sure if you wanted to laugh or lean across the table and kiss him senseless.

Just as you felt yourself leaning into that dangerous impulse, Eleanor cleared her throat delicately.

You both startled, like students caught whispering in the back of the classroom. John's cheeks, you noticed with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, were flushed a faint shade of pink. Even a man like John wasn't immune to a mother's watchful gaze.

“Those rolls are delicious, dear,” Eleanor commented, and turned to you, her tone light but her eyes sharp with amusement. “Why don't you have one?” 

You reached for a roll, suddenly starving, the earlier tension dissolving into a relieved chuckle as you caught John's eyes. He winked at you, a playful glint in his blue eyes. You winked back, feeling a warmth spread through you caused by the man sitting beside you, a man who, despite your best efforts to resist, was quickly becoming more than just a convenient prop in this game of play pretend.

You'd managed to escape the clutches of the dinner table without completely blowing your cover, even when, at some points, you weren’t so sure how nobody saw right through you. But then came the real challenge — mingling. The party had moved inside the house, and you were separated from John. 

You silently cursed yourself for agreeing to this whole fabricated scenario. What if you told completely different stories to his relatives? What if someone asked you about his work, for God’s sake?

Glasses of port in hand, John’s extended family seemed very determined to catch up on months’ worth of news in one evening. You did your best to smile politely at every occasion, your inner monologue continuously reminding you to simply not say anything stupid.

Suddenly, a very chipper and well-dressed woman intruded on your personal space, waving her phone in front of your face. “You must be John’s girl!” she exclaimed, and before you could even answer, she swiped through numerous photos. “Look at her – isn't she adorable!”

You leaned in, attempting to make eye contact with the child in the photos while subtly taking a step back, her perfume a bit overwhelming. “Absolutely adorable,” you agreed, putting on a wide grin, and the woman beamed. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what children you and John will bring into this world. Aren’t they the greatest thing?”

Children? Your smile faltered. You opened your mouth to respond, to stammer out some vague response about “one step at a time”, but before you could even get a word out, the woman had moved on, already excitedly showing off her offspring to the next unsuspecting relative. 

Note to self: Avoid eye contact with anyone holding a baby photo, you thought, your internal panic rising. This whole “fake girlfriend” thing was rapidly becoming a high-stakes obstacle course, and you weren’t sure you were agile enough to navigate it without falling flat on your face.

You were trying to reach John, a plate of sticky toffee pudding on your plate, wanting to show off that you were going to try his favorite dessert – when a booming voice cut through the chatter, catching your attention. “There he is!” A tall, older man with curly hair approached John and shook his hand with a force that could crush granite. “That last mission you pulled off? Absolute textbook. A captain leading his own task force? The old man would be bloody proud.”

John’s posture stiffened ever so slightly. “Cheers, uncle,” he responded, raising his glass, his gaze darting towards you for the briefest of moments.

Mission? Captain? Task force?

The people around you, completely oblivious to your internal meltdown, continued chatting, casually dropping words like “deployment,” “classified,” “weapons,” and all other sorts of military jargon as if they were discussing the weather.

Suddenly, everything fell into place.

All those late-night departures, when you heard heavy footsteps echo through your shared hallway; the vague explanations about “work trips” when you met him outside your apartment; those calls he received at odd hours, his voice tight, his tone clipped, echoing through your shared walls; those calls that always seemed to coincide with a breaking news report or some global crisis. John, your sweet, infuriatingly attractive, seemingly normal neighbor – was leading a deadly task force.

Not that it was any of your business what he did. He owed you nothing.

Then why did this feel like such a blow? That he didn’t tell you beforehand, throwing you into the midst of his family who were clearly all about that life, and leaving you in the dark, making a complete idiot of yourself?

You had been looking forward to trying the famous dessert all evening, but suddenly, your appetite completely vanished. The plate that you held suddenly felt as appealing as cold porridge.

“Everything alright, love?” John approached, noticing the shift in your mood.

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing. “Peachy,” you replied. “Just, fascinating, hearing everyone’s stories.” You stabbed the pudding with your spoon, not sure where the feelings of anger came from.

You shoved the plate into his chest, forcing him to take it from you. “I just need some air.” You turned and made your way towards his Nan’s beautiful rose garden.

He’d lied to you.

Well, maybe not lied, exactly. Maybe it was the sudden awareness of the danger that shadowed his every move, who he really was, who he was compared to you.

You had every right to feel foolish, to even agree to such a stupid idea. But betrayal? You had no idea where it came from, it seemed like an overreach for a situation that had been, from the beginning, just a constructed lie.

Stepping out into the cool of the garden, you breathed a sigh of relief. The scent of flowers seemed to calm your racing mind a little, a welcome contrast to all the voices you just escaped. You found your way to a small bench underneath an old oak tree, sinking onto the cool wood, straightening your dress doing so.

You didn’t hear John approach, but then again, stealth was probably part of his many talents. You didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, stopping right next to you, an arm leaning on the backrest of the bench.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, frustrated by all these emotions you were feeling. “Well, the food is excellent, your grandma is adorable, and I haven’t witnessed any international incidents first-hand - yet. So that’s a win, I guess?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, a welcome contrast to the tension that had been knotting your stomach ever since you’d pieced together the things about his life. You’d grown accustomed to that sound, to the way it rumbled deep in his chest, unexpectedly gentle for a man who, apparently, spent his days navigating a world far removed from yours.

He shifted slightly, settling beside you on the bench. You felt the heat radiating off him in the cool air of the evening, an awareness that lingered even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Look,” he began, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, a gesture that was strangely endearing on a man who usually was so confident. “My life –” He gestured vaguely towards the party, the house. The unspoken explanation – “ my life is a full-blown, military-grade soap opera ” – hung in the air between you.

“You know,” you interrupted him, turning to face him. “A little heads-up about what you do would have been nice. Especially that it’s such an important thing in your family.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It wasn’t fair to throw you into that without a warning. I guess because it’s so normal to me, I just completely forgot about it.”

“I’m a nurse, I don’t really specialize in disarming bombs or whatever it is your uncles like to do for fun.”

He laughed then, a full, hearty laugh, that made your heart flutter faster in your chest.

“It’s not funny.” You said, looking away. “And I know I have absolutely no right to feel – ” you struggled to find the right word. 

“To feel –?” he prompted, leaning a little closer.

“Disappointed,” you breathed. “It’s silly, I just felt like I was left out of inside jokes during dinner. I tried so hard to not let this lie slip, but it could have been so much easier if I had known.” You took a deep breath. “So, while I was keeping your plants alive," you added, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice, "You were out there doing what exactly? Neutralizing threats? Saving the world? I missed that chapter in the ‘Good Neighbor Handbook.’”

You couldn’t help the edge that crept into your voice. At first, it had just been a fun little game, a chance to play dress-up and enjoy delicious food. But now, now it felt different. You were, suddenly, uncomfortably aware of just how much you didn’t know about the man sitting beside you. 

The silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the gentle chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves overhead. John stared at you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“You probably think I am a complete idiot,” you continued, the words tumbling out in a rush, a jumble of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. “I'm sorry, I'm being absolutely dramatic –”

The words died on your lips as his hands shot out, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a touch that was both possessive and unexpectedly tender. His gaze held yours captive, those blue eyes burning with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. And then, without a word, without warning, his mouth crashed down on yours.

His lips were hard, demanding, hungry, devouring yours as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate, unyielding dance. 

It was primal, raw, untamed. It was the kind of kiss that stripped away the pretence, obliterated the boundaries, and left you gasping for air, your mind reeling, your body aching for something you couldn’t name but craved with every fibre of your being.

Time seemed to stand still — the garden, the party, the lie — it all faded away. There was only the feel of his lips on yours, the light scrape of his beard against your skin. The taste of him was intoxicating, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves.

Eventually, he pulled back, his breath mingling with yours in the night air. His hands lingered, resting on your face, slightly tracing the lines of your jawline. His gaze was wild, eyes dark and burning into you with an intensity that made you want to melt into a puddle.

You stared back, your mind racing. This was the moment the lines blurred. There had been something there — you felt it. It was more than pretend, more than just playing a game. Desire. Interest. Even though you felt like you no longer knew this man at all, you wanted to get to know him all over again. Taste him, touch him — you blinked, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Would you prefer to leave?” John's hand, still warm from its possessive grip on your face, gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture both intimate and oddly reassuring.

You shook your head. “It’s your grandma's birthday. You can’t just leave because I feel uncomfortable.”

“I think we’ve both had enough of the party for one night,” he murmured, a quick smile flashing across his face. “I’m going to let her know you aren’t feeling too well. Alright?”

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your cheek, then, with a low rumble, he whispered in your ear, “Wait here.”

In front of both your apartment doors, the silence was an awkwardly long stretch. It felt like you were both trying to understand what had just happened, unsure where to begin.

“So, um,” he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that you found strangely endearing. “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded and smiled, “Of course. It was nice to get the dust off this dress again.”

He leaned towards you slowly, and your breath hitched. For one heart-stopping moment, you thought he might kiss you again – would he? Was what happened in the garden just an impulsive decision?

But he hesitated, the moment frozen, and there was something indecisive happening between you. But you didn’t mean to push, neither did he.

He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Good night,” he said, his words careful, as if he were holding back from saying something else.

“Good night,” you echoed, your voice barely a whisper. The small hope that you'd taste him one more time evaporated.

You turned, your hand reaching for your door, keys almost to the lock, when strong hands grabbed you, spinning you around in a dizzying motion. Before you could even register what was happening, his lips were on yours again — silencing all those unspoken doubts and hesitations.

This was real. You felt it; your heart screamed it; the way his mouth was devouring yours, displaying a hunger and desire that shouted it from the rooftops.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on for dear life, as his tongue traced the seam of your lips with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. You felt the rumble of his groan against your mouth as he backed you against your apartment door, his body moulding against yours as if he was starving for the feel of you. You were breathless, lost in the heat of his touch, the way his hands roamed your back and finally settled on the curve of your ass.

You realized then that you had always dreamed of kissing this man, silently, secretly, whenever his eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long right there in the hallway. You’d always dismissed those fantasies as wishful thinking, but clearly, he’d been wanting the same.

You heard a click as the lock on your door was turned, and you felt as his hand fumbled with the doorknob behind your back – all while his lips were still on yours, occasionally wandering to kiss your jaw and giving you an opportunity to breathe. He cursed under his breath, and before you even processed what was happening, he shouldered the door open and pushed both of you back into the darkness of your apartment.

The familiar space of your home was suddenly transformed, and John's touch was the compass guiding you. He didn't release you, keeping you close to his body as if you might slip away. With a smooth movement, he shoved the door shut, tossing your keys somewhere onto the floor.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up flush against him, the gasp that escaped your lips quickly swallowed by his next kiss. He carried you, your legs wrapped around his waist, until he reached your couch, where he gently laid you down, his body hovering over yours, his eyes devouring you, making you feel incredibly vulnerable.

The sofa dipped as he planted his knees left and right next to your legs, and he leaned to hover over you. You were both breathing hard, the only sound in the silent room. The only light illuminating you was the sliver of moonlight spilling through the window above.

“Is this still pretend?” you managed to whisper, your voice a shaky breath.

His eyes locked onto yours, the slight smirk on his face sending a thrill to your core. His hands moved to your hips, deliberately grinding them against his groin. You gasped as you felt the hardness of his arousal pressed against you, hyperaware of the thin fabric separating your most intimate parts.

“Fuck, no,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. He moved his hips again, his hands slowly but intentionally pushing up your dress.

Your skin felt like it was on fire; your head was spinning. 

One of his hands moved up to the line of your dress, and with a rumble in his throat, he pulled the fabric aside, exposing the swell of your breasts to his hungry gaze.

His pupils dilated, his eyes dark and intense, as he stared at you like a starving man presented with a banquet. You'd never been so incredibly turned on, no man had ever made you feel this way— John’s simple gesture of delicately tracing the skin around your nipples made you moan so loudly you immediately threw a hand over your mouth, slightly embarrassed.

“No, let me hear it all. You sing so beautifully, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand gently moving yours away, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and unexpected tenderness.

"John,” you breathed, your voice a shaky sigh.

“This bloody dress,” he groaned. “Wanted to rip it off you the second I saw you standing at my door.” His voice was raw, unfiltered – gone was the nice, gentle neighbor; this was the Captain coming through, the darker, more commanding side of him that should have scared you, but only served to intensify the desire swirling inside you. You wanted to know all about the man he left behind as soon as he stepped into this building.

“Every fuckin' time I saw you in the hallway, those quick hellos were never enough,” he confessed, one hand tightening on your hip, the other slowly trailing down your skin beneath the hem of your dress. His touch was agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that made you lose your mind. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His words were so honest, it caught you off guard completely. It must have shown on your face right then, because he smiled in return. “Never thought I’d stand a chance," he admitted. "You always seemed out of reach.”

You frowned. “Out of reach?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Figured I’d never stand a chance against the queue of blokes lining up at your door.”

“John, what? A queue, for me?” You laughed, your disbelief genuine, gesturing towards yourself.

He sighed, sitting up, his fingers playing with the lace trim of your panties as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re beautiful, and tonight, I learned it’s inside and out. You're you, and that's fuckin’ wonderful."

You shook your head in disbelief. His words made your entire body tremble.  He wasn’t just looking at your body; he was seeing you. And it felt extraordinary.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a longing that mirrored your own. “I kept thinking about what you were hiding underneath those baggy clothes,” he confessed, his voice a husky whisper, his fingers slowly sliding your panties down your legs. He felt you shy away from him a little, a smirk on his face stole your breath, as he pushed your legs apart with his calloused hands. “Like I said, so beautiful.” He whispered, his voice so rough with what you could only describe as lust. It made you shiver.

“You know,” you whispered, “The funny thing is, I thought exactly the same.”

“What do you mean?” You watched as he slowly ran a hand along your thighs. A ragged breath escaped your lungs, and you struggled to continue speaking.

“You’re incredible – there’s no way you didn’t have someone to –”

“To what?” he asked, suddenly stopping his movements, his gaze intense. “Willing to take a chance on a bloke who doesn’t know a thing about flowers or romantic dinners? Who spends more time on planes than in his own flat? Whose idea of a good time involves dodging bullets and disarming explosives?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head.

He was being so completely honest with you, so vulnerable, it sent a sharp pang through your chest. He was seeing you – the real you, hidden beneath the baggy clothes and carefully constructed walls – and for the first time that night, you were truly seeing him . John, who looked like he could bench-press a small car, who radiated an aura of danger as naturally as he breathed. 

He wasn’t some playboy who brought women home every other night, like you’d assumed. He could have any woman he wanted – and yet, here he was, his gaze tracing every inch of your naked body.

He liked you. He’d thought about you.

It felt surreal.

“Best decision I’ve made in a long time,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Asking you, I mean. Thinking I could never have you, and now –”

You held your breath, anticipation coiling in your stomach. “Now what?” you whispered.

“You’re mine.” He growled, and before your brain could even process what happened, his mouth was on your clit, kissing and sucking like he finally got to taste that delicious meal he was promised. 

“Oh god–!” you moaned, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, your nails digging into his scalp. He moaned, and the vibration of it against your skin made your legs twitch uncontrollably.

John’s touch was relentless, his tongue swirling against your most sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you that were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You arched against him, your hips bucking involuntarily, craving more of the delicious friction that was driving you to the edge of madness.

He seemed to sense your desperation, the way your body was begging for something more. He pulled back, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes dark with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified you. His hand replaced his tongue, fingers gently caressing your sensitive clit. “Look at you,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ hot.”

“John,” you breathed, you were speaking without any control over it.

“What do you need, love?” he asked, his voice thick with lust, his hand never ceasing its tormenting, exquisite torture against your aching core.

“I – I need –” You couldn't form the words. Your mind was blank, and your body was trembling with need that eclipsed all rational thought.

He seemed to understand, his gaze softening, a knowing smile curving his lips. He rose slightly, his hands moving towards the belt buckle, groaning as he released himself from the confines of his trousers.

He stepped out of his pants, the sound of fabric hitting the floor echoing in the sudden silence. His shirt followed shortly after, and you were captivated. His body was hard, sculpted muscle, his arousal straining against the fabric of his boxers, proof of the desire you'd awakened within him.

You watched, mesmerized, as he slowly peeled off his boxers, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached down, fisting himself, and your breath hitched at the sight.

“Still think you’re not attractive to me, love? Look what you’re doing to me,” he let his thumb slowly run over the head of his length, spreading the drop of pre-come that formed there, and he must have known it was teasing you, driving you mad. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth to speak, to voice the desire that was burning through you with the force of a supernova, but the words caught in your throat. All you could manage was a whimper as your fingers were digging into the cushions, hips arching upwards, instinctively seeking out friction you craved.

You felt like if you couldn't have him, you might die.

“Uh-uh.” His hand reached forward to grab the soft flesh of your tits, one after the other, and his thumb brushed a teasing circle around your nipples, the pressure increasing just enough to make you gasp. "I said, tell me what you want.”

“You,” you confessed, the words torn from your very soul. “For God's sake, I fucking need you.”

John's gaze intensified, his eyes dark, and the corner of his mouth twitched, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. He loomed over you like a predator about to claim his prey. With a growl, he leaned down, pressing his mouth on yours, and you could feel his erection pressing between your folds.

One of his hands shot out, cupping the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you captive. 

“You’re going to get everything you need, love,” he breathed, and followed by his promise, he entered you in a deliberately slow movement, almost torturous. He moaned, so raw and primal, it made you clench around him, and your entire body ignited as he filled you completely. His size, his heat, the intensity of the sensation – it sent your senses into overdrive, causing you to dig your nails into his back.

“Ohhh fuck,” you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper, lost in a world of sensation he'd created with his touch.

He paused, holding himself perfectly still within you, savoring the feel of your body clenching around him and the soft moans escaping your lips.

You whimpered, arching your hips up instinctively, desperate for more, aching for him to erase every thought, every doubt, every worry, with the overwhelming pleasure that throbbed between you.

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine, and then he moved. Slowly at first, deliberately drawing out the sensation, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust a slow, agonizingly delicious torture that had you clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your nails leaving trails of fire on his skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice tight with need as he buried himself deeper. “You're so fucking tight – so fucking wet.”

But even in the haze of pleasure, a primal instinct took over. He needed more. He rolled you both over, shifting his weight so that you were straddling his lap, your legs draped over his thighs, your core aligned perfectly with his arousal. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he reached for the hem of your dress, his fingers working quickly, impatiently, to free you from the loosely hanging fabric.

“Now,” his hands found your hips, guiding you closer, his thumbs stroking the sensitive flesh. “Ride me, love.”

You looked down at him, at the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes, the way his chest heaved with each ragged breath, and a surge of confidence, of pure, unadulterated lust, washed over you. You began to move, supporting your weight against him by running your hands through the light fur that dusted his chest. 

His hands dug deeper into your skin as you increased the pace, moving faster, harder, riding his cock wildly, completely lost in the pleasure.

Every movement sent jolts of pleasure through you. He watched you, his gaze never leaving your face, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as if he were hanging onto your every move.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice thick with approval. “Like that, love. Ride me hard.”

His words were a primal command, a challenge that sent a thrill through you, making you even bolder, even more daring. You leaned forward and kissed him, biting his lip, drawing a groan from him that resonated deep in your core.

He tasted of salt and desire, the scent of his arousal filling your senses, making you wild. His hands were guiding your movements, matching your intensity, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge of release.

With each thrust, you felt the coil of pleasure tighten inside you, building towards a crescendo that threatened to shatter you both. You moved faster, harder, your body driven by an instinct as old as time itself. His touch was a brand, marking you as his, and the possessive hunger in his eyes as you rode him, almost send you over the edge alone.

He was groaning now, his words a jumble of incoherent pleas and praises, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggled to maintain control. You felt him tense, the muscles in his thighs and arms bunching beneath your touch, and you knew the storm was about to break.

“Don’t stop,” his voice was raw with need, his gaze burning into you as if he wanted to sear this moment into his soul. “Come for me, love. Let me feel you shatter."

And with one final, earth-shattering thrust, you did.

A shudder ripped through you, a wave of pleasure so intense it stole your breath away. Your walls clenched around him, a thousand tiny sparks of sensation exploding behind your eyelids. Your name tumbled from his lips, a breathless groan, as he held you tighter. You cried out, the sound swallowed by his eager mouth as he captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you, leaving you trembling, weak, utterly undone.

After you came down from your high, you watched him intently as he was also struggling on the edge of release. Driven by need and desire, you slowly let his cock slip out of you. He made a sound that sounded animalistic, a groan, low and deep in his chest, an expression of frustration. Your hand moved instantly, your fingers finding his length, circling him, stroking him with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm. Your fingertips traced a feather-light path up the underside of his shaft, lingering at the sensitive ridge just below the head before gliding back down to the base, your thumb brushing teasingly against the swollen vein that pulsed with his arousal.

His head fell back against the cushions, his eyes closed, a ragged breath escaping his lips as you continued to tease him, your touch the only cure for his aching need. You watched him, mesmerized by the play of muscle beneath your hand, the raw power he embodied even at that moment of vulnerability.

“I can't –” His fingers dug into the cushions, his body tensing as if fighting against the tide of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him.

You smiled. The power thrumming between you was intoxicating, addictive. “Can’t what, John?” you whispered, leaning in, your lips trailing a teasing path along the hard planes of his stomach. “Can’t hold back anymore?”

His answer was a strangled groan. His body went rigid, and the wave of pleasure that followed was written all over his face. His hand shot out, not to stop you, but to grip your wrist. His fingers tightened around it, his control started slipping, shattering, as his release washed over him.

You whispered small praises, and watched, fascinated, as his release spurted over your hand in hot, pulsing bursts. His hips were stuttering, his cock, hard, thick in your grasp, throbbed, and the remnants of his release felt warm against your skin. He was completely at your mercy.

You’d never felt this bold, this empowered, this reckless. Before you could overthink it, you raised your hand to your mouth and licked his come off of your fingers.

Your wish to taste him, it couldn’t get any more him than this. Salt, sweat, and something so uniquely his. It made your walls clench around nothing, sending a new wave of excitement through you.

John’s gaze snapped to yours, his eyes wide, a flicker of something dark and possessive flaring in their depths as he watched you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and reached out, his hand resting on your neck, his thumb slowly stroking along your pulse. “You’re something else, you know that, love?”

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. The sudden awareness of your actions, the intimacy of the moment, sent a wave of shyness washing over you. “I, uh,” you trailed off, averting your gaze, unable to meet the intensity burning in his eyes. Your cheeks burned, and you wanted to hide.

John’s hand shifted, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Don't shy away from me now, sweetheart,” he murmured and softly ran his thumbs over your lips. “Not after that.”

“That was –” You struggled to find the words, your thoughts were a mess. “I've never –”

“Never?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, the scent of him filling your senses, making you dizzy.

“Never been that bold,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to his lips, their fullness suddenly a source of endless fascination. “Or wanted someone so intensely.”

A dark smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with triumph and something that sent a delicious thrill through you. “Good,” he growled, the word a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Because you're mine now, love. And I'm not about to let you forget it.”

And then, before you could protest – not that you had any intention of doing so – his lips crashed down on yours. It wasn’t gentle. This kiss was a possession, a claiming, a wildfire consuming everything in its path. His hand shot out to grab your neck, holding you close to him.

This really wasn't pretend anymore.

[woniedarlin]

Flipped: Yang Jungwon

pairing: Jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: You’ve always adored Jungwon since the age of 8. Calling him your prince but he's never reciprocated. Finding you annoying especially when you give him those goo-goo eyes. Despite the years that pass, your love for him remains until a betrayal shakes your foundation. Now, as the tables turn, you find yourself ignoring him while he desperately pursues your forgiveness. Will this cycle of love and hurt ever find its resolution?

warnings: bittersweet, cussing, kissing

note: Hello, my lovely darlings! Based on the title, this is inspired by the movie ‘Flipped’. It took me a while to make this since I had writer’s block. So I deeply apologize if this disappoints you. Happy reading!

caution: Love’s journey may be fraught with betrayal, heartache, and unexpected twists. Brace yourself for an emotional rollercoaster.

taglist: @sol3chu @hwanchaesong @manduhao @velvetkisscs

Jungwon

I felt a mixture of uncertainty and reluctance as I sat in the car, watching unfamiliar houses pass by. Moving to a new home meant leaving behind everything familiar, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Each house we passed seemed like a marker of the unknown. My parents assured me it was for the best—a new job for Dad, a fresh start for all of us—but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The streets, the buildings, and even the trees looked different. Nothing felt right.

 Then, through the car window, I saw a girl around my age sitting in front of a small house. Our eyes met for a split second before I quickly looked away, feeling a flush of discomfort. She seemed to hold my gaze longer than necessary, making me even more uneasy.

As the car parked in front of our new house, my heart sank. This was it. Our new beginning. My mother’s cheerful welcome and the sight of the moving van were supposed to reassure me, but the knot in my stomach tightened. I missed our old home, my friends, and the familiarity of it all.

The next day, my apprehension lingered. I stood by the window, noticing the house across from ours—a smaller, less impressive home. I wondered who lived there. Then the doorbell rang, interrupting my thoughts. My mom called me to meet someone. Reluctantly, I obeyed, dragging my feet as I approached the door.

Standing there was the girl I had seen the day before, holding a plate of rice cakes. Her eyes lit up when she saw me.

  “So, this lovely girl gave us rice cakes because we moved in. Please get to know her. I’m sure you two will be great friends,” my mother said with a big smile, pushing me gently towards her.

“Wait, Mom—” I protested, but it was too late. She left me alone with the girl. I furrowed my eyebrows, feeling even more apprehensive about the situation.

“Hi! My name is Park Y/n. Nice to meet you,” the girl greeted cheerfully, her smile widening.

Huh... So that’s her name. A weird name for a weird girl. I quickly glanced at Y/n’s face, hoping not to meet her gaze, but couldn’t help but notice her cheerful smile.

“I’m Yang Jungwon. Nice to meet you too,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. I shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say or where to look.

Her presence made me feel uncomfortable.

  “Come on! Let’s play,” she giggled and grabbed my arm to drag me outside, oblivious to my resistance.

I attempted to resist, but her grip was firm, and I found myself being dragged along against my will. She pulled me into the front yard. I tried to stop her, and in the process, I ended up grabbing her hand.

We both stopped in our tracks. She looked directly at my face, her eyes wide with curiosity. Why am I still holding hands with this weird girl? I wanted to run back inside the house, go to my room, and lock myself there.

So I did what every 8-year-old kid would do. I ran.

  Y/n

As I sat on the grass of my front lawn, I noticed a car passing by, and my eyes locked onto a boy inside. Even from afar, I could tell he was very handsome. When he looked away immediately, I giggled. He seemed shy. It was cute.

The car was parked in front of the big house across the street. Oh... So this means I get to see the boy frequently since we’re neighbors, apparently. My mind raced with possibilities of friendship, and maybe more, just like in the fairy tales.

The next day, my mom asked me to bring rice cakes she made for the Yangs to welcome them. Of course, I was happy—this meant I’d get to see the boy again and maybe even talk to him. I quickly ran towards the big house, pressing the doorbell, only for me to meet a lady. I assumed that this was Mrs. Yang.

"Hello Mrs. Yang, my name is Park Y/n, and I want to give this rice cake to welcome you all for moving here." I smiled gently and handed her the rice cake.

She accepted it and returned the smile. "Oh, you sweet girl. Thank you for this. I love rice cakes. How old are you, sweetie?"

"I’m 8 years old, Mrs. Yang," I said.

She gasped. "Oh, really? My son is also 8 years old. Wait, hold on—Jungwon? Jungwon?" She looked to the side, calling and waving at someone to come. Is that the boy? Am I finally going to meet the boy up close?

Then, there he was. Wow... I was right. He is very handsome, like a prince from a movie.

"So, this lovely girl gave us rice cakes because we moved in. Please get to know her. I’m sure you two will be great friends,” Mrs. Yang said, giving him a big smile before heading inside with the rice cake in her hands.

"Hi! My name is Park Y/n. Nice to meet you," I said, my smile widening even more. There he was, right in front of me.

"I’m Yang Jungwon. Nice to meet you too," he muttered. But even though he spoke quietly, I felt my ears heat up. His voice was very cute and unique.

He seemed shy, so I wanted to help him come out of his shell. "Come on! Let’s play," I said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward their yard. He seemed to be playing hard to get.

And then our hands were holding each other. I swear he had the softest hands I’ve ever touched. I looked into his eyes—those cute, boba eyes. Is this it? Will I be getting my first kiss? My first true love kiss, just like the princesses in the movies?

  But then he ran. He must be really shy.

  Jungwon

Grade school was a nightmare, thanks to Y/n. She always followed me around, earning me endless teasing from the other kids. They called me “her prince” because she insisted on it, making my life miserable. I couldn’t stand it. Everything about her was annoying, from her constant attention to that stupid song they would sing: “Jungwon and Y/n were sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

So, I made a plan this time around. High school was my chance for a fresh start. I decided to ask Hyein, the most popular student, out on a date. I figured if Y/n saw me with someone else, she’d finally leave me alone. To my surprise, it worked. For weeks, she kept her distance.

However, I could always feel her glare whenever I was with Hyein. It sent chills down my spine. My victory was short-lived, though. My supposed best friend, Jay, betrayed me by telling Hyein I was using her to get away from Y/n. That jerk.

Hyein dumped me, and things quickly went back to the way they were before. Y/n resumed her relentless pursuit, much to my dismay.

One morning, I heard her high-pitched voice behind me: “Hi, Jungwon! ”

I felt a wave of annoyance wash over me as soon as I heard her voice. I let out a long sigh internally, preparing myself for the upcoming interaction. With my back leaned against the lockers, I looked up, greeted by that cheerful expression on her face. Her eyes looked at me with such adoration that it was almost sickening.

“Hi, Y/N,” I responded with a mutter, masking my irritation.

“See you in class? ”She tilted her head.

I nodded without a hint of enthusiasm. “Mm-hmm.” My response was brief, bordering on rude. It was evident that I wasn’t willing to humor her any longer. Hopefully, she will finally understand the message.

She didn’t.

Instead, she smiled even brighter, seemingly oblivious to my indifference. She gave a small wave and bounced away, leaving me standing there in frustration.

I sighed again, turning to head to class. It looked like high school wasn’t going to be the fresh start I had hoped for. Instead, it was just a continuation of the same old annoyance, with Y/N at the center of it all.

  Y/n

Grade school felt like a dream. I was always by Jungwon’s side, watching him grow. Sure, he acted annoyed, but I thought, deep down, he enjoyed having me around. That was until high school started, and everything changed.

The first day of high school was supposed to be exciting—a new chapter for both of us. I imagined us walking to class together, sitting next to each other during lunch, and maybe even studying together in the library. But all my dreams were shattered when I saw him with Hyein.

Hyein, with her perfect hair, perfect smile, and perfect everything. She was the most popular girl in school, and she had somehow set her sights on Jungwon. I couldn’t believe it when I saw them together. My heart ached as I watched them laugh and talk like they had known each other forever.

For weeks, I kept my distance. I didn’t want to be the annoying girl who couldn’t take a hint. I saw them everywhere—in the hallways, at lunch, even after school. Each time I saw Hyein with Jungwon, my chest tightened with jealousy. Why her? Why with my Jungwon? My prince? What did she have that I didn’t? I couldn’t understand why he chose her over me.

But then, finally after a few weeks, Hyein dumped him. It would mean things could go back to normal, that Jungwon and I could go back to the way we were.

One morning, I spotted him leaning against the lockers, lost in thought. I bound over to him, eager to start the day like before. “Hi, Jungwon! ”

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Hi, Y/n,” he responded, his tone lacking the usual warmth.

“See you in class? ”I asked, flashing him a bright smile.

He nodded, but his response lacked enthusiasm. “Mm-hmm.” There was a hint of irritation in his voice, but I brushed it off as him being tired or preoccupied with something else.

“Okay, see you then! ”I chirped, oblivious to the tension between us. I waved and skipped away, my mind already drifting to the day ahead.

Jungwon

Ever since we were little, Y/n had this strange obsession with the sycamore tree near the house. She would climb up to the highest branch that would support her weight and sit there for hours, reading a book or just watching the world go by. She called it her “thinking spot,” but to me, it was just a tree.

“Come on, Jungwon! Join me! ”She would call out every time she saw me, waving enthusiastically from her perch. I always had an excuse ready.

“Sorry, Y/n, I need to finish my homework,” I’d say, or “My mom needs help with something,” or simply, “Maybe next time.” I was convinced that the tree was just another one of her weird quirks, like her insistence on calling me her prince or her tendency to follow me around everywhere.

But the truth was, I was scared. Not of heights or falling, but of Y/n herself. Her relentless cheerfulness, her unwavering affection, and her ability to make me feel things I wasn’t ready to deal with. Being up there with her, away from everything and everyone, felt too intimate and too revealing.

One day, as I walked home from school, I saw her up in the tree again. She looked different, though—more pensive, more peaceful than usual. She spotted me and, for the first time in years, didn’t immediately call me out. Instead, she just watched me with a curious, almost wistful expression.

“Hey, Jungwon,” she finally said, her voice softer than usual. “You really should come up here sometime. The view is amazing. It’s like you can see the whole world from up here.”

I paused, the usual excuses forming in my mind, but something in her tone made me hesitate. “Maybe another time,” I said, my voice lacking its usual conviction.

She just smiled—the usual smile. “Yeah, maybe.” She turned her gaze back to the horizon, leaving me to continue home with a strange, unsettled feeling.

The next day, I found myself in my room, staring out the window at the sycamore tree. Its branches swayed gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the lawn below. I sighed, feeling a pang of annoyance at the sight.

“Dad, can you believe how many leaves that tree sheds? ”I complained, turning to face him.

My father glanced up from his newspaper, raising an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you, Jungwon? That tree has been there for years.”

“I know, but it’s blocking the view from my room,” I insisted, frustration bubbling up inside me. “And the leaves—it’s like I have to rake them every other day.”

My father sighed, setting aside his newspaper. “Alright, I’ll handle it. Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

A few days later, I was walking home from school again when I noticed a commotion. A bunch of police officers were standing around, looking up at the sycamore tree. My heart sank as I got closer and saw Y/n perched high up in the branches, her face streaked with tears.

“You need to come down, miss,” one of the officers called up to her. “The tree is unsafe and needs to be cut down.”

Y/n shook her head vehemently, clutching the branch as if her life depended on it. “No! You can’t cut it down! This is my tree! You can’t take it away! ”

I stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. Y/n’s eyes found mine, pleading. “Jungwon, help me! Please, don’t let them cut it down! ”

I only watched in silence, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. Y/n called out for my help, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Guilt and shame weighed heavily on my shoulders, paralyzing me.

Then, Mr. Park, Y/n’s father, emerged from their house. He walked over to the tree, looking up at his daughter with a mix of sorrow and determination. “Y/n, come down. Please, sweetheart.”

Y/n’s resolve crumbled at her father’s gentle voice. Slowly, she climbed down, tears streaming down her face. As soon as she reached the ground, Mr. Park wrapped his arms around her and guided her back to their small home. She sobbed into his shoulder, her whole body shaking with grief.

I stood there, feeling a hollow ache in my chest. Watching her cry, I realized just how much that tree meant to her and how much she needed it. And in that moment, I felt like I had let her down in the worst way possible.

  Y/n

Ever since I was little, the sycamore tree has been my sanctuary. I would climb up to the highest branch that could support my weight and sit there for hours, feeling the gentle sway of the tree and looking out at the world below. Up there, I felt at peace. The worries and stresses of life seemed to melt away, leaving me with a sense of calm and clarity.

I often dreamt of sitting on that branch with Jungwon beside me, showing him the view that brought me so much comfort. I imagined us sharing that special space, watching the sunset together, feeling the breeze. I believed that if he saw what I saw, he might understand why the tree was so important to me. But Jungwon always had an excuse—homework, helping his mom, or simply “next time.” I told myself he was just shy, still waiting for the perfect moment to join me.

One day, I felt especially at peace, perched on my favorite branch, thinking about everything and nothing. The view was breathtaking, with the sky painted with hues of orange and pink as the sun set. I smiled, imagining Jungwon sitting next to me, finally sharing this moment. I felt so content and in tune with the world around me.

Days later, everything changed. I was back in my tree, savoring the tranquility, when a bunch of police officers appeared below, calling up to me.

“You need to come down, miss,” one of them said. “The tree is unsafe and needs to be cut down.”

I felt a surge of panic and devastation. “No! You can’t cut it down! This is my tree! You can’t take it away! Why are you doing this? ”I clung to the branch, tears streaming down my face.

I spotted Jungwon in the crowd, and my heart ached with desperation. “Jungwon, help me! Please, don’t let them cut it down! ”But he just stood there, staring at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. He didn’t move and didn’t say anything. I felt a crushing sense of betrayal and helplessness.

Then I heard my father’s voice, gentle and soothing. “Y/n, come down. Please, sweetheart.” His words broke through my resolve, and I slowly climbed down, my tears blurring my vision.

As soon as I reached the ground, my father wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly. I buried my face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. The sycamore tree had been like a close friend, a source of comfort and peace. Losing it felt like losing a part of myself.

My father guided me back to our small home, still holding me. As we entered the house, my mother joined us, wrapping her arms around me too. Their embrace provided some solace, but the pain of losing my beloved tree lingered.

I felt a hollow ache inside—a sense of loss that words couldn’t fully capture. The sycamore tree had been my refuge, my escape, and now it was gone. As I stood there, enveloped in my parents’ arms, I couldn’t help but wonder if Jungwon would ever understand what that tree had meant to me.

  Jungwon

The guilt gnawed at me like a relentless beast, driving me to take action. I couldn’t bear the thought of Y/n hating me or of her feeling betrayed by my actions. So, the next day, I mustered up the courage to visit her house.

As I approached the familiar front door, my heart pounded in my chest. What if Y/n refused to see me? What if her parents turned me away?

But to my surprise, when I rang the doorbell, it was Y/n’s parents who greeted me warmly. They invited me inside; their expressions were kind but tinged with sadness.

“Jungwon, what a surprise,” Mrs. Park said, her voice gentle. “Please, come in.”

I followed them into the living room, feeling a knot form in my stomach. This was it—the moment of truth. I had to apologize to make things right with Y/n and her family.

“Mr. and Mrs. Park, I… I need to apologize,” I began, my voice trembling slightly. “I… I was the one who complained about the tree. I never meant for it to go this far. I never wanted to hurt Y/n.”

Mr. and Mrs. Park exchanged a glance, their expressions softening. “Jungwon, we appreciate your honesty,” Mr. Park said, his voice filled with understanding. “But you should know that Y/n is…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the door to the living room burst open, and there stood Y/n, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.

I froze, feeling a lump form in my throat. This was it—the moment of truth. Y/n had heard everything, and now I had to face the consequences of my actions.

“Y/n, I…” I started, but she didn’t let me finish.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and without a word, she turned and ran out of the house, leaving me standing there, feeling more helpless and ashamed than ever before.

Without thinking, I chased after her, calling out her name and pleading for her to stop and listen to me. But she didn’t slow down; she didn’t even glance back at me.

I finally caught up to her, panting and out of breath, but she refused to meet my gaze. Her eyes, usually warm and affectionate, were now cold and distant, filled with hurt and betrayal.

“Y/n, please,” I begged, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

She turned to face me, her voice trembling with emotion. “Why, Jungwon? Why did you let them take it away? You knew how much that tree meant to me.”

I stood there, speechless. I didn’t have any excuses other than the fact that I was a total asshole.

But she pulled away, her expression hardening even further. “You’ve already done enough,” she said, her voice laced with bitterness. “Just leave me alone.”

With those words ringing in my ears, I watched helplessly as she turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance. I had messed up in the worst way possible. And as I stood there, feeling the weight of my actions bearing down on me, I knew that earning back her forgiveness would be the hardest thing I had ever done. But I was determined to try, no matter what it took.

  Y/n

I retreated to my room, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on me like a heavy burden. Sitting on my bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling of loss and betrayal. My sanctuary, my haven, had been torn away from me, and I didn’t know how to cope with the emptiness that filled the space inside me.

As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I heard voices downstairs. Curiosity piqued, and I quietly made my way to the staircase, listening to the conversation unfolding below.

“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Park,” Jungwon’s voice drifted up to me. “I never meant for things to go this far. I didn’t realize…”

His words cut through me like a knife, reopening the wound of betrayal that still festered inside me. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I leaned against the railing, struggling to process the pain.

And then, I saw him. Jungwon stood in the living room, his expression filled with remorse and regret. Our eyes met, and for a brief moment, I hoped to see a flicker of understanding, of apology. But all I saw was guilt, mingled with something else—something I couldn’t quite decipher.

Without a word, I turned and ran, fleeing from the house and the pain that threatened to consume me. I heard Jungwon’s footsteps behind me, calling out my name, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. His betrayal cut deeper than I had ever imagined, leaving me feeling raw and exposed.

When he finally caught up to me, I turned to face him, my eyes filled with hurt and anger. “Why, Jungwon? Why did you let them take it away? You knew how much that tree meant to me.”

But he had no answer, no words of comfort or explanation. He just stood there, his gaze filled with guilt and regret. And in that moment, I realized that the boy I had trusted, the boy I had admired, had betrayed me in the worst possible way.

“You’ve already done enough,” I said, my voice laced with bitterness. “Just leave me alone.”

Feeling more hurt and betrayed than ever before, I turned and walked away, leaving Jungwon behind. I couldn’t bear to be near him, and I couldn’t bear to see the remorse in his eyes. His betrayal had shattered something inside me—something I wasn’t sure could ever be repaired. And as I walked away, I vowed to protect my heart from further pain, even if it meant shutting out the boy who had once meant so much to me.

Jungwon

It had been a year since that fateful day when everything changed. A year of silence, of longing, of heartache. Y/n had been avoiding me like the plague, ignoring my calls, my texts, and my attempts to talk to her at school. It hurt more than I ever thought possible.

At first, I was angry. I was angry at myself for letting things spiral out of control and for not realizing sooner what she meant to me. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, that anger melted away, leaving only a hollow ache in its wake.

I missed her more than I could put into words. I missed her smile, her laugh, and the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she loved. I missed the way she made me feel alive, like anything was possible as long as she was by my side.

But it wasn’t until she was gone—truly gone—that I realized just how much I loved her. It hit me like a ton of bricks, knocking the breath out of me and leaving me gasping for air. I was in love with her, utterly and completely, in a way I had never felt before.

It started from the moment I first saw her, all those years ago, when our eyes met for the briefest of moments. There was something about her—something that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. And even now, after all this time, that feeling hasn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger and more intense until it consumed every part of me.

I knew I had to do something, anything, to make things right with her. I couldn’t let her slip away, not without a fight. But the thought of facing her, of seeing the pain and hurt in her eyes, filled me with a sense of dread. I hated when she cried. It hurts for me to see her pretty eyes filled with tears.

But I had to try. I had to find a way to make her see how much she meant to me and how sorry I was for everything that had happened. And maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for us to find our way back to each other.

Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I approached Y/n in the school hallway. She was standing by her locker, her back turned to me as she fiddled with the lock.

“Y/n,” I called out tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper.

She stiffened at the sound of my voice but didn’t turn around. I took a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I... I need to talk to you,” I continued, my voice shaking slightly.

Still, she didn’t respond; her silence spoke volumes. I reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched away from my touch, as if my mere presence repulsed her.

“I know you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be,” I said, my voice filled with remorse. “But please, just hear me out.”

Finally, she turned to face me, her eyes cold and guarded. “What could you possibly have to say that I haven’t already heard? ”She snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I winced at her words, feeling the sting of her anger like a physical blow. But I refused to back down, not when I had come this far.

“I know I messed up, Y/n. I know I hurt you, and I’m so, so sorry,” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I love you, Y/n. I always have, and I always will.”

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe even hope. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a steely resolve.

“I don’t want to hear it, Jungwon,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You had your chance, and you blew it.”

With those words, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, feeling more defeated than ever.

  Y/n

Every time Jungwon approached me, it felt like a knife twisting in my heart. His presence stirred up a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, longing—all swirling together in a tangled mess. I wanted to ignore him, to shut him out completely, but a part of me couldn't help but listen when he spoke.

When he finally mustered the courage to say those three words—“I love you”—it caught me off guard. It was something I never expected to hear from him, something that felt foreign and unfamiliar on his lips. And yet, there was a sincerity in his voice—a vulnerability that tugged at my heartstrings.

Part of me wanted to forgive him, to let go of the hurt and anger that had consumed me for so long. But another part—the part that had been wounded and betrayed—was hesitant, guarded, afraid to let him back in, afraid to be hurt again.

As I walked away from him, his words echoing in my mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered within me. Was it possible to forgive and forget, to move past the pain and start anew? Or was it better to guard my heart, to protect myself from further hurt, even if it meant shutting out the one person who had once meant everything to me?

I didn’t have the answers yet.

  Jungwon

It was just another school day, but my mind was consumed by thoughts of her. Y/n. She was like a magnet, drawing my gaze whenever she entered the room. Even during class, I found myself stealing glances at her, unable to tear my eyes away.

As I sat at a table during lunchtime, lost in my thoughts, Hyein appeared in front of me, her voice a distant murmur. I couldn't even make out what she was saying; my attention was completely fixated on Y/n.

And then I saw her, sitting next to some boy I didn't even know. Who was he? What was his relationship with her? Questions raced through my mind, jealousy gnawing at my insides. That is my princess, my Y/n. Why was she sitting there, laughing and looking so beautiful, but with someone else? Someone who is not me.

I didn't even realize that Hyein had been calling my name until she waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my reverie. "Jungwon, are you even listening to me?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I blinked, tearing my gaze away from Y/n reluctantly. "Uh, sorry, what were you saying?" I mumbled, my mind still lingering on the sight of Y/n with that unknown boy.

Hyein rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. "Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "You're impossible, Jungwon."

But I barely heard her words, my attention already drifting back to Y/n, the girl who occupied every corner of my mind and heart.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The sight of Y/n laughing with that boy, her eyes sparkling in a way I hadn’t seen in so long, made something snap inside me. I stood up abruptly, ignoring Hyein’s startled look and the noise of the cafeteria around me. My feet carried me towards Y/n with a single-minded determination.

“Jungwon, what are you doing? ”Hyein called after me, but her voice was drowned out by the pounding of my heart.

I reached Y/n’s table, my eyes locked on hers. Without thinking, I grabbed her arm, pulling her up to face me. She looked at me with a mixture of surprise and confusion, but before she could say anything, I leaned in and was about to press my lips on hers.

For a fleeting moment, the world stopped. It was everything I had imagined and everything I had wanted. This is it. But then, just as quickly, it shattered. Y/n pulled away immediately, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.

“Jungwon, no! ”She cried, her voice breaking as she wrenched herself free from my grip. She turned and ran, her movements a blur as she pushed through the crowd of students who had stopped to stare.

“Y/n, wait! ”I shouted, my voice desperate, but she didn’t stop. She ran out of the cafeteria, her steps echoing in the hallway.

I chased after her, calling her name, but she was too fast. By the time I reached the school’s entrance, she was already on her bike, pedaling away as if her life depended on it.

“Y/n, please! ”I yelled, but she didn’t look back. She rode off, disappearing down the street, leaving me standing there, breathless and alone.

Students around me were whispering, their eyes filled with shock and curiosity. I felt a wave of shame and regret wash over me, but it was too late. Y/n was gone, and I had no idea how to make things right. I fucked up again.

  Y/n

I could feel Jungwon's eyes on me during class, burning a hole in the back of my head. It was uncomfortable, and I found myself shifting in my seat, trying to focus on anything but his relentless gaze. By the time lunch rolled around, I was relieved to escape the classroom.

In the cafeteria, I sat down with my tray, picking at my food. A boy I didn't know very well approached me, striking up a conversation. I didn't catch his name, but his presence was a welcome distraction. He noticed the gloom on my face and made an effort to cheer me up, telling jokes and funny stories. For the first time in months, I felt a genuine smile form on my lips. It felt good, like a brief reprieve from the constant ache in my chest.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jungwon approaching. There was a determined look on his face that sent a chill down my spine. Before I could react, he was at my side, grabbing my arm and pulling me up from my seat.

His face was leaning close to mine. I realized that I was about to be kissed.

For so long, that had been my biggest dream. I had imagined it countless times, like a scene from the movies where the prince kisses the princess, sealing their love with a perfect moment. But not like this. Not in the middle of the cafeteria, with everyone watching, and certainly not when I was still hurting so much.

“Jungwon, no! ”I cried, pulling away from him. I ran as fast as I could, pushing through the crowd of students who had stopped to stare. I could hear Jungwon calling my name, but I didn't stop. I burst out of the school, my legs carrying me to my bike. I jumped on it and pedaled furiously, the wind whipping past my face as tears blurred my vision.

I rode straight home, my mind a whirl of emotions. I felt the hot sting of betrayal and confusion, mingled with the remnants of a love I had once cherished. When I reached my house, I ran to my room, slamming the door behind me. I threw myself onto my bed, the sobs coming in waves as I buried my face in my pillow.

For days, I locked myself in my room, coming out only to eat. I couldn't face the world, let alone Jungwon. The pain of everything was still fresh, and I needed time to heal. One day, though, my dad knocked on my door.

“Sweetheart, can you come to the living room and look by the window? ”He asked gently.

‘’Why?-‘’

‘’Please sweet girl?’’ he pleased softly from the door.

Reluctantly, I got up and walked to the living room, pulling back the window blinds. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Jungwon outside, digging a hole in the lawn. Confusion washed over me. What was he doing?

But then, I saw it. I recognized it instantly from its leaves and the shape of its trunk. He is planting a sycamore tree. Without thinking, I walked outside, my heart pounding.

  Jungwon

As I stood there looking at her, I couldn’t help but think back to the moment I first saw Y/n. We were just kids then, but even at that young age, something about her caught my attention. I remember sitting in the car and making eye contact with her. My heart ached at how beautiful she was and still is. She was and always would be my Y/n, my princess.

  —————

Y/n approached Jungwon, her eyes filled with curiosity and a glimmer of hope. “Do you need some help? ”She asked softly.

He nodded, and they both kneeled down to plant the tree. As she patted the soil around the roots, she felt his hand on top of hers. She looked up and met his gaze—those cute boba eyes she loved so much.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the world around them fading away. Jungwon broke the silence first, his voice filled with emotion. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for everything. I want to make up for everything that I did, starting with the tree. I love you, my princess. I always have.”

A smile spread across her face, tears welling up in her eyes. “I love you too, my prince.”

He took a deep breath, hope flickering in his eyes. “Can I kiss you? ”

She nodded, and they both leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

It was everything she had ever dreamed of—the perfect moment that made all the pain and waiting worth it.

As they pulled away from the kiss, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the newly planted sycamore tree, as if the tree itself were celebrating their reunion. They both stood up, and Jungwon gently took Y/n's hand in his, leading her to the bench in her front yard. They sat down, still holding hands, their fingers interlaced.

"Remember when we were kids, and you always talked about sitting together in the tree?" Jungwon asked, his voice soft and full of nostalgia.

Y/n nodded, her eyes sparkling with memories. "I used to dream about sharing that view with you."

He squeezed her hand with a determined look in his eyes. "I want to create new memories with you, Y/n. Memories that make up for all the time we've lost. Can we start over together?"

She looked at him, feeling the sincerity in his words and seeing the love in his eyes. She then nodded as she smiled softly. "Let's start over."

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, talking and laughing; their hearts were lit with the promise of a new beginning. As the sun began to set, they stood up and admired the sycamore tree, its young leaves glowing in the golden light.

"This tree will grow strong and tall, just like our love," Jungwon said, wrapping his arm around Y/n's shoulders.

She leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace and happiness she hadn't felt in a long time. "And it will always remind us of today, the day we found our way back to each other."

As they stood there, watching the sun dip below the horizon, they knew that their future was bright, filled with love, hope, and countless new memories waiting to be made.

Y/n looked up at Jungwon, her heart swelling with affection. "Thank you for bringing the tree back. It means more than you know."

Jungwon smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I promise to never take you or anything you love for granted again. You are my everything, Y/n."

  The sycamore tree stood as a symbol of their renewed love and commitment, growing stronger and more beautiful with time, just like their relationship.

[hughjackmansbicep]

Idk if you’re taking requests now but can you please write a Logan x reader who likes flowers🥺 like someone gives her a flower and she gets very happy so he decides to buy bouquets for her to see her happy

Contains: Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Warnings: Uhhhh none??? Cuss words???

Word Count: 1.08k

a/n: omg my first request!!!! been waiting for one :DD i hopes you like hope i delivered well...... im so bad at making endings i never know how the fluff to do it rahhhhh !!!!! enjoy enjoy feel free to request friends i find this sm funnnnnnn

Unbeknownst to you, Logan took note of everything about you. He’d watch the way your eyes sparkled when you'd walk through the garden; he’d admire the way you carefully hand-selected flowers for whatever bouquet you were making that week; and even though he always seemed annoyed when you'd make whoever was driving pull over so you could pick the wildflowers on the side of the road, he secretly adored it. So when one of the students made a beeline for you, roses picked from the garden in hand, he took extra notes seeing something so simple make your entire week.

“It was just the sweetest thing!” You boasted about the flowers for the thousandth time; Logan didn't mind though; he could listen to you talk all day long. You could've been reciting War and Peace to him, and he'd still be utterly infatuated with every word that fell from your tongue. The two of you were sitting on a bench in the garden as you rambled on about those darn roses when Rouge had appeared holding a vase with the most gorgeous floral arrangement. “These were just dropped off for you.” She spoke, holding the bouquet out. “Oh my! Did they say from who?” You were grinning from ear to ear as you admired the flowers. “Nope! Card didn't say either.” You fished for the folded-over cardstock; opening it just left you with even more questions. ‘In a room full of art, I’d still stare at you’ was all that was printed on the card—no name, no initial, not even a hint of who might this be from. You looked up, giving Rouge a warm smile and thanking her before heading inside to set up your new arrangement.

You'd just finished cutting and placing your new flowers in a vase when Logan waltzed into the kitchen, “Who do you think they're from?” He asked, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand, “Not sure, but whoever they're from, they certainly know my favorite flowers.” You smiled down at the flowers, thankfully paying no real mind to Logan. His face was completely flush as he tried to mask the smile making its way to his lips with a quick swig from his beer. He just silently nodded in your direction before yelling a quick goodnight to you as he swiftly made his exit out the kitchen.

This continued on for weeks, your secret admirer sending flowers to you, sweet notes attached to all of them. You had saved every single one, keeping them locked in a small wooden box under your bed, and every week when new flowers would arrive, you'd cut a few off from your last bouquet, pressing them in books to also savor. You had interrogated every single person in the mansion about these mystery flowers, but to no avail, no one would confess. You didn't mind though; while it was frustrating to not thank your secret admirer, you appreciated the gifts nonetheless.

“I just wish whoever was doing this would say something.” You exasperated. You were sprawled across your bed staring at the ceiling as Logan sat at your desk picking at his fingernails, something he only did when he was nervous. “Maybe they're scared?” Logan offered, and you flipped to your stomach, looking over to him, "Well, they need to nut up and just tell me, I'm starting to run out of books to press these damn things!” His eyes go wide hearing you've been saving the flowers sent to you, your brows furrowing in confusion at his reaction. “What?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, “N-nothing; I think Charles is calling for me.” He practically runs out of your room after that. 

You 100% knew Logan was the one sending you all these floral bouquets; he made it so painfully obvious, but you weren't going to say anything. Honestly, you wanted to see how long he could keep his little act up. How many more arrangements were you going to get before he finally fessed up? Your answer came 2 months later, when you received a bouquet. The note attached was just coordinates and a timestamp of 7:26 p.m. Punching them into your phone, it was a botanical garden just a couple miles away, a smile creeping onto your face as your cheeks flushed red.

You stood at the beginning of the path in the garden at 7:26 on the dot, your heart a jackhammer in your chest, your breaths shakey and laced with anxiety. It had to be Logan, but what if it wasn’t... Your thoughts were racing in your head, making you feel dizzy, your stomach tying into knots as your heels clicked down the path. Each step closer, you could feel your body tense up like cement was coursing through your veins, hardening with each passing second. 

Rounding a corner to the center of the garden, you spotted an oh so familiar face holding a bouquet of your absolute favorite flowers, the goofiest smile planted on his face when he saw you coming around. “I fucking knew it.” You whispered to yourself; Logan nervously laughed, of course hearing what you said. “Surprisee…” He drew out, opening his arms up to you, wasting no time. You ran over to him, being engulfed in his oh-so-large arms that you loved. “I just saw how happy you were receiving those roses from that kid; I couldn't help it; I love seeing your smile.” He bashfully admitted, and you smiled up at him, planting a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek in response.

“I wanted to tell you so many times, but I wanted it to be special, y'know, because you're special.” His face was burning red as he spoke, “I notice everything about you, from the way flowers make your heart skip a beat to the way you rebuke the societal norms of appointment times.”

"God, I hate that everything is set in 5 or 10 minute increments.” You sighed against his chest, shaking your head. He laughed just at your dramatics, “Exactly why I had you show up at 7:26.” 

The rest of your evening was spent admiring the garden and teaching Logan about every flower you both came across, and of course he listened to everything, absorbing every minute detail he could. If your words were gold, he'd dress himself in them every day; he'd tattoo every sound that escaped from your mouth. You were as precious as rubies to him, and god, he was never letting you go.

[wordsarelife]

—the game

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: after one night with you, mattheo can't help but want more. sadly, you aren't the type for relationships: “that you no longer are, what you used to be, ever since you bared your skin for me”

warnings: suggestive, mentions of sex, angst

notes: get ready for angsty and soft mattheo riddle who is an absolute simp for you lmao, very angsty but with a happy ending :)

inspired by ‘the game’ by annett louisan

that you no longer are what you used to be ever since you bared your skin for me

"are you alright?" you were laying on the side, observing mattheo's face. he wasn't looking at you, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

"y-yes" he breathed lowly and for the first time in ever, he didn't seem as cocky and arrogant.

"cool" you shrugged. you were just trying to be nice, he wasn't your boyfriend or anything, so his mood wasn't really your problem. you threw back the cover and got out of the bed, tapping across the room to collect your clothes.

"where are you going?" he asked, sitting up. his eyes followed your every move.

"to my room?" you wondered, why he was asking.

"oh" he leaned against the bedframe, taking out a pack of cigarettes. "do you want one?"

"what?" you laughed in disbelief "do i look like a hooker to you?"

"no" he shook his head. you watched him for a few more seconds, before you stepped into your skirt and put your sweater on. "bye, mattheo" you smiled mischievously, before you left the room.

that you′ve lost your head in a single night and you're seeing things in another light

he didn't know yet, but that very night, you left a loneliness in him that he had never felt before. it seemed like ever since he got undressed for you, he wasn't how he used to be.

when you would see him around hogwarts he was often staring at you, thinking.

"you're staring again" theo elbowed mattheo. the classroom was quite big and you were sitting across from him, whispering with your friend.

"huh?" mattheo looked up at theo.

"she might notice" theo reminded "you're not invisible, matt"

"sure" mattheo shrugged his shoulder.

theo was the only one of his friends who had noticed the change in mattheo's character. he was acting unusal, especially because he hadn't hooked up with anyone in the last few weeks. he didn't have the courage to ask him about it yet, but he knew it had something to do with him always staring at you.

mattheo had been interested in sleeping with you for a long time. he had thought just getting it over with would stop his bubbling obsession, but it seemed to have made it worse. he wasn't used to desire someone like that, especially not after he had slept with them.

there was nothing new for him to see and still he wanted to do it again. for him it was like every single girl had suddenly disappeared. there was only you. sitting across from him. in a different light. and that scared him deeply.

during dinner theo had finally stopped making comments. mattheo was thankful for that, but he still tried to stray away from watching you, even if his eyes seemed to automatically find you.

"hey" blaise sat down on the bench in front of mattheo, successfully blocking his sight on you.

"hi" mattheo and theo chorused, before they continued eating. well, theo did, mattheo was just pushing food around on his plate.

"okay" blaise said "what's wrong with you both?"

mattheo send theo a look, who sighed "nothing"

"i should've stayed with pansy and draco" blaise muttered, nodding his head at the two sitting a few spots down. "even if they're hardcore flirting, at least that was some what interesting"

"wohoo!" enzo sat down next to blaise "the party can start!" he announced dramatically. mattheo rolled his eyes at the boy. blaise was annoying on his own, but the combination with enzo was nothing mattheo could take today.

it had been a month without sex and mattheo was feeling the effect.

"are we in a bad mood today?" enzo teased.

"fuck off" mattheo shoved his plate away and crossed his arms, bending his head down.

"hey" a soft voice made the boys look up. you were standing next to mattheo, who quickly scrumbled to his feet.

"hi" he said "how are you?"

"i'm fine" you smiled, sending an irritated look to enzo, whose eyes grew big as he recognized you. "is your friend alright?" you asked mattheo.

mattheo turned around and knew immediately who you were talking about. enzo was flailing his hands dramatically, hitting blaise on the shoulder over and over again, as if that would be enough to transfer his thoughts. "ignore him" mattheo tried his best to smile at you effortlessly, but was nervous about the reason you were talking to him in the first place.

"okay" you stretched, focusing on the boy in front of you again. "you forgot your notebook" you held it in his direction and he tried to hide his disappointment.

"oh" he nodded "thank you" you send him a last smile, before you turned around and walked back to your table

"that was horrible" theo muttered in mattheos direction, when he sat down again. before he could answer anything, enzo broke into a giggle.

"what's going on with you, you moron?" blaise looked at enzo in disgust and slid a bit to the side, rubbing his arm, that was probaly blue now after enzo had hit it multiple times.

"that's the girl!" enzo blabbled "from the party! the one you took back to the dorm!" he pointed his finger at mattheo. it seemed like enzo enjoyed knowing something secretive for the first time. normally he would be the last to hear about his friends flings.

"and?" mattheo shrugged, acting nonchalantly.

"yeah" blaise shrugged "she isn't the first and probably won't be the last, am i right?"

mattheo nodded relucantly and theo wiped his face with one hand, trying to hide his expression.

"hey mattheo" annie, a slytherin mattheo was sitting next to in potions, slid in on the bench next to him. he had been pursuing her for a few weeks, before he had slept with you.

"hi" mattheo replied absentmindedly.

blaise and enzo exchanged a confused look. theo shrugged. and mattheo? he seemed to be utterly uninterested in talking to annie any further. he turned his head away from the girl and she opened her mouth, but before anything could come out of it, blaise entered the non existent conversation.

"i'm good at sex too, sweetheart" he send her a smug smile, followed by a wink, while wiggling his eyebrows.

theo tried to hide his face, ashamed at what his friend was babbling and annie wrinkled her nose, looking at blaise disgusted.

"what?" she asked and then turned to mattheo "aren't you going to say anything?"

mattheo shrugged and took a sip from his water. annie shook her head outraged and got up. "arrogant asshole" she threw her head back and walked off.

that because of me you would leave a love and now I'm all you're dreaming of

"what was that?" enzo asked and even he seemed to be irritated now.

"what do you mean?" mattheo acted like he didn't have a clue what his friend was talking about.

"annie" blaise exclaimed, pointing in the direction the girl had just left. "you wanted to tap that ever since the school year started"

"you just ruined your progress" enzo added.

"i don't care" mattheo got up. his eyes caught yours across the hall. you smiled at him, before you continued your conversation with a boy, mattheo had never seen before, who was obviously flirting with you "i don't want her anymore"

blaise and enzo turned around. blaise clasped a hand over his mouth as soon as he realized what was going on.

"the girl from the party?" enzo asked confused, he was a bit slower.

"y/n" mattheo corrected, burying his hands in the pockets of his trousers

"what about her" blaise elbowed enzo. hard. "ow! blaise!"

"just look at him" theo muttered and mattheo didn't even hear his friends talking anymore. he was too focused on you and that boy, focused how you touched his arm and threw your head back from laughter. a month ago it had been mattheo talking with you like that. now you were the only thing that mattered to him and it seemed he couldn't be more irrelevant to you.

"shit" enzo mumbled as he realized. mattheo took that as his cue to leave and do something about his pathetic situation.

"can we talk?" he asked and you looked up at him confused.

"we're sort of in the middle of something" the unknown boy said. mattheo ignored him, sending you a pleading look.

"sure" you agreed, excusing yourself and following mattheo out of the hall and into an abondened classroom.

"so, what did you want to talk about?" you crossed your arms, leaning you back against one of the tables.

"you're driving me crazy, y/n" he quickly said and you raised your eyebrows. "i can't get you off my mind, ever since that night"

"oh" you simply said "i didn't want to mislead you, mattheo"

that dismal to be when every now and then someone else i′ll see again, it wasn't planned that you now feel like one of many

he sighed, his hand running through his curls. he stepped closer and the worried look on your face was making him go feral, the way you looked up to him through thick lashes, your hair, your smell, everything about you. his hand cupped your cheek softly, his thumb brushing along your lip.

"mattheo" you muttered. you didn't know that he was thinking more of that night "i thought we both agreed that this was just a simple hook up"

"it's not simple anymore" mattheo whispered and his breath fanned over your skin, making you perk up and inch closer. but you had to control yourself. it would be different for you than for him, you didn't want to take advantage of his feelings. "i want you to myself, all of you" he said and confirmed your worries.

"mattheo" you pleaded again. you touched his cheek. and his skin felt like it was burning under your touch. "i don't want to be someone's girlfriend" you muttered and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"i can't bear to see you with him" he admitted "not with anyone"

"i didn't want you to feel like one of many" you said softly. he let go of your cheek and you took his face in both of your hands. "we can do it again" you looked into his eyes "but it's not like that for me"

"i don't care" mattheo crashed his lips to yours. he lifted you up on the table behind you, deepening the kiss and opening your ponytail with a quick gesture. he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. you stroke his cheek and he smiled, tears shimmering in his eyes. "be mine. just for now"

"okay" you said and you felt worse at the smile that appeared on his face.

he nodded. "okay"

that you fall in love, because we do it. that it affects you so much i did not know that

mattheo climbed on top of you, pushing you down on the table and both of you knew that this was a volatile arrangement. you would keep your promise, but he knew you weren't his. he ignored that as he opened your bra and littered your collarbone with kisses.

you looked up to the ceiling and felt the guilt bubble inside of you. this felt wrong. and you were scared that mattheo was confusing lust with love. after all you weren't the type for relationships and you had thought he wasn't either.

you both parted ways after that night in the classroom. you kept out of his way out of guilt. and he kept away from you in the hope that whatever he was feeling was finally going to disappear.

halloween came and went and mattheo felt himself indulge in meaningless hookups, just like before he had been with you, but it wasn't the same. it felt wrong, like a duty he couldn't fulfill.

you weren't able to forget the feeling of the touch of his skin. the way it burned under your hand. they way nobody elses skin had ever burned under your touch. not like that atleast.

it took less than a week for a note to find you and for you to return to the abandoned classroom during nightfall. it made your heart burn to see him like that. desperate for your warmth. that night he took you out of the castle and while you were laying on the grass and watching his features shine under the stars, you had almost wanted to cry.

the sight of him saddened you and made you wish to give him all he was longing for. but you couldn't and mattheo knew that, but that night you were his for a short time once again.

you decided that this was going to be the last time. you would break it off the next time he would send a note. seeing the hurt in his eyes broke you more and more. especially when he tried to advert his eyes from you around the castle. as if he was constantly telling himself off for liking you the way he did.

leave it be, i can't deal, i have too much respect for how you feel

he was waiting for you when you arrived the next night. the glint of hope, any time you came to your secret meetings made everything so much worse.

"we have to stop doing this" you got right to the point.

mattheo's face fell. "what?"

"this isn't doing you any good" you admitted "i can't bear to hurt you"

"okay" he said "then don't go"

"it will hurt so much more if i don't go now"

he shook his head "you don't know that"

"i do" you assured unwillingly "it's not the same for me, matty"

"you don't feel anything?" he muttered, gently touching your face "does this do nothing to you at all?"

"not in the way you would want" you looked to the ground, trying to avoid his eyes. "i don't do commitment"

mattheo stepped back from you and nodded bitterly. "yeah" he shrugged. "why would you?"

you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. "i have too much respect for you and the way you feel than to play with you like that"

"don't say that" he shook his head and adverted his eyes.

"i'm sorry, matty, i truly am" you tried to grab his hand, but he moved backwards "but what did you expect? i told you the truth from the beginning"

"i know" he pushed his hair back, looking from the ground to your eyes "i thought, maybe, if this was going on for longer, you would eventually like me like that"

this was it. this was the moment your heart broke. he was looking at you and a single tear slipped down his cheek. in that moment you truly regretted ever coming close to him.

"you don't want that" you promised "you don't want to know me in a way that's more than for a night"

"i do" he argued "of course i want that"

"i will just let you down, matty"

"don't be ridiculous" he grabbed your shoulders

"loving me is not easy" you said loudly, trying to escape his hold.

"i know" he admitted "it's fucking hell"

you looked up at him in surprise. "you don't know what you're saying" you turned your body away from him with a sudden movement. "you don't love me. you can't love me"

"you'd be surprised at how much" he said softly. you turned around and looked at his face. you had known that he wanted more from you than you were able to give him.. but love? you had initially thought that whatever it was that made him dream of you, would be forgotten in less than a week. at least that was what had happened with any guy that claimed to like you before.

"i love you" he said, more clearly. "so much"

you couldn't allow yourself to hope. you couldn't take his words seriously. you shook your head and his smile died once again. whatever part of him had hoped to convince you was crashed and burning by now. "it will go away"

he watched in dispair as you silently left the room, without looking at him. he sank down on the table behind him, burying his face in his hands. what he didn't know was that you were doing the exact same right outside the classroom.

the next morning during breakfast you felt burned out by how much you had cried that night. your eyes felt puffy and your voice was hoarse. you ignored the conversations your friends were having around you, even if you got talked to. instead your eyes were fixated on the empty spot next to theo nott.

theo, who had noticed your look, send you a sympathic smile and shrugged his shoulders, making it obvious that he knew as much as you about mattheo's absence.

you got up from your seat aprublty, leaving the hall quickly and ignoring your friends questions. you took the fastest way to the astronomy tower you knew. you couldn't sit at the table and act like everything was normal. you wanted to be alone.

you let you legs dangle, the pole inbetween them securing your seating.

"seems like we both had the same idea" a sudden voice pulled you from your thoughts. you looked up. mattheo was standing at the stairs. you got up from your place.

"i'll leave" you assured him. after yesterday, you felt like it was your duty to give him space. he wasn't the problem, you were. and you didn't want to cause him any more harm.

"you don't have to" mattheo shrugged and you noticed that he was lying. he would rather have you leave again then look at you while knowing you would never reciprocate the way he did it.

"it's fine" you smiled, but it wasn't genuine. you walked past him, but unintentionally stumbled and almost fell down the stairs. he reacted quickly and caught your arm.

he let go of you after he had stabilized your footing.

"thank you" you mumbled

he ignored it. "maybe you should go to madam pomfrey, your arm is burning hot"

you perked up at that. "what?" you whispered.

"your arm is burning hot" he repeated, assuming you just hadn't heard him.

you looked at him in disbelief, remembering how his skin used to feel under your touch, and how the reason behind it all had been simple and plain love.

but you had to know for sure. you pulled your blouse from your skirt, quickly unbuttoning the last buttons. you pulled it up, so that your skin was bare. "can you touch me there?" you asked and mattheo's eyes widened.

"what the fuck?" he wondered.

"can you just do it, please?" you asked again and he sighed, but softly touched you. "is it hot?"

"your skin or this situation?"

"the skin" your face reddened.

mattheo nodded and frowned. "alarmingly, actually"

"open your shirt" you directed and to your surprise, he did like you had asked without the slightest hesitation.

you pressed you hand against his chest quickly. his skin was burning underneath it. you smiled.

"touch my face" mattheo cupped your cheeks. he nodded silently, confirming that your face was as hot as the rest of your body.

your smile grew even bigger and mattheo smiled back hesitantely, still confused at what was going on. "can i hug you?" you asked.

mattheo nodded and opened his arms for you to step in. for the first time you were doing something that didn't involve sexual lust. you breathed in his smell of nicotine and perfume and you wondered how something so simple could be so special. you stepped back and you knew that you were now seeing things in a different light, everything, even him.

"i'm probably not good at it" you admitted "but i think i'm in love with you"

mattheo smiled at you and laughed. "you were teribble at it, yeah" he grinned "so there is much room for improvement"

you giggled, but quickly grew serious again "i'm not good at being committed"

"me either" he said and stepped closer, taking your face in his hands once again. "but we will manage, we can learn together" he promised and kissed you softly. both of your lips were burning up.

"that sounds like a plan" you smiled, touching his cheeks with your fingers "but it will be hard to love me" you looked down.

"i don't care" mattheo crashed his lips to yours. he drew you close to his body, deepening the kiss and squeezing your waist in a way that made you squeek in surprise. he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. you stroke his cheek and he smiled, happy tears shimmering in his eyes. "be mine. for longer than now"

"okay" you nodded and you felt butterflies errupting at the smile that appeared on his face.

he nodded and you mirrored his smile. "okay"