#i felt that heartbreak in my bones

[emotinalsupportturtle]

is David Tennant actually trying to kill me this year?

[r3djy]

i just want to feel something

i just want to love someone else the way i loved her, but there's no one else left now

god, it hurt so bad

[literary-motif]

…Clawing at the walls of my enclosure is the proper expression for the feeling currently plaguing my chest, I believe.

Caleana

↳ Earis and Zaros confess to eachother. ↳ 3k words / will be posted to ao3 once the site's back up ↳ Content warning for mentions of alcoholism and aphobia (?)

Serulla’s new dawn was not painted in hues of red, orange, or even pink; Instead banners of green unfurled, replacing their old midnight blue, and the kingdom’s crown rested on a new dynasty’s head. The Atha’lin family had won.

Zaros had won.

And you were left in the shadows of a fleeting night.

You could hear the whispers of those who passed you: How pathetic you were for lingering past your welcome. No matter tonight was the first official marker of Atha’lin rule. You were expected to be forsaken, gone before light of the new era hit you. In all honesty, you had expected that as well.

The Ilves earis had little intent on watching the parade of their mistakes. But you found freedoms in no longer being such, no longer the ‘Ilves earis.’ One of which was being able to more fragrantly disregard social conventions. So for one more night, you stayed.

Yet you clung to recesses of the atrium. They were celebrating renewal, but you couldn’t help but feel like they were praising the soon-to-be absence of you. A pit plagued your stomach.

It didn’t help that lime clung to your throat like a paste. It wasn’t an unfamiliar flavor, like the chocolate which also accompanied the western delegates, but it was strangely heavy. A film coated your mouth from the drink – it was unlike any lemonade you’d had before, similarly spiked or otherwise.

You turned your straw, clinking the glass against the cup.

It was strange to be pushed aside. Before, all attention gravitated towards you whether you liked it or not. Light had caught your jewelry into spun gold, a threaded trap for roaming eyes. You were sought and coveted. Single conversations could change social dynamics for months.

And now you were dust, a relic of the bygone. Serulla’s nobles changed their minds quickly, and the karmic weight of that punishment fell heavy. The Atha’lin’s suffered it. Now it was the Ilves’ turn.

Though, there was one benefit to the isolation: romance. Your hand no longer held some great diplomatic importance, and your once-potential suitors fell to the same disinterest of you that you once had for them.

Good riddance.

You took a swig of your drink, disregarding the straw. You still couldn’t tell if you liked it.

As if on cue, the music swelled. Still, nobody danced, idle chatter filling the space where shuffling footsteps might. Two women passed you, arms linked together. One caught a glimpse of you and sneered to her wife.

Maybe it was best to get some fresh air.

You turned away, taking long strides to one of the atrium's many exits. Your hand found a pillar and you curved around it, swinging you into a dimly lit hallway.

You did not need light to navigate. This was your home. For twenty-odd years, you roamed these palace hallways with confidence now unknown to you, a sense of belonging which you never expected to lose. Its towering architecture never frightened you. The ghosts of family members past never haunted you. You were the earis, and everything would be yours one day.

As a child, that ‘one day’ felt like it would never come. Even then you knew it never would, an intuitive sense always imploring that you weren’t meant for the royal life, not meant to be earis.

Your stroll slowed as you took a short stairwell up into an upper-level cloister which overlooked the sprawling gardens. Thick marble pillars held the roof, encrusted with gold and painted in seemingly a million hues. There were no windows – latticework filled the space between pillars, creating an array of shapes for moonlight to pool in across the floor.

You placed your half-drunken lemonade on the banister and walked towards one of the arches, leaning against its, rather thick, sill.

This was an older part of the palace. Early rulers from the Faysel house commissioned the wing, along with the expansive atrium below, to show off their riches. You supposed it worked, though came off as… outdated nearly six-hundred years later.

I suppose we’re both history now, you thought, running a hand along the stone.

What wasn’t old, and in fact had to be quite new, were the flowers. A flowerbed was situated snugly between the lattice and sill, seemingly never in use before today. Strange blooms perked up through the soil. They almost looked like birds.

You squinted to get a better view.

“Admiring the flying duck orchids,” a familiar voice asked. You turned.

Zaros Kymen Atha’lin stood paces away from you. He stood tall in his favored kameez, and if it weren’t for the time you spent together in the Trials, that smirk may have intimidated you. His blonde hair draped across his back with perfectly symmetrical strands pulled to the front. You had always been (quietly) jealous of his grooming – though tonight, your attentions were pulled to the diadem around his forehead. Lattice patterns danced across his skin as he moved to stand beside you, elbows resting on the sill. He used two fingers to prop up one of the flowers.

When right beside you, even in darkness, you could tell how much he was improving. His eyes held a spark they didn’t before, not when he was at the bottom of a bottle every night. Slowly but surely, he was waning off. Something akin to pride tightened your heart.

“They’re reliant on a fungus. It’s not native to Serulla, however. These were specially imported for the sake of,” his free hand waved, “all this. How special am I?”

You huffed. “Well of course, dear Eminence, you are very special.”

“Thank you, thank you. A shame, though. They’ll wither soon.” You glanced at him, his attentions fully on the plum bird. “They don’t belong here.”

“Somethings don’t.”

He glanced over at you, painfully aware of your intentions to leave after tonight.

A moment passed in near-silence, the distant yet cheerful whistle of music lofting up to you. They must have started dancing.

“Why aren’t you down there?” You asked faintly.

“May I not say goodbye?”

“You may.”

Zaros shifted to face you, though you held your gaze on the duck orchids. The petals were almost velvety under your touch. “I wish I didn’t have too.”

“You must.” You sighed and dropped the flower, turning to him. “There’s no other choice. And quite frankly, its my own – I’ve long made peace with it.”

“But you made it out of necessity, didn’t you.” Something in Zaros’ gaze softened, turning almost intimate.

“That’s how we all make choices, don’t pretend like either of us have an abundance of free will. You didn’t join the Trials because you wanted to. Still, look how that ended up.” You didn’t mean for the last part to sound so bitter.

“No, I didn’t. And I prayed I would be given some other option.”

“Don’t we all.”

From your peripheral, you saw him smile.

You registered the texture of silk first. Zaros’ hand graced your jaw, ever-so-lightly, sending bumps along your arms. He didn’t even need to shift you. You looked back at him immediately.

“But I think I can give you one.”

“What are you saying, Zaros?”

He sounded breathless as he responded: “Rule with me.”

Your heartbeat stopped and quickened simultaneously, and something in you ran cold. The pit in your stomach seemed to curdle. Zaros long had ideals of a future you’d likely never witness, but this? This was talk of a madman.

Unwittingly, your cheeks doused in warmth.

“Zaros…” You began.

“Think of it,” his voice low and hopeful. “A solution for both of us. You’re able to stay in Serulla, and I’m spared of a life without you.” His touch snaked down to your wrist. His lips grazed your knuckles.

It did not dawn on you that this gesture was meant to be anything but horrific.

Zaros – an old rival, an older friend, your first tryst. Your only tryst. He enlightened you rarely with his words, though often with actions. And the monumental gift he had given you was clarity. Through your attempt at loving him did you realize it was impossible. You were not meant for romance.

And here he was, in all Zaros fashion, ready to break you back down.

He lifted his other hand to cup yours, which had begun to perspire profusely. “Stay, with me.”

“The politics, they’d never allow it—” You were not sure who ‘they’ were, but were willing to invoke anything to shoot this idea down.

“I’m the Eminence. I don’t think anyone has much sway over me,” he chuckled. His expression was dazed.

“What were the Trials for, then?” You muttered. “There can only be one.”

“Don’t you think this could ease us into a new era? Society isn’t going to adapt to Atha’lin rule so easily. Not after decades of rumors. A union of the old and new – Ilves and Atha’lin – could be just the solution.” He was close. You could feel his breath.

“Though, I admit, it is not the reason I ask,” he added playfully. “I’ve never chased the feeling of love. So of course, right when I do want something, it appears. Before I couldn’t imagine a life with you in it, not after our initial falling out. Now I can’t imagine one without you, where we both toil for Serulla, together. I admit, you were the one thing that made it bearable.”

There was a deep-set disturbance within you. It racked your entire body in a profound hollowness, as if you had no skeleton, no organs. You could tell him to back away. You could yell, as you did so often in the past. But this was different. This was a Zaros reborn in what he cited to be your love, not a schoolyard bully or political adversary. He could have nothing to do with you anymore.

But he was here, pouring his deepest confession into a request.

Your hand in marriage.

And you could think of no fate worse.

When you failed to respond, he went on. “I understand your hesitancy,” he murmured and knelt before you. “But earis, my dear earis, the lifetime we spent without each other was our darkest. I haven’t forgotten those late-night discussions.”

Sleep-deprived and bored of studying, the two of you had taken to revealing secrets in the library’s candlelight. Both of you uttered things never once said aloud. Admissions of alcoholism among them.

You also had done things never spoken of again.

The kiss flooded back to you – it was reckless, but as you watched Zaros that one evening, you felt your resolve slip. Maybe you weren’t so hopeless. Maybe romance could be in your future, ironically with the man who’d once convinced you otherwise.

But when your lips had met, it came rushing back to you. The revulsion, not with him, but the act, its implications…

That must have been what convinced Zaros to do this, you realized. You’d tricked him with your own fickle desire.

And your horror slipped into an intoxicating guilt.

“We did it once, do you remember? We could try again. It’s a familiar dance, we just need to follow the steps.”

“We were kids.” You broke on the last word.

Drawling realization dawned on Zaros’ expression as he understood this bashfulness was not a byproduct of flattery.

An eon stretched between you.

Eventually, “I’m sorry, Zaros, but no.” It was barely above a whisper.

When you mustered up the strength to look at him fully, the unravelment stunned you. Gone was the pristine, newly-crowned Eminence, and in his place was a heaving shadow of a man. His throat and chest bobbed to unsteady rhythms. His hair, fraying from their pinpoints.

Gone was the lovesick bleary-eyed king who dreamed again beyond his gardens and politics. You did not know who had replaced him, only that this mask of Zaros’ was one unique to this very moment – one of unadulterated heartbreak, so crushing you almost heard his paper heart crumble.

Now was your turn to take the lead.

“It was never you,” you said delicately, if only because your voice was hoarse enough. “If it were anyone, it would be you. But it’ll never be anyone.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“I don’t really either.” You exhaled, a mockery of laughter. “But I know it to be true.”

You took a steadying breath.

“It felt treasonous to admit that before, but I’m no longer expected to be the next link in my family. Even now, you call me ‘earis’ — it is all I’ve been designed to be. And what is a dynasty meant if it cannot be continued?”

You shook, grappling for the windowsill.

“That expectation, the need to marry was suffocating. I know you’ve felt it, even for someone who’s not only capable of experiencing it, but has. How do you think I felt, unable to? I thought I was nothing.”

‘Nothing’ was an apt word, but far from encompassing. It did not express the loneliness, of watching the world turn to synchronized heartbeats, your own just paces too slow. It did not express the fear of still be propagated up to suitors, your skin crawling in disgust at the idea of actually pursuing their offers. It did not express the guilt to your mother, but even you could barely articulate that.

“Being earis warped my perception of life in many ways. You were the first to call it out. But what you never saw was how I distorted countless emotions into what I thought was ‘love.’ You only suffered from it. I’m sorry, Zaros. I am. For what it’s worth, I thought I did love you. And you’re the only person who made me second guess myself. Because, in truth, I do love you.”

You gently took him by the shoulders, making you face each other fully.

The silence echoed. Static ringing in your ears died down, and you realized just how close you were to tears — hot and pitiful, welled up, ready to eternally shatter your attempt at civility.

You swallowed. For years you’ve lived with a lie in your heart, plastered to your expressions as you feigned flattery and blushes. What was one more conversation? You could hold it together.

But your voice came out pathetic, and you realized that with the denouncement of your title and life, one you swore you hated, your gift mimicry fled you as well. “Just… not in the way you want me to.”

Zaros scanned your face, brows pushed to an expectant furrow. You lowered your gaze.

“You are my closest friend. You alone understand me, understand the Trials, understand everything. I would not have told you any of this if it weren’t for my deep, abiding love for you — but it is not romantic.”

Your breath hitched.

“You are a brother to me. The world whispers about how the Atha’lins may have taken my first, but in truth, they gave me the only one I’ve ever known.“

Your hand relaxed on his sleeve, though the other looped down to grip his forearm.

“Just please,” your voice breaking, “don’t hate me again.”

And in some act of cosmic irony, you finally let him go.

A cool breeze wafted into the hallway. The open lattice chilled, night having fully set in. Even the moonlight seemed to sharpen as its pallor against the flooring turned to a silver. The world had come to a bleary fuzz.

It wasn’t until Zaros spoke that it resharpened.

“I’m nobodies replacement,” he said.

What?

“Mourn however you like, but don’t bring me into it. I never made you out to be my grandmother.”

“Zaros that’s not what I—“

“Don’t.” He raised a gloved hand. Lines stressed his face, and a quiver you’d never seen before attacked his bottom lip. He didn’t look at you.

You didn’t know what to say, how to rebuttal.

“You could’ve just said ‘no’.” His voice broke on the syllable. It took you a moment to process: Zaros Atha’lin, crying before you. “You don’t have to lie.”

You opened your mouth.

“But instead, you still insist on humiliating me – is that the only thing you know how to love?” He reared to look at you. Bitterness poisoned every word that dripped from his mouth. “You’ve lead me on for how many years!?”

“I didn’t know!” You practically screamed it, voice cracking as all restraint left you. “And I’m sorry, Zaros, I am – I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did, that’s all you’re good for! Taking and taking and taking… some Eminence you would’ve been.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I can believe I,” he kept stuttering over his words, “I diluted myself into believing you would ever change. That you’d ever be worth my time.”

“Is this… are you fucking serious?” Your nails bit into your palms. “Was that all I was to you, some affair? Can you really not believe in us being friends again like you could me swooning for you?”

“I never thought of you as an affair! I wanted us to be together—”

“Well that’s what I want, too! I wanted my best friend back—”

“You want your brother back.” “No! I want you!”

Both of you panted, baring into one another. You realized you kept saying the wrong things. Each time you bordered on what could be a confession, a small spark lit in his eyes.

He was egging you on. If he couldn’t get it his way, he’d find another way for his sick satisfactions.

Leech bastard.

Just as you were about to retaliate once more, Zaros stiffened, as if reading your mind.

“You were right about once thing. There can only be one.” He sounded like he was puking the words up, unwanted but spilled nonetheless. His expression was far more violent. “And for Serulla’s sake, lets be glad it was me.”

He turned away, feet pounding against the floor.

When he reached the stairwell, you saw his figure pick up your cup left on the banister. You looked away before you could see him drink from it.

[psalmsofpsychosis]

........ ...... :/

[acid-ixx]

brutus: out for blood (villain au concept)

ft. neglectful yandere! bruce wayne x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: did anybody ask for this? no! did i decide to write this anyways? abso -fucking-lutely. is this a rantfic? mayybee. anyways, this is not my best piece nor will anything i write be my best piece but i just love destroying my happiness with angst and altho writing a very anxiety ridden mc is fun, i also love to dabble in sadomasochistic traits for a main character. like i said, i am not proud of this but i figured i should post something. erm... leave comments bec i love reading whatever stuff u guys have in store hehe.

you've tasted blood on your tongue far longer than you've felt the loving touch of a family.

it's metallic. it's salty. it twists every vein in your gut.

it tastes of broken metal pipes in playgrounds, destructive tantrums and broken dreams, of skipped classes and detention rooms, of ripped test papers and missed diplomas. it reminds you of your bitter past every single time; one you swore you've buried six feet deep into the ground. a burning memory with nothing more than heartaches and heartbreaks.

you taste blood whenever they reject your advances for even a single moment of bonding time. you feel it pumping slowly, steadily, painfully whenever you stumble upon a room, only to see them, smiles and all, huddled together in a group with junk food in their hands and a movie playing in that stupid flat screen tv. you know it's the only thing accompanying you whenever he misses another event in your school. it becomes the only friend you have whenever you're alone, inside your too-small room, with shatters glass scattered around and bruised knuckles.

blood, for most, is vile, utterly repulsive. it reeks in every corner of a room, its scent is overpowering, it stains, it's hard to clean. it imprints. and it will always remind you it's there, in the depths of your body, curdling and boiling and ready to burst out of the seems every time you rip at your skin with a razor sharp blade. blood has always been your only friend, like a scar that will never fade away.

yet you embrace crimson like it was the color of your soul, and accept how it's the only color you allow in your grim life. black has never provided you solace, but red allowed for a mantra of emotions to trail into your very being.

blood. it's more homely than you let it out to be.

and you're far more familiar with it than anything else. you cradle it like an unwanted child, you kiss its wounds, allow it to fester and grow into an abhorrent disease that crawls like a lump in your throat that you could never get rid of.

in moments of solace, of quaint prayers and hours of kneeling into the floor— it is the thing that slides on cold, hard tiles. it is the warmth, the numbness, the thing that seeps out of your bruised knees, your scratched neck and your thighs with fingernails buried deep into flesh.

you've come to love blood, cherish it even.

especially if it's your own.

especially if it came from the punch of none other than your father.

left, right, left, right.

his punches were cruel and his kicks can easily crush bones into powder. he demands answers with every strike he delivers, he exudes an energy far more adrenaline based than yours. batman is methodical in the way he moves, the way he acts, and you're not; you're impulsive, you had no plans to counter the towering man— no counter for the brutal hits he lay upon you. you let him, you open every doorway world to beat your body black and blue, with red painting the canvas as a finishing touch.

he's stronger than you, and every time he bashes your head into the wall, the urge to spit into his face, to piss him off, to laugh at him and his Idiocracy; it all becomes stronger.

yet all you do was allow him multiple openings, denying yourself the pleasure of attempting to even take your abandoned gun at the corner and shoot at his cranium— you want him to suffer, even if it costs you your mobility by the near future, fuck it.

up, down, to the side, then an uppercut to your jaw and you're nearly depleted of anymore moves to counter. you want to seem like you've given up; but you want him pissed off, enough to punch you 'til blood seeps into the fibers of your mask. until your face starts bruising, until your nose breaks, until he finally rips your mask off and sees your face.

and he'll come to regret.

you shift to the side, and ignore the sting of your throat, the lull of your head and the soreness of your entire body.

because if you hadn't dodged, then your head would've left an imprint on the walls. you would've preferred that now, rather than the disgusting feeling of sentimentality that creeps into your heart at the implication that his blows were slowly, but surely, weakening.

he's holding back, you hold back a sneer.

as if he actually cares about you.

maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. you know he cares far more deeply for his enemies than he does you, and you hate how glad you are at the pride that finally, just finally are you being acknowledged. at the opposite end of his side, as enemies. but for once you can feel the care he offers others, most of which were nonexistent back when you were just some... nobody.

batman never kills; but he can hurt, he can injure, and he can destroy. and right now, you feel all the air leaving your body as the cloaked vigilante delivers the last punch to your ribcage.

you fall, on your hands and knees, a loud thump resounding through the empty abandoned building. all you hear are your crackling joints, and heavy breathing. heavy, like your eyelids, about to fall, about to shut until black encompasses your vision. if not for the remaining adrenaline coursing through your veins, you would've fainted— but you won't, you wouldn't, not until you see him, see his face.

the thumping in your heart beats louder, and your hands. god, they feel like jelly, it's burning, it's one step closer on collapsing under gravelly concrete and piercing skin into rocks. yet you're forbidden any time for grace, not when he lightly shoves you out of your position, and not when you fall to your sides, hands paralyzed, tears prickling against your cheeks at the pain that burns throughout your body.

"you don't deserve peace after shooting that family in front of that child, you know it."

his voice, domineering, absolutely fucking vibrating with a tremor of sheer anger. he directs his words at you, without empathy, without mercy. he wants you to learn to never mess with him in the streets of gotham. but you'll never... not until he notices you. fuck, you just want him to notice you. and now, he is, with utter vexation that causes a lump in your throat to form.

shit, you've never felt so happy.

it's when his tussled form — heavy, pitch-black boots slathered with crimson liquid — enters your sight that you cough, violently, out of breath, and you can feel it one second, then taste it in your tongue the next.

blood.

you grin, and slowly, ever-so eminently, did you spiral into a cackle. your throat gurgles crimson liquid, and yet it only builds into a cacophony of a broken record. you move your head, look through your nearly shredded domino mask, with so little strength to accompany you, to look at the man above you, eyes glinting with a glow never so alive until now.

you're genuinely so fucking happy.

batman, he who strikes fear into the hearts of gotham villains and civilians alike. he who protects the city at night. he whose name is said with wavering uncertainty— he's looking at you, only you.

'bruce wayne: my dad— is finally looking at me.'

and you! you're laughing, the sounds that emanate from your throat are so scratchy, so utterly decimated that it sounds like vultures feeding through a dead corpse; but you don't let your chuckles die down, because you're so, so happy.

he looks at you, with contempt, with disgust, you don't know; but you're still so overjoyed.

"y-yeah... it's me, i did it. are you proud of me...?" you ask as you look up, through the tears that flow out your eyes, through the grin that couldn't die down. he looks at you like you're insane, and you know he's confused, shifting uncomfortably as he gives someone a status update through the comms, his eyes never leaving your pathetic form—

you look at him like he means the world all throughout.

"call for red robin, i have one of the culprits," he orders through the intangible device, eyes squinting as he takes you in— you whose chuckles slowly calmed down, as your breathing finally becomes heavier, as blood, yours, seem to seep into clumsily made apparel. you, who bruce realized seem too oddly familiar, too small, too childish, whose moment of spiraling insanity is too damn innocent to ignore.

you're not like the typical rogue he encounters, no. and right before you finally allow sleep to overcome you, you muster the last of your energy, to stare back at him with shining eyes, expectant, and like a child's, you ask with the meekest voice.

"hey... dad, i have a surprise." scratchy, absolutely broken, yet spilling with joy, with... your last word right before you continue, bruce's heart thumps ever the slightest faster.

"take my mask off, please?"

crimson began to overtake your entire body, and bruce should've never complied with your... request, but as he kneels and finally gets a grasp of what you truly look like, he notices the frailness, the vulnerability, as if you were never built for... combat. with just how quickly you succumb to the depths of rest, with how oblivious you are to the fact that if it were anyone else, they would've killed you.

you're not properly trained, you fight out of impulse, and he knows it with just how swift you gave up midfight.

when he pulls the domino mask (which seems oddly inspired by the shape of... his vigilante partners, the robins...) off your face, did his heart finally hastened its pace, loud thumping crawling its way to his ears, his eyes registering your face: its form, its shape, your eyes, your nose—

all similar to his, all an amalgamation of your mother's, too.

no... wait, no.

it's not...

it's not his... child?

you?

your eyes, flickering one last time stared at him, softly, like that of a child who looks at their father with pride like nothing else. your hand, it shakes, it shivers, as your fingers find its way creeping to his hand, holding your mask. fingers so dainty, now pulverized bones lay atop his shivering hand, tenderly, as if trying to comfort the very same man who has nearly killed you.

batman— no, bruce looks at you. at what he's done, and only now did he realize his greatest mistake. a child, his child, one whose innocence retained through heinous acts, now a villain, whose actions were all a testimony to merely wanting their father's attention.

he failed you, his child. he failed to protect you, who he has never held up close until now— as your body is hastily taken into his arms. so small, so easily wrapped around his body, so unbefitting of committing criminal activity. now bloodied and laid into barren ground by their very own father.

bruce wayne never felt this much terror, for nearly killing his child.

this, this day marks his sin.

and you? dearest you feel like today is your greatest day.

crimson, nearly every part of you is stained with that putrid color.

yet blood has always been your best friend, no? and right now as you bleed into the arms of your father, you find yourself grateful that it is the last thing you see before a black cloak wraps around you, before black fills your entire line of sight.

short rant ahead: another author's note??? wow. yeah this was such a hard drabble to write. plsplspls leave a comment or some sort of input. anything will do. ive been so demotivated to write lately and i feel like anything i write is just, so bad 😭 like is my pacing good? are the emotions out of place? am i even doing this right ?? i don't know, and i feel like every time i post something i always put up expectations on myself that I should've done better so yeahh. is this attention seeking behavior? probably. but i don't get how people have come to like the stuff i write when i hate whatever i write hence why im in a constant cycle of hiatuses and short breaks. and really, it's just so hard to come into terms with things and i need input lest i accidentally get into a year or two of hiatus, lmaoo.

[persicipen]

emotionally charged sex ノ zhongli

₊ ˙ ⊹ . morax fakes his death to escape the erosion that would otherwise eat his soul and spirit. to have his plan succeed, he had to keep it secret even from you, his beloved of many years. now that it’s revealed to you, you approach zhongli after he unexpectedly shows up in liyue harbour after days you spent on mourning him.

ৎ୭ — · · 4.6k ノ afab gn reader — sponsored through @ficsforgaza project ノ reader is a long-living adeptus loyal to geo archon ノ zhongli shapeshifts into a half-dragon because reader is into it lol ノ size kink . big dragon dick ofc ノ lots of biting and marking ノ teasing and playful zhongli ノ unprotected sex . cumming inside ノ emotional confessions etc.

This felt like a betrayal. The worst kind.

The afternoon sun was the witness of your meltdown as it seeped through the intricate timberwork of the windows, liquid gold pouring on the floors and turning dust into diamonds dancing in the stuffy air moved only by your screams and wails. A heartbreaking serenade to the one and only you thought dead — standing before you like a pillar of stone, accepting the tantrum and tears thrown at him.

To see his extended cobalt hands, now, of all times, feels more like a curse, a violent reminder that you cannot compare to his longevity, to his wisdom. If he’s not willing to share his plans with you, you’re no different from any of his servants, any of the people of Liyue. A little fickle of life along the shining thread of history, nothing more than a name that appears and disappears when the time comes.

If this is the treatment you get after being told you’re the most precious gem laid upon his open palms, his one and only, the other half he’s been missing for centuries before he has finally found you, then what’s the point of feeling these heavy sobs inside your lungs? What’s the point of moving, of looking, of trying when it can all be gone in an instant?

To be together with him.

Zhongli, Morax, Rex Lapis, Geo Archon… No matter the title, no matter the name, you know him for who he is.

For he’s someone you love.

He draws his touch down your body, his carbon fingers leaving a golden dust along their path as they sink into the soft side you so willingly arch to get the most out of the fleeting contact. Such apology will not work on you, but he’s aware. He’s not trying to make you forgive him, no. What is stirring within his cunning mind is to make you submit once again to his rule and deem him as godlike, as you won’t focus any more on the commotion caused by his faked death. Oh, he may listen later in delight to your complaints that he should not use his divinity against you this way. To prove you still love him beneath the disappointed visage.

Unavoidable sensation that blooms from his bones whenever he sees you like that — frustrated and on the verge of tears — still clinging to the might and the faint glow of his geo powers like a lost soul towards the light. He’s a little unserious about it, a tiny guilty pleasure he excuses whenever he has the time to annoy you, as if you two weren’t bound by the contract older than some riverbeds cutting through the plains.

Seems like you also forget about it in such heated moments as this one.

The hollowness left after he draws his touch away has you pursue him with your hips, chasing the bittersweet heat of his palms pressed flat against your chest, close to the steaming heart that lives inside your ribcage.

“Ah, so I was right, in the end?” He smiles faintly, eyes shining softly, no strong emotions found in his voice. “Missing me dearly these past few days, were you? A loyal thing you are, maybe even the most loyal.”

“My Archon, you cannot simply— no, this is exactly what is hurting me the most. That you can fool everyone into believing you are gone. Even me…” How can you maintain the discussion when your voice breaks down at the selfish thought of what he may think of you?

Are you not overstepping, claiming that you are more important than the precious people of Liyue? Or is this exactly where you should hold your ground, reminding your Archon, your dear man in this life, that he should love you more?

“I wish you had told me about it first… I want to help you. But all I’ve been doing these past few days is trying to digest the news you have given me… too late.”

“Love,” His voice wraps around you like a dark silk, strong yet so gentle with you as if you’re his beloved vase made of paper-thin glass.

How tacky of him to consider such endearment out of nowhere will work on you instead of stirring your anger further into a frenzy.

Silent, giving him the benefit of doubt, you let him continue.

“Don’t cry, my love. I should have thought better before withholding this burden from you. I needed to do it in order to keep you all safe.”

The very next moment, his hold is on your face, soft enough not to leave marks, but also steady enough to sink into the swell of your cheeks. A careful thumb sweeps the skin under your eye, his gaze a blazing gold melting the glossy surface, bringing out the scent of salt — the forevermore bittersweet memory of one of the gods you two used to invite to sit by the same table, no longer here — and thin wet trails that form even when you squeeze your eyelids shut.

“I know you must’ve been worried.” His voice is silky as always, as if speaking through layers of fine fibre he himself weaved with his obsidian hands. “I firmly believe you trust me enough to understand that I did what was necessary. And that I intend to repay each hour you’ve spent fretting for my life.”

The intention is pure, yes. With the last breath uttered with the finished sentence, he leans in to kiss you. A chaste gesture, like a greeting, rather than a confession of centuries old desire. No teeth, no tongue — the undying devotion lingers in the press of lips on yours. It’s an intimate promise to correct the misjudged solitude he’s mistakenly given you.

At first you’re taken aback by his behaviour, your gaze following him, along with your body when he leans back and into the cushions behind him, a river pulling you with the current.

His silken touch dances over your skin, setting sparks as they go down to your jawline and towards your neck, palm slowly settling around the curve of your throat.

“Is this my punishment? To endure your kind caresses with a heart that is still furious?” You whisper in a tame voice, asking for more.

Though you wish to appear unbothered, it still hurts. The golden serpent you are, slithering to make your way into his arms, contradicting the words hanging in the stuffy air between your mouths.

You crave him.

Even if you want to make him feel guilty, you still have been missing him too much to pass up on this opportunity to have him closer, to feel his skin on yours again.

“That’s exactly what I had in mind.” Zhongli nods in a short move, observing your reactions.

When you don’t push him away, his smile grows warmer, stretching lips and taking away the focus from those smouldering golden eyes you often fall into like a rabbit in a trap.

“Will you let me make it up to you? To be reminded how much you mean to me, so that we can share in happiness once more.”

“Yes. You better…”

The touch of his kiss lingers there, though you’re no longer aware of it as he prolongs the contact with your cheek — rough like granite despite his gentle nature — and you cannot but laugh a little at the idea of an ancient dragon trying to seduce you into forgiveness.

How do you not notice his scaly hands undoing the ribbons holding your robes in place, piece by piece, until he has access to your naked skin?

Your nervous laughter stirs an emotion in him, pulling him out of this feigned playfulness, and he exhales.

Amidst the desperate breaths losing rhythm, escape words you two shared twice, maybe thrice in the past millennium. They ring within your mind, pleasured moans like prayers for him, mixed with your faint hisses and mutters of his titles. It’s a perfect calligraphy written on the wall of your hearts that separates you from others, because you’re no one but his ��� whether you live as his servant or his lover.

Always marked with his name, carved into your flesh.

With the growing desire and your fingers running up and down his sides, catching on the growing scales from beneath the tunic, swelling his slender body into a dominant entity, you grab onto his marbled muscles, suddenly aware of the difference that he assesses between your silhouettes. That is he who’s given an ability to shapeshift, to mould his visage into whatever he desires; you remain the same, forever easy to spot for his aureate irises.

“Oh? Do I sense a preference for roughness this time?” He says in a mirthful tone, placing his hand over yours when you try to adjust your touch. “Why the rush?”

“Your arrogance— no, I will not indulge your humours.” You sigh with a pout as you shift closer, thighs snug around his waist, fists riding up his shoulders, opening up the tunic in the process. “First you must satisfy me before I consider remission.”

There’s a fond laugh that comes from his throat, pushing a tiny puff of warm air on your face. “Ah, so we’ve come to terms. Does it mean I have your permission to please you however I want?”

You freeze at the notion he presents, because it could be both your favourite game and a way to completely break your mind and body when he inevitably slips into his lustful fantasy. Of course, you don’t oppose such ideas when your own vision for the upcoming events is based on similar principles, but the doubt makes you narrow your eyes at him.

“I allow it.”

“My my…” His lips touch your earlobe, a chuckle stirring deep in his chest when he hears you whine and feels you squirm in his lap, “You really do desire for something out of the ordinary, don’t you?”

As soon as you open your mouth, Zhongli kisses you, over and over again, down the neck, nibbling on your collarbone while his teeth shape into fangs and his tongue lengthens as it traces a damp trail down your jugular. Soon the sharpness starts to graze your skin, along with the clawed fingers brushing over the front of your body, hard enough to leave vivid lines and slight scratch marks where they got tangled under the flimsy silk of your garment. Yet you only exhale, heated, temperature rising.

The light chafe from his touches sends shivers down your spine as the next follows.

“F-feels nice…” You whisper into the thick air, relaxing, gradually growing needier with every drag of his fingers along your sides, hugging you so tightly that he may as well become one. “More, I want more of you.”

But no matter how sweetly you plead, there’s no rush to his movement. As if he’s calculating every next step in advance, he brings you into a proper embrace, two living beings pressed together — oh how you can feel his heartbeat on your own, matching the rhythm, powerful enough to echo through your ribcage.

When you lay your head on his shoulder, there’s a faint scent of sandalwood emanating from his collarbones. Or maybe it’s the pungent fragrance of the osmanthus wine you’d found him earlier sipping on? Either way, it wraps you up in comfort, enough to dull your senses and not notice a curious touch sneaking between your legs, playfully groping any curve and any angle along the way, squeezing the softness like to measure if you’re still relaxed in his arms.

“You’ve made me worried I would have to take hours to prepare you…” Zhongli says as he hears you exhale heavily, followed by a tiny whine from you when his fingers slowly rub the wetness sticking to the delicate folds. “But you’re wet like never before.”

“Oh, it is—!” You move your hips closer, instinctively seeking out more friction — more of anything he’s willing to give.

Just a little. Please…

Maybe then he’ll slide his hand further in, though instead of listening to your silent request, he whispers about your pussy getting so excited when he’s not around for a while and then back for you to touch him.

The amused voice causes a fire to engulf your face, making you feel how a fresh wave of embarrassment stirs your heart and muddles your mind even more than his palm cupping your mound.

You clutch onto his shoulders and bury your head deeper into his collarbone, letting him lift your hips up and drag a long finger down your slit — something so insignificant to him, yet it has you clenching your thighs and grab tighter, desperate for more, more, more. Enough of that teasing, the fleeting caresses. What you need is to feel him as real and might like stone, pressing on your body with all his weight. But the good and loyal servant you are, you wantonly yelp as he pokes at your entrance, coaxing out of it another rush of wetness.

He shushes you and brings his free hand over your mouth, placing the heel of his palm under your chin, then tilts your head up to watch you. He’s excited to see you squirming and thrashing about in his arms as soon as he plays around your hole, pulls your folds apart and together again.

You inhale harshly through your nose, drooling on the elegant fist that smells faintly of tea leaves as he stops — bringing you down to sit on the growing erection under the half-undressed robes you tried to tear off his fragrant body. There’s nothing to hide from him, no need to disguise the obvious lust dwelling in the quivering breaths when you assess the hefty girth rising underneath your needy cunt. You’re one motion away from making him take his clothes off completely, reveal all the darkness and amber-coloured scales along with the striking yellow irises gazing into your eyes.

But what about you?

You shudder and arch your back when he pulls you closer, almost dropping onto the hard bulge beneath. It’s so difficult to control the desperate jerks of your hips. Delirious before he even takes care of you properly, you use all your strength to bring him down to his knees, messily roll down on the floor together. And he laughs! Laughs at the way you cross your legs behind his back, at how wet you’re making his clothes — eager and loud, almost hissing at him to make up for everything.

The throbbing in your abdomen becomes unbearable. The tension is growing as soon as you feel something coiling around your calf — one of the ribbons holding his robe, now untied and playfully wrapped to squeeze you there. That’s not all of it, no, not with the lustful god who has nothing else but time to waste. He gets comfortable enough to pull out his cock and leave it hanging just above your tense stomach whilst his eyes are busy taking in the visage of yours; mouth hanging open, frenzied, and burning with impatience.

He smiles, and you laugh when you finally, finally get what you want — he pushes himself inside. The feeling of being stretched to the fullest is like no other; it feels almost like the first time you two laid together. It’s a strange kind of happiness to look at his face and see him equally satisfied with the way your warm insides fit his girth.

A pleasure beyond any comparison, unified and shared, because you’re always getting too easily and too wet for him in no time, as if always ready to expect him to change into a dragon of Cor Lapis. He’s still human, though, and you whine to spur him to change, at least partially.

Zhongli takes you fast and hard, desperate even, sliding back and forth until his forehead touches yours. His mouth finds yours once again, teeth tugging at your lower lip, but it doesn’t last long before he has to break the kiss, throwing his head back, grunting. The more he moves his hips, the louder his breaths turn into growls, slow and deep. He’s way too impatient, despite all the games and pleasantries from earlier, grinding his pelvis against yours, missing you just as much as you have missed him.

Soon enough he finds a rhythm that suits him the most — needy, to say it the simplest way. His hand is under your nape, another one reaching down to massage your thigh, just for a few seconds until he allows the pleasure to consume him whole and—

It is pure bliss to hear him moan your name into your neck, and the gold in his veins shimmers brightly.

Then it comes, the best part of your shared intimacy; that strange and unique sensation when the black emblems of his geo powers spiral up his arms, marking the insides of his wrists, clavicles, fanning out on the sides of his neck. The intensity of the sensation varies, from an intense ache when he decides to pull out and ram back inside you in one swift motion to the sharp pain when he clutches your waist, shifting you lower onto his pulsating cock.

Dizzy from pleasure, but instead of relishing in it, you think how easily you could’ve lost it…

“No, please, don’t leave me!” You sob, stricken again with the image of his lifeless body, the always springy serpent body limp against the stone courtyard. An icy blade of a vision amidst the waves of intimate warmth.

“I’m deep inside you. Can’t you feel it well enough?”

“Closer. Deeper, please…”

He forces a kiss on your lips and then does exactly as you wish, pushing himself fiercely into your slick flesh. Balls snugly pressed, taut and heavy, to your skin, just as his girth carves your insides to its form. Throbbing fullness swirls into the all-consuming sensation that throbs down to your toes and tips of fingers, melting in the touch of his sharpened nails.

Like molten gold enveloping whatever it’s poured onto, you cling to him with an incessant longing drawing from your heart. Enough to ignore the subtle abrasions covering your inner thighs when they repeatedly brush the chocolate carbon scales of his waist.

As you see stars and the landscape of Liyue bathed in the hues of red and orange from beyond the terrace, a waning moon, your skin burning with love marks where he nibbled and sucked.

Like a serpentine shadow of a dragon, Zhongli looms over you with his broad shoulders and rich features as you lay spent on the floor, among the dishevelled garments and cushions, leaning to the railing of the seating to gain some composure back, adjusting to having his cock sheathed wholly.

A coy smile peeks from behind the silk fan of your lashes, peering up at him. He holds your cheek tenderly, praising you with a soft hum of satisfaction for having taken him well.

But, of course, you ask him if he thinks this is enough to make up for your temporary separation. To have his soothing voice narrate that the few days felt like forever. You listen with closed eyes and trembling fingers, awed by how this man could have stayed silent about his plan — now a string of compliments weeping down his elegant lips to heal your worries with a honey layer of love.

The thorns still dig into your soul when you realise the permanence of the pain he’s caused you.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

What matters is the bond you share as the burning gaze from beneath the mahogany silk of hair rakes over your body and the shallow gasps you take to soothe the invasion in your lower belly.

“A struggle is what I see. Such a sweetling you are, brave in words yet shaking like a leaf as you try to act as if my cock doesn’t ravage your insides.” Zhongli remarks with a mocking tone, though his eyes twinkle with kindness when you roll yours at him. “Need I remind you, my love, that it’s you who has called upon me deeper?”

But now, with him having grown significantly in size, you’re still considering how much of a challenge this could become. Still, his affection makes your heart throb with want. And, again, you find yourself following the dangerous path leading to the eternity he offers you, with eyes wide open.

You ask him to thrust deeper, pulling his shoulders closer until your fingers sink into the tough substance that is his muscle. A mellow yelp comes from your throat as you feel the heat he radiates overpower your whole body, eclipsing the autumn wind and bringing the smell of dry leaves and bark — reminding you that it was him who shaped the entirety of your shared homeland.

And even if Liyue changes over time, the sight you’re granted tonight is one for your memories only, because no matter how long you may live, no mortal has seen their beloved god like this. Lustful, glimmering like a star from the sheen of sweat covering his proud chest. For years, he’s held back from not turning into this form in your company, to keep the essence of Rex Lapis still here for you to admire in awe. A feat which you praise with your uncertain kisses that grow messy as soon as his hand wraps around your waist and pulls you back on his shaft. The warm stretch you feel once more between your thighs makes you tilt your head; see how he disappears inside you.

You wail and take the best of this position, arms wrapped around his neck, giving him full control over the speed and force behind the push. You guide him with your heels pressing to his lower back, rubbing the smooth scales as if they were his clothes. But it seems like this gesture spurs him to repeat the movements even faster and deeper, pushing you onto the hard floor — body rocking to the rhythm he dictates.

“Take it as my token of gratitude for having allowed me this chance to relish you anew,” Zhongli mutters in a hoarse voice as his tongue flicks between your parted lips.

Promising words mingle with the filthy sounds of arousal. And when the images of a few hours ago become blurry and fade away, you notice the ancient dragon gazing down at you from the embrace of his ruddy horns. It’s those beady golden eyes that shift into bright crimson from time to time, overrun with passion, as they observe your body with greed. How your own skin is now a canvas for his letters drawn by his fangs and talons, decorating every curve, every sensitive spot — each causing you to flutter and clench around his cock, hungry to claim your being.

And all this time he would laugh at your obvious attempts to catch his eyes, sending a shiver up your spine, kissing you in between praises, from time to time mumbling against your plump lips, “I could spend the eternity like this. In you.”

“You say this now, but what I need to hear is that you will respect me when it comes down to another serious decision.” You hum out in a tired voice, brushing your fingers through his mane.

Though he seems to have not listened, or at least chose not to react, he instead growls and makes you open up for him again, biting into your flesh like a beast. The physical confessions of love he leaves all over your shoulders, where you can easily hide them under the robes, may look like simple bruises from far away, yet there’s an intricate pattern to them, written in his own ancient tongue — no one will be able to read them but him.

That you are to be his alone and stay forever by his side.

Such a greedy dragon, taking whatever he desires in hope you will forgive him, making you whine as the flames of arousal start to lick at your ankles once more. But it’s not something that needs to be asked about now, when you two are just about to reach your highs.

Zhongli keeps you close, pounding your soppy pussy with reserve and intent, at times holding onto your waist to feel the swell of his cock stretching you. And just like this, he whispers, giving you orders — to meet his thrusts halfway, to pull him in deeper, and to let him listen to your heated moans when he curls his hips to conquer your core.

A semblance of hunger itself, always calling out for you while chasing the blissful finish with single-minded determination, so different from the usual languid pace.

Each word spoken is followed by a stinging kiss, the dampness on his chin dripping down his neck, making you feel how primal of an instinct that is to come together.

Your insides tremble with lust, quaking under the building pressure of his release, squeezing him tightly as your pleasure erupts in a wave of puffy breaths and slick heat gushing out around his girth. He chokes on his own saliva, husky moans spilling between his parted lips. The grand finale is right there, somewhere beyond the horizon of your sweaty bodies, so close yet not in reach — each drag of his erection becoming a slow torture to endure.

And that’s when he clenches his jaws and rolls his eyes, hands wrapping around your ankles to keep them wide apart as his thrusts grow erratic and quick, pounding you into the floor. Every sound he makes, like a deep rumble coming from the centre of the earth. A huff here and a broken call for your name there — along with praises of your heavenly body — while the searing liquid pours into your cunt, filling your womb until it starts to drip out with every movement.

It feels like a seal is carved on your souls, deepened by each ragged thrust as he lets himself succumb to this mortal desire, bucking into you and groaning out for you to stay. With his heated weight leaning on you, trapping you in his powerful arms, he stays for a while inside you, thrusting just a bit to spur the overstimulated nerves and force a few more whimpers from you.

Finally, he laughs in relief and rubs your nose with his, pulling away with a wink. “Would you be so kind to remind me of what happened before we got carried away?”

“How rude!” You exclaim, puffing your cheeks out as you push him off you, gently though. “You might have explained yourself well, but I’m still upset with you for tricking me like that.”

Zhongli looks at you from the corner of his eye, fully aware of your sudden change in demeanour, and shakes his head with an amused sigh. A gentle roll of his body brings out a still wanton moan from your throat, awakened with the rub of his cock inside you.

“Now, now, darling, I see your mood has changed finally to a brighter one.” He grins and brushes his finger over your bottom lip. “Or are you just unwilling to admit that you cannot stay mad at me for long?”

You bite your tongue so as not to give him the satisfaction of correcting his statement. Instead, you mutter, rolling your eyes at his arrogant expression.

“How can I say no to such an endearing face?”

The moment those words leave your lips, Zhongli withdraws from your warm body, nibbling at your jawline with his usual gentleness. You see how your mingled cum and essence drip down his legs, how it paints the floorboards with pearly marks, though soon the crispy wind brings your attention back to your own state. It is an oddly pleasant sensation of the fresh breeze playing with your soaked petals and aching thighs — sore from clasping hard ‘round the wide stature of your lover.

Like you never plan to let go of him. And that is true.

₊ ˙ ⊹ . AUTHOR’S NOTE — hewwo! happy kinktober! something that was supposed to be a first part of this year’s kinktober, but i decided to post it individually and not bother with making an entirely new masterlist just for five stories. it would make sense if i were prepared better but as we all know, life can be weird, and i could not make it. regardless, i hope this was enjoyable, and that i didn’t mess up with the new labelling — if i should turn it back into basic fem reader, please let me know :3

[tqlepatiia]

words we can’t take back | b. barnes

masterlist | pt.2

summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky lashes out, leaving y/n hurt by his harsh words. now drowning in guilt, bucky must find a way to apologize before it’s too late, but y/n isn’t ready to forgive so easily. can he fix what’s been broken?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: angst, emotional distress, heartbreak, toxic relationship dynamics, arguments, mention of mental health struggles, potential triggers related to emotional abuse, strong language, and feelings of inadequacy.

word count: 5.9k

The mission had been a disaster from the start. Tension crackled in the air, the kind that always seemed to precede trouble. Bucky Barnes felt it in his bones, a tightness that grew with every wrong turn. It had been a simple extraction, but when they walked into a trap, chaos erupted. The sounds of gunfire ricocheted around him, the explosions reverberating through his chest like a war drum, drowning out his thoughts. But when he glanced at you—his partner, his anchor—something twisted in his gut.

In the aftermath, the wreckage of what had gone wrong stretched before him. Bodies lay scattered, their lifeless forms stark against the smoky haze, and the acrid scent of burning metal stung his nostrils. You stood there, bruises marring your skin, and your eyes, once sharp and defiant, now dulled by exhaustion. Bucky had seen too much, been through too much, and the anger inside him simmered, ready to boil over. How could this have gone so wrong?

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his voice a harsh whip in the stillness. His jaw was clenched, and his glare could’ve burned holes into you. “You almost got yourself fucking killed, you know that?”

Your breath caught, heart sinking at the venom in his tone. “I was doing my job, Bucky. I thought you had my back.”

“Had your back?” He stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides, every muscle taut with pent-up fury. The adrenaline from the fight morphed into something more destructive. “You’re a goddamn liability! You keep throwing yourself into danger like you can’t be hurt. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The words hit you like a punch, each one a jagged edge cutting deeper than the last. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on you, suffocating. “I didn’t ask for a babysitter,” you shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. “Maybe I’m the one who should be questioning if you’re fit to be my partner!”

Bucky’s expression hardened, eyes narrowing like a predator’s. This isn’t just about the mission, he thought, grappling with the frustration of watching you walk into danger. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have to worry about saving your ass all the damn time. If I wanted to deal with this shit, I’d find someone who actually knew how to handle themselves. I’m sick of dragging you through every godforsaken fight!”

Every accusation felt like a dagger, twisting in the wound he had just opened. You could see the pain and anger simmering in his eyes, but it was all directed at you. “You think I wanted this? I’m not the one who fucked up in the field! I thought we were a team!”

His laugh was bitter, devoid of humor, echoing against the wreckage around you. “Team? That’s a joke. You don’t get to call it a team when I’m the one stuck cleaning up your shit. I’m done with it. You’re not my equal; you’re just a goddamn burden.”

The air grew thick with tension, and you fought back tears, the tremor in your hands betraying you. “Maybe I should just leave, then,” you said, voice trembling but defiant. “If I’m such a problem, why don’t you find someone who doesn’t drag you down?”

The silence that followed was deafening. You turned away, trying to keep your composure, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back—a mix of anger and something softer, more vulnerable, that he refused to acknowledge. His heart pounded as the realization hit him: I pushed her away when she needed me the most. What the hell was I thinking?

As you walked away, the weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, suffocating. Each step felt like a fracture in your heart, the distance growing more unbearable with every inch. Bucky stood there, feeling the echoes of his harshness fill the void where your connection once thrived. The realization settled in, and he knew this wasn’t over. How the hell do I fix this?

But as the dust settled around him, all he could feel was emptiness, a tidal wave of regret crashing over him, leaving him alone in the aftermath of his own making.

Days blurred together into an indistinguishable mess. The tension between you and Bucky hung thick in the air, suffocating, wrapping around him like a vice grip. He paced the empty halls of the compound, the rhythmic echo of his boots against the cold metal floors mirrored the chaos in his mind. Each step felt heavier than the last, a relentless reminder of the moment that played on a loop in his head—the hurt in your eyes when his careless words had cut deep.

Memories flooded back: your laughter in the training room, the way you encouraged him during his darkest moments. He had crossed a line he never intended to, letting his anger spew out like poison, each word a dagger aimed straight at your heart. Guilt clawed at him, a beast gnawing at his insides, turning his stomach into knots. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, it felt like a punch to the gut, the weight of regret settling like a stone in his chest.

The silence of the compound was palpable, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. He’d find you in the training room, pouring every ounce of your energy into your workout, the fierce determination radiating off you like a fire. Your tear-streaked face haunted him, a ghost he couldn’t shake. You weren’t just a teammate; you were everything to him. The thought of losing you felt like ice water dousing his heart, leaving him gasping for air, desperate to rewind time.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam said one day, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, the faint scent of sweat and metal mingling in the air. “You good, or are you just gonna sulk like an old man all day?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky shot back, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, his eyes averted. He could feel Sam’s scrutinizing gaze piercing through his façade.

“Seriously, man, you think I can't see through that? There’s a damn storm brewing in that head of yours,” Sam pressed, his tone a mix of concern and teasing familiarity. “You gotta talk to her. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s like watching a damn dog chase its own tail—ain’t gonna end well, and I’m not about to sit here and watch you make a mess of it.”

Bucky nodded, but the weight of his guilt felt like chains wrapped tight around his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs. What the hell could he even say? The fear of facing you loomed larger than any mission he’d ever tackled—a monster lurking in the shadows, making him feel weak and exposed. He clenched his fists, jaw tightening, as he fought against the rising tide of anxiety.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall, fighting the urge to scream. He remembered how you had stood by him, even when the nightmares clawed at him in the night. You deserved better than his careless words, better than the pain he had caused. The metallic scent of sweat mixed with the lingering aroma of stale coffee filled the air, reminding him of the countless nights spent together, talking and laughing. Those memories felt like a beacon, drawing him closer to the confrontation he dreaded yet craved.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the wall, each step toward you heavy with uncertainty. His heart raced as he imagined your reaction—would you forgive him? The thought of laying his broken heart bare to you, the one person who meant everything, filled him with dread and hope.

As he approached, the distance between you felt like a chasm. He was ready to confront the mess he’d made, but the fear of your disappointment loomed over him like a dark cloud. Sam watched him go, shaking his head with a faint smile, knowing his friend was finally stepping up to make things right.

It was time to face the music, to turn back the clock on the mistakes he had made. The symbol of his guilt—the small, worn-out dog tag you had given him before a particularly tough mission—burned in his pocket, a constant reminder of the bond he desperately wanted to restore.

In that moment, he knew he had to find the courage to bridge the gap between them, to reclaim what was lost before it slipped through his fingers forever.

After what felt like a damn eternity, Bucky finally gathered the guts to knock on your door. Each knock echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you two. He stood there, heart pounding, fists clenched, feeling the weight of guilt that had settled in his chest like lead. Memories flooded his mind—your laughter during training sessions, quiet moments together in the compound, and the way your smile had once lit up even the darkest days. It all felt so far away now, a reminder of how easily he could lose it.

“Go away,” you called, your voice muffled but laced with hurt.

“Y/N,” he pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone. “I need to talk. Just… let me in, alright?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite grasp.

Silence hung in the air like a noose, heavy and suffocating. Each second stretched into an eternity, amplifying the tension until, finally, the door creaked open just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your face—red and puffy from tears, eyes shadowed with pain. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said coldly, arms crossed defensively, trying to shield yourself from the storm he had caused.

“I know. I messed up,” he replied, his voice thick with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “And I can’t—” He faltered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I can’t take back what I said. I was scared, and I lashed out. You mean too damn much to me for that. Just… let me explain.”

You stepped back, letting him in but hesitating, your anger and hurt crackling in the air like static electricity. Bucky could feel the tension radiating off you, could see how you trembled with barely contained rage. The faint hum of the compound’s machinery buzzed in the background, underscoring the silence between you.

“Bucky, you can’t just waltz in here and throw around apologies like they’re candy. It’s not that fucking simple,” you said, your voice shaking as emotions boiled over. “Do you even get what your words did to me? They cut deeper than you can imagine.”

The memories of your last argument flashed in his mind—how he had yelled, how his words had sliced through the fragile trust you had built. He could still hear your voice trembling, see the hurt in your eyes. It haunted him.

“I know it’s not,” he said, voice rising as frustration bubbled to the surface. “But you have to understand—I never meant to hurt you. I was scared as hell of losing you. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I took it out on you. I thought I could keep you safe, but I fucking failed, and I can’t live with that.” He avoided your gaze, staring at the floor, ashamed of the turmoil he had caused.

You turned your gaze away, fury igniting. “You think being scared gives you the right to hurt me? Those words stick with you. They don’t just disappear because you suddenly want to make things right. You shattered something in me, Bucky, and you expect me to just let it go?” The air was thick with the weight of your words, each one a dagger aimed at his heart.

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. “I’m not gonna pretend this doesn’t matter. I want to make things right. You’re not just some partner in this crazy shit; you’re everything to me. I’m so damn sorry, Y/N.”

A heavy silence fell between you, thick with unprocessed emotions. Tears glistened in your eyes, anger mixed with pain as you struggled to hold back the flood. Bucky could see your fingers trembling, as if you were fighting against the urge to reach out for him, to seek comfort from the very person who had hurt you.

“You’re sorry? That’s it? Do you think that’s enough? You can’t just toss around ‘I’m sorry’ and act like everything’s fine! Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the person you love turn on you like that?”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but the truth of your feelings hit him like a freight train. It shattered him, the realization crashing down harder than any blow he’d ever taken. “I didn’t mean to fuckin’ hurt you like that. I—”

“Didn’t mean to?” you snapped, frustration boiling over. “But you did! You meant every single word when you said I wasn’t enough! It’s like a poison, Bucky! Every time I look in the mirror, I see your words haunting me!”

“Y/N…” he pleaded, stepping closer, but you backed away, shaking your head fiercely. The space between you felt like an insurmountable chasm, filled with hurt and distrust.

“No! You don’t get to touch me. Not after what you said. I don’t want your pity. I want my trust back! I want to feel safe with you again, but how the hell can I when you’ve torn me apart like this?” The pain in your voice twisted like a knife in his gut.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he begged, desperation bleeding through his words. “I can give you space. I’ll listen—just don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you.” He reached out, almost instinctively, but stopped short, respecting your boundary. The small bracelet you used to wear, the one he had given you, lay forgotten on the table—its absence felt like a symbol of the trust now shattered between you.

“Maybe… maybe I need time,” you finally said, voice soft but resolute, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how to treat me with the love and respect I deserve. I can’t be your punching bag.”

“Take all the time you need,” he replied, his heart sinking deeper. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Just… I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.” His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears of a future without you.

You nodded slowly, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between you. Bucky turned to leave, each step dragging him down like a lead weight. The distant sounds of the compound faded as he walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to scream, to punch the walls, to erase the hurt, but he knew he had to be patient. You needed time, and he would wait, even if it felt like forever.

As he walked away, the door closing behind him, Bucky felt a hollow ache settle in his chest—a deep emptiness that screamed for your forgiveness, for your presence. But he also knew he deserved the pain, the anguish he had caused. The only thing that mattered now was making things right, even if it took an eternity.

Days turned into weeks, and Bucky kept his distance, lurking on the edges of your life like a goddamn ghost. He was always there, a shadow in the background, never truly present, waiting for the moment you’d find it in yourself to forgive him. It was a tormenting cycle for him, hanging around the periphery of your world, the weight of his own mistakes bearing down like an anchor. He often caught himself recalling the laughter you once shared, memories of late-night talks and quiet moments that now felt like a distant dream. Those memories twisted in his gut as he watched you from afar, stealing glances during training, his gaze lingering near the kitchen where you used to share coffee and laughter, searching for a connection that felt like it was slipping through his fingers. But every time he made a move, the pain in your eyes sent him retreating, a constant reminder of the hurt he’d caused and the love that now felt so fragile.

One evening, the hum of the common room enveloped you, filled with the clatter of dishes and faint laughter from the team, but all you could focus on was the ache in your heart. You were scrolling through your phone, desperately trying to distract yourself when Bucky appeared in the doorway, hesitant and guarded. Your heart clenched at the sight of him—a mix of longing and sorrow flooding you, drowning out the world around you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and rough, as if he was still wrestling with the demons of his past.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice flat, a careful mask of strength concealing the turmoil inside. You wanted to scream, to let him know how much his presence hurt, but part of you still craved the warmth he brought.

“Can we talk?” His words hung in the air like a fragile lifeline, one you weren’t sure you could grab onto.

You nodded, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. “Make it quick,” you shot back, your tone sharper than intended, trying to keep the emotions at bay.

He stepped closer, eyes searching yours with a desperation that twisted your gut. “I need to say it again—for everything. I know it doesn’t mean much after the shit I pulled, but I swear I’m trying to fix this. I’m really working on myself.” As he spoke, he clenched his fists, fingers digging into his palms, a physical manifestation of the guilt that gnawed at him. “I just… I can’t keep running from this. I need you to know that.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the pressure of his words weighing down on you. “I’m trying to work through it, Bucky. But I can’t pretend everything’s fine just because you say you’re sorry.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, frustration cracking his calm facade. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to meet your gaze. “But you need to understand how damn much you mean to me. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t let that happen.”

Your heart ached at his confession, but anger flared within you. “You hurt me, Bucky. You can’t just wipe that away with a few nice words.”

“I know, I know! I’m fucking sorry, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls. “I didn’t mean it. I was scared, and I lashed out. But you’ve gotta see how much I regret it, damn it!”

“Scared?” you spat, bitterness thick in your voice. “You don’t get to use your fear as an excuse for the pain you caused me!”

“Then what the hell do you want from me?” His voice rose, desperation lacing every word. “You’re acting like I’m a goddamn ghost! I’m right here, trying to fix this!”

“Because I need to protect myself!” you yelled back, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Every time I try to forgive you, you mess it up again! I can’t trust you when you keep hurting me!”

The silence that followed felt like a chasm between you, both of you breathing heavily, emotions spiraling out of control. Bucky’s shoulders sagged, the weight of your words crushing him. He thought of the little trinket you gave him once, a small metal star—a reminder of a bond that felt irreparably broken.

“I fucking hate this,” he admitted, his voice cracking, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I hate that I hurt you. I hate that no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix this. You mean everything to me, and it feels like I’m losing you more and more every damn day.” His gaze flickered to the floor, and for a moment, he was just a man haunted by his past, the soldier who had lost so much.

Your heart shattered at the sight of him, raw vulnerability spilling out. “You don’t get to say that after everything. You’ve made me feel worthless, like my feelings don’t matter. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and expect everything to be okay.”

“I don’t want to fucking hurt you!” he cried, frustration and anguish battling within him. “I never asked for this! I just… sometimes I don’t know how to be better, okay?” He clenched his jaw, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill.

“Then you need to figure it out!” you screamed, your voice trembling with pain. “I can’t keep waiting for you to get it right while I’m left feeling broken!”

As your words hung in the air, the truth of your reality crashed over you both. The love you once shared felt suffocated by the shadows of anger and disappointment. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, hearts beating in sync but desperately out of tune.

Bucky stood there, shattered, eyes glistening with unshed tears, as you turned away, the battle within you raging. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unprocessed emotions, and for the first time, the thought of walking away felt more appealing than the pain of staying. But just as you took a step, a sliver of hope flickered in your chest—a feeling that perhaps this confrontation could lead to a path forward.

“Y/N…” he started, voice thick with heartbreak, but his words got lost in the chasm of hurt between you, leaving only a haunting silence in their wake. Yet somewhere deep within, the possibility of healing lingered, waiting for the courage to break through.

Weeks dragged on in the compound, each day feeling like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The faint hum of machinery surrounded you, a constant reminder of the tension in the air. Despite Bucky’s promises to change, shadows of his past returned, casting a gloom that enveloped you both. Memories of laughter and shared moments felt like distant echoes now, buried under the weight of unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. You tiptoed around him, hyper-aware that every little thing could set off alarms in your mind.

The moment of impact came like a bullet, unexpected and cruel. During a mission briefing, Bucky’s voice cut through the air like glass shattering.

“Why the hell can’t you just focus?” he snapped, eyes ablaze with fury that had nothing to do with you, yet somehow landed squarely on your chest. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and metal, making it hard to breathe. “You’re not some damn rookie! You should know better than this by now!”

“Bucky, I—”

“Just shut the hell up!” he roared, the words echoing off the walls, raw and menacing. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain the storm inside. “You’re making this way harder than it needs to be!”

Each word felt like a blow, carving deeper into your heart. This wasn’t a new dance; it was an exhausting routine, and the suffocating weight of your shared history felt more unbearable than ever. You remembered the moments when he had opened up, how he had let you in, but they felt like faint memories now. “Maybe you should take a good, hard look in the mirror,” you shot back, your voice shaky with a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m not the one with the issue here.”

He glared at you, frustration boiling over, muscles tense, jaw clenched tight. You could see the flicker of his inner turmoil, the fear of losing you clawing at his composure. “You keep pulling this shit! It’s like you can’t see past your own damn feelings! Just focus on the mission for once!”

Your chest tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m not your damn punching bag, Bucky,” you said, voice breaking under the weight of raw emotion. “You can’t keep exploding at me and expect me to take it like it’s nothing. I’m sick of this!”

“Maybe if you actually gave a damn about the mission instead of whining about your feelings, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” His words cut deeper than you thought possible, and you recoiled as if slapped. You remembered the way he used to care, how he used to fight for every person he loved, and it stung even more to see him like this.

“I care, Bucky!” you cried, tears spilling over as you fought to hold it together. “But it’s hard to keep my head in the game when I’m constantly worried about when you’ll blow up at me next! You say you’re trying, but nothing changes! It feels like I don’t even matter to you anymore!”

For a moment, his expression shifted, a flicker of regret flashing across his face, but the damage was done. “You think this is easy for me?” he shouted, voice raw and desperate, filled with unfiltered anguish. “I’m trying to be better, but you keep dragging me back into this shit!” You could see the pain behind his bravado, the memories of his past haunting him, and it broke your heart.

“Don’t act like I’m the fucking problem!” you yelled, heart racing as reality crashed down around you. “I’m not the one who can’t confront his demons! You push me away and then blame me for not being there when you do!”

Pain flickered in Bucky’s eyes, the cracks in his stoic facade deepening. “You’re right,” he admitted, voice shaking, the weight of his confession crushing him. “I don’t know how to deal with this… how to deal with you. I’m scared shitless of losing you, and honestly, I don’t know if I can fix it.” The vulnerability in his voice was a fragile thread, hanging in the air, and you felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

“Then maybe you need to sort your shit out,” you replied, heart breaking as you watched his despair unfold. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out while I’m left feeling shattered.” You recalled the shared moments, the promises made, and the weight of them felt unbearable now.

Silence fell, thick with the unsaid and unresolved. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, love suffocating under the weight of his rage and your hurt. Bucky’s shoulders sagged as he stepped back, the chasm between you widening, feeling more insurmountable than ever.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face, anguish spilling over. “It’s killing me.” The vulnerability hung heavy between you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

His breath hitched, and he looked like he might reach for you, but the distance remained unbridgeable, a stark reminder of everything that felt lost. Yet, beneath it all, a small part of you held onto the hope that one day, you could navigate the darkness together.

The clash felt inevitable, like a storm building for days, ready to break over the fragile space between you and Bucky. The tension in the air was suffocating, each breath heavy with unspoken anger and hurt. You stood in the middle of the training room, fists clenched, trying to hold yourself together. Across from you, Bucky stood rigid, muscles taut, his hands balled into fists. The weights he had been using moments earlier now lay forgotten on the floor, a sharp reminder of the growing chasm between you.

The silence was unbearable. Then, without warning, Bucky's voice cut through the room like a blade. “Can you just—stop fucking around? You think this is a game?” His voice cracked, but his anger was palpable, radiating from him in waves as he hurled the weights down with a force that rattled through the room, the echo reverberating like a punch to the gut.

You flinched at the sound, the weight of his words hitting you just as hard. “Maybe if you’d stop yelling for one second, you’d see I’m trying!” Your voice shook, barely holding steady under the pressure. You were trembling, the knot of frustration and hurt in your chest threatening to unravel completely.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “Damn it, you’re not trying hard enough!” he snapped, his fists tightening at his sides, knuckles white. His voice—usually so steady—was strained now, as though he was fighting to keep control. The anger in his tone felt like a punch, but you could see the tremble in his hands, the way his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

The sting of his words twisted in your chest. You could feel the pressure building in your throat, choking you with the weight of unspoken feelings. “I’m trying, Bucky. But it’s never enough for you, is it?” you said, the words tasting bitter in your mouth, laced with all the exhaustion you’d tried to suppress.

His face contorted in anger, but for a brief second, you saw something deeper flicker in his eyes—something haunted. You recognized that look. It was the same one he wore when he woke up from nightmares, drenched in sweat, guilt seeping from every pore. But it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, swallowed by his fury. “Get your shit together,” he snapped, voice low and intense. “I’m not your babysitter. You really think I can hold your hand through every goddamn thing?” His voice wavered, but he squared his shoulders, hiding the vulnerability underneath. “You want to survive? Toughen the hell up or get out of my way.”

“Then maybe you should just go!” The words burst out before you could stop them, raw and jagged, cutting through the tension. You hated how sharp your voice sounded, like a part of you was shattering with every syllable.

For a split second, his expression faltered—just long enough for you to see the crack in his defenses, the fear creeping in behind the anger. But the moment passed, and his face hardened once more, the distance between you widening.

“Enough is enough, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired of forgiving you just so you can hurt me again.” Each word felt like a physical wound, reopening scars you thought had healed.

Bucky’s hands dropped to his sides, but his fists remained clenched. “You’re being dramatic,” he muttered, turning his gaze away as though refusing to face the weight of your words. “I'm pushing you because you damn well need to be better. I can't afford to lose you.”

There it was. The fear he refused to name. He was terrified of losing you, but he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. So instead, he buried it under anger, under demands that pushed you further away.

“You twist everything, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to be there for you, to understand you—but I can’t keep pretending that this is okay. I can’t be the person you take everything out on.”

His jaw tightened, but his hands trembled at his sides. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice quieter now, almost broken. “I’m trying to protect you. I just… I don’t know how to do this without pushing people away. I’m not good at this shit.”

“And what do you think you’re doing right now?” you asked, your heart aching. “You’re pushing me away, and I’m too tired to hold on.”

The silence that followed was deafening, thick with the weight of unsaid things. Bucky’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The echo of the weights hitting the ground earlier still rang in your ears, a haunting reminder of how quickly things had spiraled.

You took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the room settle into your bones, as if the air itself was colder now, heavier. “I feel invisible, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of your confession. “Like I’m just a shadow, someone to absorb your anger when things get too hard. I can’t live like this anymore.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but couldn’t. His lips parted, but no words came. His shoulders slumped slightly, a tiny surrender in the face of your pain.

He opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and desperate now. “Y/N, don’t do this,” His voice cracked, but his body was still tense, like he was holding something back—something he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit. “You don’t need to make this harder than it already is.”

“I don’t want to walk away, Bucky. But I have to, for my own sanity,” you said, stepping back as if putting physical distance between you would somehow make it easier.

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between you, unsure. “Damn it,” he rasped. “I’m trying, okay? I need you to believe me.”

“It’s too late for that,” you whispered, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so raw. His hand dropped, and the space between you felt like a canyon now, too wide to cross.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his gaze dropping to the floor as though he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. He clenched his fists again, nails biting into his palms. The weight of his guilt was suffocating, and you could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his eyes dimmed with the realization that he had pushed you too far.

The room felt too quiet, the air thick with the aftermath of your words. You could feel the memory of every touch, every smile, every moment of laughter between you two slipping away like sand through your fingers. There was a photo—one he had kept tucked away in his jacket—of the two of you on a day when everything had felt perfect. He had carried it with him, a reminder of what he was trying to protect. But now, it felt like just another symbol of something irreparable.

“I loved you,” you whispered, stepping back one final time, tears blurring your vision as you turned toward the door. “But I deserve better.”

“Y/N!” His voice broke, desperate, as he took a step toward you, hand outstretched. His body was trembling now, fear etched into every line of his face. “Don’t fucking walk away from me! I can change. I swear, I can be better for you!”

You hesitated, your back to him, feeling the weight of his plea. For a moment, you almost turned back. Almost. But the words he had said still hung heavy in the air between you. And you knew—deep down—that you couldn’t survive this cycle anymore.

As you walked away, the echo of his voice followed you, the pain lacing each syllable a reminder of what could have been. But you didn’t stop. The silence after you left was deafening, and it swallowed Bucky whole, leaving him alone with his regrets, the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him like a physical force.

He watched the door close behind you, his heart sinking with the realization that he had lost you. And for the first time, he didn’t know how to fix it.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 || 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭

— pairing: logan howlett x plus size mutant!reader

— summary: who knew the key to scaring away the big bad wolverine was a kiss?

— warnings: angst that i have no idea how to describe, heartbreak :/, miscommunication that is quickly rectified, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, horribly described plant ability (forgive me).

— wc: 664

⋆ a/n: OH ME OH MY!!! i haven't written for a new character in so long! it's so refreshing!! forgive me if logan is a bit ooc and a lot of things probably don't make sense, i'm still in the process of watching the movies so i tried to keep things as vague as possibly aside from the spoilers i've been given! i have fallen so deeply in love with this man so he will definitely be making an apperance on this acc more! ty for your request! @hicanivent

masterlist | AO3

You never thought in all your years of living, you would be the one thing that managed to scare away Logan, and all it took was a kiss.

Maybe it was your fault or possibly the tension that had surrounded the two of you since you had joined the mutant school as another professor.

Either way, what was done is done, and you couldn’t sleep.

You stared up at your roof which was decorated with all sorts of plant vines. Though you were a mutant as well, your ability was minor. You were able to manipulate plants; you could make them move, grow, or wilt. It was nothing too impressive, but the children enjoyed your gardening class.

Gardening wasn’t the only thing you taught, there was also the history of different herbs and species of plants and how they were used throughout time. 

That’s where your dilemma of insomnia lies. With an aching heart and an active brain, essays sat delicately on your desk in your classroom, and you were contemplating on whether or not you should just grade them. The kids weren’t expecting them back anytime soon, but what else were you to do?

A part of you is afraid that maybe you’ll run into Logan stalking through the halls like he does sometimes when his brain gets too loud. It was like he always had something to run from, and somehow he’d always find himself knocking on your door at all hours of the night. Sometimes he wouldn’t even talk, just sit there and find comfort in your presence.

You weren’t ashamed to say that you’re worried about him, but Logan was probably the most stubborn man you had ever met, so if he didn’t want to do something, you couldn’t force him. Sometimes you wish you could.

You threw your blankets off of your body, sitting on the edge of the bed and held your head in your hands. You felt the exhaustion seeping into your bones and you let out a prolonged sigh.

A hesitant knock on your door pulled you out of your tired stupor, your head shooting up in alarm.

You honestly thought it was one of the kids, definitely not a very shaken up looking Logan.

A very bitter part of you wanted to turn him away, but a very extremely soft part of you – the part that was in love with him – led you to open up the door wider with a small encouraging smile on your face.

He looked unsure for a moment before breaking through the threshold. 

“I’m sorry.”  Was the first thing he had said before you even had a chance to turn around after shutting the door.

He was standing in the middle of your room, the midnight glow shining through your window casted an enchanting shadow against the naked skin of his arms that was exposed by his classic plain white undershirt. 

You don’t know how you managed to speak through the dryness of your throat.

“It’s okay.” You spoke quietly, looking up at him through tired eyes. “No it’s not.” He denied. You approached him slowly before you cupped his cheek. “But Logan, it is.”

Your words had a plethora of meanings behind them, that you forgive him, that you were waiting until he was ready. 

You stare at each other for a moment, his large battle worn hands rest on the plumpness of your hips, and the supernatural warmth of his body sends a pleasant shiver up your spine.

“If I kiss you, are you going to run away again?” You joke, breaking the intense atmosphere. 

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips ever so slightly. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around this time.”

Logan doesn’t give you time to retort because he had already found himself kissing you, the scruff of his mutton chops scratching at your cheeks ever so slightly. It tickled and you giggled, smiling into his mouth.

You felt him smile too.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @khxna @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.9

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: prepare urself. next chapter may or may not be crazy. once again (the usual) spam of thank yous. all of your kind words both in replies and reblogs makes my heart sing. to those who said they want to be part of the taglist-- i reopened it! i might have missed those who recently asked to be on it so pls reply to this chapter so i can get you :( so sorry for my lack of meticulousness.

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Saturday

You had to call out the following Thursday and Friday. 

The cold you manifested was wreaking havoc on your body, the constant shivering now straining your muscles and bones. You couldn’t even find comfort in your bed, as you’d sneeze and cough, or dash to the bathroom during the waves of nausea. You were grateful to not have gotten frostbite, but damn this cold bites! 

It was nice to have some space away from work, and Nanami. You deduced that this cold was inevitable, as the stress that loomed over since your confession (and second rejection). But this wasn’t fun either, as you could barely make yourself a cup of coffee while also having to answer Haibara every few minutes, who wanted to make sure you were doing well. It was bittersweet to say the least. 

As you cuddle your heating pad meant for your tummy, you begin to scroll carelessly on your phone. Although it was your day off, and you were sick, you often liked to check your work emails. You like to be extra prepared for Monday, as those were the days when you have bigger workloads to tackle. As you scrolled, you stumbled upon an email directly from Takada shacho. Before you could open it however, there was a gentle knocking at your door. 

“Coming…” you say weakly, quickly finding a mask on your bedside table. Comforting the straps around your ears, you make a slow walk towards your door. You get on your tiptoes to look through the peephole, only to back away in shock and slight embarrassment. “N-Nanami kacho? What are you… doing here?” You proceed to cough. 

“I came to check on you,” Nanami hums from behind the door. “I know you’ve been sick due to my shortcomings. I wanted to see how you were faring.” 

“A-ah, I see,” you stammer nervously. You were hoping not to see him until Monday, but luck still remains anywhere but your side. “You could have just called me as well…” 

“I felt… that it would be best to come in person,” Nanami begins shyly. The sound of plastic shuffling joins. “I, um, also brought some things to treat you. If it’s okay with you, may I please come in?” 

You go a bit pale, “um… I don’t really want to get you sick. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come in and–” 

“I don’t care. I’d like to see you, and make sure you are well.” Nanami interrupts you with a stern tone. His words sounded non-negotiable, and you didn’t want to [fuck around and] find out if you refused his entry. Reluctantly, you unlocked your door and slowly opened it, revealing the tall man before you. 

His hair was once again messy, lazily pulled back with his fingers. He was covered in snow,  of course, but had gloves on to protect himself from potential frostbite. You look down at his two large bags he got from 7-Eleven. You move out of his way and let him place the bags down. He closes the door behind him, and begins to untie his scarf from around his neck. As he did, you offered your hands out to take it from him. 

“Let me,” you offer in a hoarse voice. 

Nanami looks down at you, “you’re sick. Thank you, but I can hang it myself. Please feel free to go back to bed.” 

“A-ah, but you’re my guest,” you insisted through weak coughs. “My mom would reprimand me if she saw the way I was hosting you right now. I haven’t even boiled tea…” 

Nanami, now just in a sweatshirt and his joggers, quickly puts on his slippers and offers his hand to you. You look up at him confused. “Come and sit down,” he coos, taking your hand and guiding you towards your living room. He gently allows you to take a seat on the couch, which is quite the relief considering you were exasperating just from answering the door. 

Through small coughs, you watch as Nanami brings his bags to the kitchen, and begins to unpack them. He silently takes out a few vegetables and cartons of broth. A pool of pill bottles also leave the bag, along with other cold suppressants. “Can I,” you start hesitantly, your index fingers looping around one another, “can I offer you a cup of coffee?” 

“No,” Nanami shot you down quickly, “I’d rather you rest than concern yourself with me. Though, the offer in your condition is very touching.” 

Your cold now felt like a fever, as your cheeks went completely hot. You looked crazy, your hair and makeup undone. Your pajamas were ornate with little ducks, and you don’t even have tea prepared. And here was this effortless, handsome man in your house, with a pot in his hands and his eyes navigating your tiny kitchen. It was an honor to see him outside of his work clothes, as it still made your heart run. 

“Are there any vegetables you don’t like?” Nanami asks gently. 

You sit up promptly, staring distantly towards the pot that was now full of water and preparing to boil. “I’m not a big fan of daikon in my soup,” you reply awkwardly. “A bit too strong for me.” 

Nanami looks over at you and gives you a small smile, “I would have never expected that you didn’t like daikon, Y/N.” 

“In soup, I’m not a fan,” you quickly mend the confusion, “soups are meant to be calming, not crazy.” 

“Daikon makes soup crazy?” Nanami continues, amused by your detest. 

“It’s a bit much,” You exclaim weakly. “Just me personally, I can’t deal with all that sass.” 

“Sass?” Nanami finally lets out a chuckle, “what a way to describe a vegetable you don’t like.” As he cleans the vegetables he provided, he couldn’t help but continue to smile. “So this is what you’re like outside of work,” he whispers to himself. But your ears catch his words quickly. 

You feel your cheeks burn from shyness. But as you stared at the back of Nanami’s head, you remembered all the tears you’ve shed these last 2 weeks. Your heart still hurts, even while sharing a warm conversation like this. He was still the man who you confessed to, and broke your heart twice. You look distant towards your window, seeing the snow slowly fall over the city. 

“You don’t have to cook for me, Nanami kacho,” you say quietly, “you have done enough, so thank you. I can do the rest from here.” 

Nanami purposely ignores you as he begins to chop a carrot. “What do I have to do in order to stop you from calling me kacho?” Your neck snaps back to look at him, noticing Nanami’s seriousness from his side profile. 

You drop your hands to grip the end of the couch, squeezing it to calm you down. “You’ve made it very clear what kind of relationship we have. It’s inappropriate otherwise, so from your perspective, I should proceed with calling you kacho.”

“Y/N, please.” 

“Please what?” A bit of attitude left the tip of your tongue. You jump in fear. Just because you were hurt doesn’t change the fact that Nanami is still your boss. The man that signs off your hours. ”Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to use that kind of tone. I just… think it’s best that we revert back to honorifics.” 

“I disagree,” Nanami hums from the kitchen. He begins to look through your spice pantry (which you were surprised he knew where to find it) and pulls out your pepper. “How spicy would you like your soup?” 

“You told me that you are my boss, and I am your assistant,” you repeated his words from the night before. “You want comradery but don’t see me as anything beyond your colleague.” You tighten your grip on your couch. “And...not so spicy, for the soup.” 

You were sick. Having to bring this conversation up once more was making you even sicker. 

“Y/N, I misspoke,” Nanami says firmly, closing the pot with a lid to allow the soup to simmer. He grabs a glass from your cupboard and goes over to pour water from the pitcher. Pouring the water generously, he makes his way over to you with a few of the pills he purchased. “Here, I have a few supplements you can take now. The painkillers will be for after you eat.” 

“I know how to take care of myself,” you murmur. Nanami takes a seat next to you, pouring the pills into one hand while carefully handing you the water in the other. Lowering your mask, you swallow the pills like morsels, and follow it with sips of water. “Feel free to go after this. Thank you for setting up the soup, I can take it from here.”

Nanami eyes your face, making you blush even more. You were thankful that you were sick, as the hue on your cheeks can be explained by your current health. Putting the cup down, you quickly busy yourself once more by taking the decorative blanket on the couch and covering yourself with it. As you did, a finger appears before your face. You halt, watching as Nanami begins to drag some sort of salve on your lips. His middle finger gently drags the petroleum-like substance against your bottom lip, before swiping the rest against your top lip. 

You could explode right then and there. Your nausea wave was a bit more intense, but more so from the intensity of Nanami’s gaze, and his touch against your chapped lips. Your heart was beating hard, and you couldn’t move. Like yesterday, you were frozen. His touch, despite his muscular stature, was gentle, soft. It felt like butter. 

“S-sorry,” Nanami immediately pulled his hand away. He quickly looks away from you, hints of pink at the edge of his cheekbones. “I overstepped. I’m very, very sorry Y/N.” 

“It’s fine,” you quickly spew, “just… wash your hands before you touch anything else or yourself. I would hate for you to get sick because of me.” 

“A-ah, right,” he concurs, quickly jogging to the kitchen to wash his hands. Drying his hands with a towel, he once again joins you on the couch. “I will admit, I didn’t just come here to care for you. I wanted us to… discuss more about our conversation the other night.” 

Here he goes. Opening a wound that is long but healed. “What else is there to talk about?” You say, coughing a bit to clear your throat. You felt light headed from how congested you are, especially since talking so much. And now, Nanami was forcing you to engage in a conversation that led to your feelings being hurt more. “We both expressed our feelings to one another, and came to the conclusion that our relationship should strictly stay as a coworker dynamic.” 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Nanami begins quietly. His eyes keep at your coffee table, with fingers weaving together slowly. He looks pensive, like he’s looking for the right words to say. But even within those thoughts, he was uneasy. “Hold on.” In a moment, he pulls off his sweatshirt, revealing himself in a black, skin tight shirt. This would be the first time you truly saw his physique, seeing as the shirt hugs into the dents and divots of his pecs and abs. The short sleeves give temptation to his muscular arms. His torso was enough to make any woman submissive. 

You look away, but still hold your ground, “if that is the case, then I’d like to apologize again for my feelings towards you. I’m working on letting them go so they no longer pose as a nuisance or discomfort for you. And if need be, I understand if you’d rather distant our work relationship, or transfer me back to Sales.” 

This is when Nanami faces you again, “Y/N, look at me.” 

His tone wasn’t aggressive nor strict, but you felt submissive to his request. You slowly turn, your eyes finding their way to his own. Hazel eyes bore into yours, and you noticed his bottom lip snug between his teeth. 

“That night when you confessed to me, I didn’t quite understand what it all meant for me,” Nanami begins quietly. He tightens his hold on his hands. “I’ve never really known what to do when people confess to me. But I was so used to not reciprocating those feelings that rejecting them was as easy as breathing.”

“You’re a little too good at it,” you let out, your heart jolting from the memory of the rejection. 

“And for that I apologize,” Nanami quickly spews, “not only for hurting your feelings, but for lying to you.” 

“Lying to me?” You felt your forehead going hot. “About what?” 

“About my feelings towards you,” Nanami’s tone hinted at a dash of embarrassment, “Admittedly, not even I knew I was lying to you until I finally gave it some thought.” 

You could only stare at him, trying to find some sense in his face. But as you stared at him, you noticed a break of conviction in his hazel eyes. His usual professional demeanor was absent, leaving you with a Nanami you’ve never met before. His confidence wavers, and before you was a red-faced, shy man. 

“Kento,” you begin, causing him to jump from his first name leaving your tongue. “I’d feel worse if you’re feigning liking me for the sake of making up with me. I told you, it is my fault for liking you.” 

“If you’re taking fault for that,” Nanami begins, his eyes diverting away from you, “then it is also your fault for making me like you back.” 

Huh? You felt hot, cold, and dizzy. His words were nauseating, and you were confident you were green in the face. Your hands and arms shake with nerves, goosebumps ornate all over your body. Before you could even utter another word, you feel yourself going faint. 

“Y/N?” Your name sounded distant. Before you knew it, your eyes flutter shut, pitch black surrounding you. 

Taglist:

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ฿Ⱡ₳₦₭ ₴₱₳₵Ɇ ♡

♡ Pairings: frat boy!jaehyun x chubby!fem!reader, frat boy!johnny x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: college au/angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: Jaehyun has made it a habit of playing with your heart. One day he loves you, the next he hates you, with nothing in between. Growing tired of his games, you find your attention drifting somewhere else. Toward his roommate and frat brother Johnny to be exact.

[Part Two Here 🖤]

♡ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: fuckboy Jaehyun in his full villain era (for now), voyeurism, two couples having sex in the same room (not an orgy), technically unprotected sex by way of protection not being explicitly mentioned, a lil spanking, partying, kissing, mentions of drinking, casual/meaningless sex, sexual fantasies, everyone's a lil morally gray, heartbreak & that's all bbys.

♡ A/N: I had a bloodlust for something angsty and ya know this did a pretty good job at satisfying it. It also satisfied by craving for something sweet so I'll keep my fingers crossed it does both for y'all too. 🖤

It was exciting at first. Weekends at the frat house partying with Jaehyun. No rules. No limitations. Everything a girl could want just waiting to be given to her if she asked. And the sex? The sex was incredible. Jaehyun could be a real asshole sometimes but he always knew how to make you come so hard your ears were ringing. 

You knew from the start that it’d be delusional to think you were anything more to him than a pretty face and a dependable fuck. Jaehyun’s killer bone structure and gorgeous features make him what one might imagine a fairytale prince to be. All the girls on campus dream of being with him and he knows it. He loves it.

That man has an ego bigger than his cock which is unfortunately rather large. There’s so much of himself floating around in his head that there’s just no room for anyone else. Still he has his endearing moments, ones that make a girl feel special, and that’s what keeps you coming back when you begin to think better of tolerating his bullshit.

That’s why you’re here tonight, knees digging into his mattress, cheek pressed to his pillow, as he fucks you from behind. You feel it, the force of his hips snapping against your ass, his cock pulsing deep in your core. But it feels like nothing. It’s like getting a tooth pulled after the dentist has numbed you up real good. The force of the movement is there but the feeling’s gone.

A few feet away another bed creaks as a girl you’ve only met once or twice rides Jaehyun’s frat brother Johnny like one of those mechanical bulls. This isn’t abnormal. During these parties sex happens any time, anywhere, and that almost always includes being in the same room together. But you can’t help feeling like a pervert for stealing a few glances of the adjacent couple.

Jaehyun never formally introduced you to Johnny. Come to think of it, he's never formally introduced you to anyone. It was Johnny who introduced himself one night when you’d had a few too many drinks for your own good and ended up hunched over the toilet with Jaehyun nowhere to be found. 

Johnny sat with you for hours making sure you were hydrated and feeding you snacks until he was sure you were okay. You can’t for the life of you remember what was said. You can only recall that you felt comfortable and safe with him. It was enough to make you develop the tiniest crush that’s only been made worse by how sweet he’s been to you since.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, interrupting your train of thought. Almost simultaneously Johnny begins to caress the other girl’s hips. There’s so much tenderness in the way he touches her and you envy it. You wish Jaehyun could give you even a fraction of that. Just once. Pulling the girl in for a kiss, Johnny wraps his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. With her head nestled in the side of his neck, he cradles her gently as he lifts into her at a slow, rhythmic pace. 

You imagine that’s you, not being hammered into but actually feeling something, and magically the friction of Jaehyun’s cock rubbing your walls feels good. In fact, far better than it ever has before. You let out a moan, a whisper, “Aah, oh god.” Jaehyun takes notice of it, loving the way you clench too much not to hit that sweet spot again and again. He’s so distracted by the delicious jiggling of your body, his vision curtained by messy dark brown hair, that he can’t see that he isn’t the only one captivated by you.

But you notice. Johnny’s staring back at you now, his eyes glued to yours as he takes in all those pretty faces you make. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you either. He and Jaehyun were roommates long before you came into the picture. Johnny’s seen more than a few girls naked in Jaehyun’s bed but you’re the only one he’s cared to sneak a peek at. The crush you have on him is so mutual. How you never picked up on it he doesn’t know but it’s oh so obvious now.

The longing behind Johnny’s eyes is immense, luring you deeper into his gaze until he’s all you see. Setting your bodies on autopilot with your respective partners, you begin to quietly explore each other. Your minds indulge in every dirty thought you’ve had about each other. Thoughts you’d suppressed out of fear that you were doing something wrong. 

You find yourself getting wetter than you’ve been all night, walls dripping twice as much as they hug Jaehyun’s cock. “Damn, you feel so good, baby” Jaehyun praises, planting kisses down the middle of your back. He shifts to a position he knows will have you trembling and you let out the sexiest moan. So sexy it makes Johnny’s cock twitch inside of the other girl, heat washing over both of your bodies. 

“You’re so fucking cute” Johnny whispers in a way that seems to be for the girl in his arms but is meant for you and only you. His face lights up like the 4th of July at every broken moan or arch of your back. You can tell how badly he wishes the pussy warming his cock right now were yours and you get the filthiest rush out of that.

Before you know it the pressure inside you has reached its peak and your legs are shaking, knees threatening to give out from under you. A faint smile creeps across Johnny’s face and he mouths to you, “Come.” And you do, as if on command. Burying your face in the pillow, you bite down on the fluffy cotton and let it fill your cheeks. It’s a gag of sorts, a desperately needed one incase you should cry out the wrong name on accident.

You know in your heart that even by frat boy standards you’ve crossed a line. You’ve stumbled into territory there’s no coming back from. But when it feels this good it’s difficult to want to turn back anyway. 

“You’re overreacting. It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” 

You know this to be true, Jaehyun isn’t your boyfriend, but it hurts all the same to wake up to him texting another girl. Your heart sank when you rolled over this morning, still in his arms, to find him making plans to meet up with her tonight.

It was so blatant, he didn’t even attempt to hide what he was doing, and maybe that’s what hurts most of all. You thought he cared enough about you to at least pretend he wasn’t playing the absolute fuck out of you. It’s clear now that you thought wrong. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” you shout, gathering your things from the floor, the sheet from his bed still draped around your naked body. 

A fully dressed Jaehyun casually searches the dresser for his keys, the smile on his face so cocky you want to slap it off. “Right, I’m going to the gym. You know how to see yourself out right?” 

Picking up one of your heels, you channel all your strength into throwing it at his head. “I never wanna see you again!” 

Jaehyun opens the bedroom door in time to take cover behind it, the heel of your shoe leaving a dent where it would’ve hit him. “Ooh, feisty” he teases, cracking the door to throw you a wink, “Save some of that for next time, hmm?”

There’s so much you want to say but none of it will change anything. He walks away from you like it’s nothing and that’s precisely what you feel like. Nothing. Unable to hold back anymore, you burst into tears where you stand, gathering up some of the sheet to sob quietly into. You can’t recall the last time you cried like this. A chest tightening, nose dripping, lip quivering type of cry that makes you want to double over in pain. 

“Hey, come here” a voice whispers, the rasp of sleep still hanging over it.

You feel a tug on the back of the sheet and turn to see Johnny sitting up in bed, one hand rubbing his barely open eyes while the other clings to the sheet around you.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up” you apologize, too embarrassed to make eye contact, “I’ll just get my things and—”

“No, come here” he insists, pulling you closer to his bed, “Come lay with me.”

Something in you says to resist it—you shouldn’t be crawling into bed with Jaehyun’s roommate—but Johnny’s already taking you by the hand, guiding you down into the empty spot beside him. No words are spoken as he pulls the soft blanket over the two of you, tucking it at your side to keep you warm.

His head hits the pillow, heavy lids closing, as he pulls you into his chest. There’s tension at first, on your part only. A hesitance to allow yourself to fully relax into the gentle embrace you’ve been desperately pining for. But the longer he holds you, his palm massaging your lower back in soothing figure eights, the more you soften.

“You don’t deserve this, you know?” he finally says when your tears have subsided and your breathing has evened out enough for you to speak. There’s exhaustion in those words as he says them, giving the impression that this is something he’s wanted to ask you for a long time. 

“Is this gonna be a lecture?” you sniffle, nervously patting the tears from the dips between his muscles, “Because I really don’t need a lecture right now.” 

Johnny laughs, letting out a yawn, “Nah, it’s too early for a lecture. My brain’s not heated up yet.” 

“Not heated up yet? What does that even mean?” you giggle, leaning to look up at him, your nose scrunched in confusion. Johnny opens his eyes, staring back at you with those starry brown orbs, and you’re transported back to the way you felt last night. If you thought his gaze made you want to melt from afar, it’s reducing you to volcanic ash at this distance. 

“Well, it’s like, when you first wake up your brain’s cold. Your thoughts are all jumbled so you’ve gotta wait a little, let it heat up” Johnny explains, the tips of his sable hair kissing your face.  

“You’re, uh…” you stutter, searching for the perfect word, “Really…interesting? Yeah, you’re interesting, Johnny Suh.” 

The most genuine smile takes over that handsome face as he lets out a joyful squeak, sincerely flattered by your comment. “Yeah? Well, so are you. You’re really interesting and cool and cute. I did mean that last night. You are cute.”

You tuck your head, trying to hide a smile of your own, but Johnny caresses your cheek, bringing you right back where he wants you. “Why do you let him treat you like that?” he asks without the slightest bit of judgment. Your smile fades as you contemplate a question you aren’t even sure you know the answer to. You file through 1001 possibilities before coming to the raw, painful truth. 

“I was trying to prove something, I guess” you confess, feeling an odd sense of relief at admitting this to him and yourself. “I thought if I could obtain the unattainable it’d be proof that I was special.”

Johnny scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Jaehyun? Unattainable? I could fuck him if I complemented him enough.” 

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better” you huff, beginning to regret that moment of vulnerability. 

“No, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that he isn’t one of those people that can appreciate when they have something special.” 

You shrug in defeat, letting your fears tumble freely from your lips, “Yeah, I don’t know if any guy can at this point.”

“So you think we’re all the same?” he asks, tilting your head to let your lips brush his. His lips are like static, making the little hairs on your arm stand on end. Your heart’s running a marathon and the butterflies in your stomach are throwing fits. This can’t be happening. Only it is.

You swallow hard, inhaling the scent of the fresh morning air meddled with his cologne. “Well, I…I mean no one’s really shown me any different.” 

Johnny presses his lips to yours, lingering there for a moment to savor the warmth of your kiss. “Can you give it some time?” he whispers, fingers charting a course across the curve of your hip to take your hand into his. 

“It or you, Johnny?” you ask, silently begging him not to say a thing if it’s not something he means.

“Hmm,” he hums, bringing your hand up to gently kiss your inner wrist, your palm, your fingertips, “Me.” 

[chilschuck]

hi there!!! I love your blog!!! I know you’re mainly a Chilchuck girlie, but I saw that you occasionally do Laios headcanons/drabbles, and I’m a massive Laios simp. if you have the time and inclination, would you maybe write about Laios realizing he’s falling for a reader who is also autistic like he is? and they’re both so in love with each other, but they don’t realize it bc they’re both idiots, so the party has to set them up lmao

OBLIVIOUS (IN MY LOVE FOR YOU).

꒰ warnings: ꒱ mutual pining, hopelessly in love silly guys, gn!reader. sfw as always!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.3k

✦ i hope this turned out how you wanted it!!! i felt bad that i’ve been doing so much chil and nothing for the others, so i was happy that you sent this request!! i’m not sure how to feel about this, but i’m happy to get something out for you!!! <333 honestly i’m worried this turned out badly, but alas, i feel that way about everything asdfdhgjhk. enjoy lovely!!!!

It was more than obvious to anyone but the two of you, much to the party’s displeasure. The mutual pining between you had been a constant back and forth for what felt like ages, and it was almost humorous how in denial it seemed you were.

Laios always spent time chatting with you before bed, his soft voice carrying so much warmth. You always noted how fuzzy your head felt whenever he’d talk about something he was especially interested in. It was almost heartbreaking to part with him to finally rest, longing to continue the conversation for as long as you could.

Little did the two of you know that the rest of the party had their eyes on you, tired sighs leaving each of them. This was every night now, and the fact neither of you were making an effort to come to terms and admit what you were feeling was beginning to become tiresome.

Chilchuck huffed, head in the palm of his hand. “I can’t believe that this is still going on. I’m tired of it.”

Marcille tutted, but the frustration at both of your ignorances was seeping through. “There’s got to be something we can do. They’re obviously so in love with each other...”

And right she was, with how absolutely enamored Laios had become. He’d never felt this way about anyone, the feeling seeping into his bones slowly but surely. With every smile you gave him, words of encouragement, or even reassuring touches, you made yourself at home in his mind and heart. Laios was content with just the whispered conversations and adventures together, not quite piecing together the entire situation just yet.

Marcille was not so sure that was something to be content with. Izutsumi was also getting fed up with the constant beating around the bush, and Chilchuck was sick and tired of watching this ordeal occur. The three of them had decided that enough was enough, and through gossip-like whispers, they decided on a course of action.

“I’ll try and talk to Laios,” Chilchuck settled, although he wasn’t entirely happy with the idea of helping an inner party relationship unfold. It was even harder to watch the two of you continuously pine after each other blindly, so he chose what he believed was the lesser of two evils. “You two convince you-know-who to get some one on one time with him somehow.”

Marcille hummed, finger tapping her chin. “Maybe we could get Senshi to cook something up just for the two of them, get them on a date of some sort.”

Izutsumi flicked her tail in annoyance at this entire scenario, before giving her own opinion. “Let’s just get them stuck in a trap or something.” At that, the elf across from her shook her head adamantly.

“Although that might work another time, I think setting them up would work best. We’ll all conveniently go off somewhere and leave the two of them to talk it out. Somehow…”

Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to get the two of you alone together. Laios would explain something about a monster your party had encountered earlier, delighted at your interest in anything he had to say. Before he knew it, the rest of the party had excused themselves after dinner, leaving just you and him with a cooked meal and unsaid words hanging in the air.

Even earlier, Chilchuck had decided to try and drill it into Laios’ skull that perhaps coming to terms and admitting what he was feeling wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Grasping for straws, Laios tried to create excuses that what he felt for you was just that of a close friend. There was no way he was falling in love, right? Yet, the look Chilchuck had given him shut him up quickly.

“You think friends just look at each other with that lovesick face you’re always making? And it’s not exactly hard to see just how much you care about them. It’s actually pretty obvious.” The half-foot grit out, floored that Laios still hadn’t figured out just how deeply he had fallen.

Marcille and Izutsumi had a similar problem with you, finding that you were convinced what you felt was just that of a deep friendship, of course you weren’t actually absolutely smitten with the man. Giving each other a knowing look, Marcille continued her prodding.

“I think there’s more to this,” the way she said your name so softly held your attention. “You need to talk with him. Maybe talk through just what you’re feeling.”

So now, as you took another bite of your dinner, you tried to figure out just what you were feeling. Laios was doing the same, and the silence, which was never a problem before, now hung with tension.

Both of you tried to speak, before signaling the other to continue, before giving a light laugh at the awkwardness. It wasn’t that just being in each other’s company was the problem, but more so that there was so much left unsaid.

Laios ran his hand through his hair, giving you that tender smile you had come to love so much. “You first.”

Another laugh left you, before your current train of thought followed through your words. “So I was wondering… Have you ever been in love before, Laios?”

That caught him off guard, swallowing hard before thinking of the right thing to say. “Well… I, uh…” A beat of silence followed as you let him find his words. “I wasn’t sure before today. What about you?”

Trying not to get your hopes up, or have the flame within you extinguished so easily, you smiled. “Same here, actually. I think…” You trailed off, just staring at his rosy cheeks and intent gaze making your heartbeat a little faster. Setting your plate to the side, you bit your tongue for a moment. Talk through what you’re feeling… You can do that.

“I guess I didn’t really realize, but… Lately, I’ve been really eager to be around you.” Your voice tried to fight back the tremors rising within you. Before you could continue, Laios grabbed your hand and gave you that intent expression again.

“Me too! I mean, I always really enjoy our talks. I look forward to them a lot.” He spoke a tad out of breath, trying to reign in how he was feeling. Another beat of silence, followed by the clearing of his throat.

“I think I’m in love with you.” You both muttered at the same time, before the feeling of both shock and excitement coursed through you. There was… no possible way, right? But with that doting smile and lovesick gaze he was sending your way, you began to think he did feel the same.

“Thank the gods,” you whispered, a huff of relief leaving your lips. “I had to have Marcille and Izutsumi make me realize.”

Laios laughed, cheeks flushed with delight. “Yeah, Chilchuck definitely gave me a talking to. I think Senshi tried to help me realize, too. It was definitely interesting.”

Both of you shared light giggles before Laios gently pulled you into an embrace. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, nuzzling into his neck.

“Sorry it took me so long.” He whispered, inhaling deeply, the air leaving him in a content sigh. Your eyes fluttered shut, shaking your head slightly in reply. “No need. That’d mean I’d need to apologize too.”

You pressed sweet kisses to his cheek, to his nose, to his forehead. Laios beamed, intertwining your fingers as he spoke from the heart just what he had been trying to come to terms with. You did your best to do so, too.

Chilchuck, Marcille, Senshi, and Izutsumi all let out sounds of relief at watching the two of you around the corner. Getting both of you to finally realize the extent of your feelings was difficult, but oh so worth it in the end.

“Finally,” Chilchuck grumbled, before scratching the back of his neck. “That only took, what? Forever?”

Senshi grunted, trying to recall just how long it had been. Izutsumi even watched as Marcille rocked back and forth on her feet, a certain sparkle in her eye.

She’d have to get the two of you to be open more often.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune!! <33

[yuutaok]

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Spring Leaves, But I Never Will

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

In the eerie mountain forest, you seek to find what is missing. Lost and disoriented, you encounter a mysterious boy with eyes like the dead, his presence is captivating. With a gentle hand, he beckons you, and you follow.

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Word Count: ~4.4K

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), P in V, AFAB! Reader, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampies, posessiveness, supernatural/paranormal stuff happens, open-ended ending, Reader is lost in a forest and meets Yuuta, Yuuta is a freak

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Author's note: Hiii I am back with a vengeance. Belated birthday fic for Yuuta ♡ Life exploded me so I never got the chance to finish until now. Also, I would like to thank Sen (@/ banjjakz) for inspiring some of the horror aspects of this <3 They have such a lovely way of writing such mysterious horror that I deeply wanted to try my hand at, so please go read their Yuuta fics bc they are sooooo delicious ok I'll stop swooning now byeeeeee

Lost amidst the dense, foreboding forests of the mountains, you trudged forward, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the winding trail. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of recent events, the memory of your painful breakup still fresh in your mind. It had only been a couple of days, of course your heart would still hurt and your hands would still shake. And still, the need to escape, to clear your head and find solace amidst the solitude of nature, had driven you to embark on this day-hike alone.

The townsfolk often whispered about this mountain as a haunt for the heartbroken.

And so, here you were.

The hike was pleasant. You took the time to leisurely look at every interesting formed rock or beautiful sprouting flower that you had stumbled upon. Spring had just begun and it felt nice to be in the calm serenity of nature. You took care to not stray too far from the beaten path but still found your way crunching through the trees to look at specimens that caught your eye. It was a great way to get your mind off of things, to forget about life for just a moment.

But now, as the sky darkened and the woods grew eerily silent around you, regret gnawed at the edges of your resolve. Perhaps venturing into the wilderness alone had been a mistake, a reckless act born of heartache. Panic tightened its grip on your chest as you realized that dusk was fast approaching, and you had yet to find your way back to civilization.

With each step you took through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the sense of urgency weighed heavy on your shoulders. Nervously, you glanced at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously through the trees. Hope flickered like a dying flame within you, faltering as the daylight waned faster than anticipated.

Your mind wandered to the rumors that had long circulated about the mountain, tales of heartbroken souls seeking solace among the towering trees, only to vanish without a trace.

It was said that the forest held secrets whispered confessions etched into the bark of the old oak trees, and love letters left behind by those who had come seeking solace from their pain. But these were not ordinary declarations of affection; they were haunting, twisted reflections of despair, each word filled with grief, obsession, and heartbreak. You have heard people say that love is the worst curse of all.

Some claimed to have heard mournful voices echoing through the woods, the ghostly whispers of lovers calling out into the darkness, their cries fading into gusts of wind and rustling leaves. Others spoke of strange symbols carved into the earth, cryptic messages left behind by those who had succumbed to the forest's embrace.

You still had decided to come, despite the unsubstantiated rumors that were whispered by the old grannies in the surrounding town. You’d be damned if you suffocated under the weight of your heartache. But as you delved deeper and deeper into the forest, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched— honestly, maybe the old ladies knew something you didn’t.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. Desperate, you called out into the silent woods, your voice echoing into the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded you, “Hello…? Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me?”

But the only response was the feeling of eyes on the back of your head and the haunting whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of desolation that chilled you to the bone.

With each passing moment, the forest seemed to close in around you, its shadows stretching like grasping fingers eager to ensnare their prey. You were never quite fond of the dark.

Heart pounding, you broke into a run, stumbling through the underbrush in a frantic search for anything familiar. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs beneath your feet sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you raced against the encroaching darkness.

And then, just as panic threatened to consume you whole, you burst through a thicket of bushes, only to collide with an unexpected figure standing in your path. The air left your lungs as you fell flat on your ass.

You looked up at what, or who, you had just crashed head-on into.

It was a boy, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as he regarded you with an enigmatic smile, despite you just pummeling into him with your full force. The shock of the encounter left you speechless, frozen in place as the realization dawned that you were not alone in the woods after all.

You made eye contact with the stranger, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his pale face in an unsettling contrast. His tired eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. A curtain of bangs parted across his forehead, framing his features in a shadowy veil. His lips twisted into a smile and held a hint of something that lurked just beneath the surface.

There was an undeniable aura of unease that surrounded the boy, a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air like a haunting melody. As he extended a hand towards you, offering salvation in the darkness, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "It's dangerous to be out here alone at night. I can lead you to safety."

You looked up at the stranger incredulously, as if you would be dumb enough to follow a stranger you met out in the woods!

Sending your apprehension, the raven-haired boy smiles kindly, “I promise, I don’t bite. Please, it’s getting late and I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you out here by yourself.”

Weighing out your options, you realized that maybe this was your best choice. It’s either that or freezing out in the woods, or better yet being eaten by some wild animal that you hardly can find yourself against.

You looked around, dazed. With darkness closing in around you and no other options in sight, you accepted his offer.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But please don’t try anything, I’ve been told I have a killer right hook.”

He looks at you, obviously amused, “Of course, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, despite everything in your body screaming for you to keep running, you felt completely and utterly relieved to see him.

As you followed the raven-haired boy deeper into the woods, the sense of unease only intensified, wrapping around you like a suffocating cloak. "Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension.

His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he turned to face you, his expression guarded yet strangely calm. "To my cabin," he replied, his voice low and steady. "It's not far from here. You'll be safe there for the night. You can rest for as long as you need to."

Though his words offered reassurance, there was a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. You had heard stories of people disappearing in these woods, never to be seen again, and the thought sent a chill down your spine.

There was something about the dark-haired man that unsettled you, something that whispered of hidden dangers lurking beneath his calm exterior. And even so, something about him drew you in, made you feel so immediately safe with him.

"Who are you?" you pressed, your voice wavering with a mix of fear and curiosity. "And why were you out here alone?"

Yuuta hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "My name is Yuuta Okkotsu," he said finally, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I live in the woods, away from civilization. As for why I was out here...let's just say I have my reasons."

His cryptic response only fueled your apprehension, but as the darkness closed in around you and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air, you realized that you had little choice but to trust him, at least for now. With a nod of reluctant acceptance, you followed Yuuta deeper into the woods, praying that you had not just made a grave mistake.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His cabin appeared suddenly, a rustic structure nestled amidst the towering trees, its windows glowing with the warm light of a fire within.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my home," Yuuta admitted, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. "But I can't leave you out here alone. You're welcome to stay until morning." Though grateful for his offer of shelter, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud.

There was something about Yuuta's demeanor, a subtle intensity in his gaze, that sent shivers down your spine.

You stepped into Yuuta's cabin, grateful for the warmth and shelter it offered. The cozy interior enveloped you in a comforting embrace, dispelling some of the tension that had gripped you since your encounter in the woods. It was humorous actually, how warm the cabin felt in comparison to the uneasiness its owner gave you.

“Home sweet home,” Yuuta said as he took your coat and nodded his head for you to follow him.

Yuuta wasted no time in playing the role of a gracious host, offering you a change of clothes and access to his shower. His bathroom was neat, he didn’t have much, just the basics, but it was still appreciated nonetheless.

As the hot water washed away the dirt and grime of the forest, you felt a sense of relaxation seeping into your bones, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and revitalized. You found Yuuta busy in the kitchen, a delicious aroma of spices and savory delights wafting through the air.

As you peered over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with rich, fragrant curry. The sight stirred memories of comforting meals shared with loved ones, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. "That smells amazing," you murmured, your mouth watering at the thought of indulging in the hearty dish.

Yuuta glanced up from his cooking, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's just a simple curry," he said modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But I find that simple comforts are often the most satisfying."

You offered to help, eager to contribute to the meal in some way, but Yuuta shook his head gently. "No need to trouble yourself," he insisted, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to take a seat at the table. "Relax and settle down. I'll take care of everything."

Though you hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Yuuta's demeanor and the promise of a delicious meal were too enticing to resist. With a grateful smile, you sank into a chair, content to watch as Yuuta worked his culinary magic, the comforting rhythm of his movements lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment.

As you settled into Yuuta's cabin, you couldn't help but take in your surroundings with a sense of curiosity. The interior was simple yet cozy, with polished wooden floors that creaked softly underfoot and walls adorned with faded photographs and intricate tapestries.

The cabin had a rustic charm to it, its bare furnishings lending an air of simplicity to the space. Yet, despite its minimalistic design, everything seemed meticulously arranged, each item in its rightful place. There was a sense of order and precision that spoke to Yuuta's meticulous nature, a trait that you found oddly comforting.

On the shelves lining the walls, you noticed an eclectic array of books, their well-worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. From classic literature to obscure texts on folklore and mysticism, the collection spoke of a curious mind.

Nearby, a shelf displayed a collection of handmade erasers, their vibrant colors and whimsical shapes. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of these charming little creatures. There was a sense of warmth and homeliness to Yuuta's cabin that made you feel strangely at ease. It was as if the space itself radiated a sense of comfort and belonging, welcoming you with open arms into its cozy embrace.

Before you knew it, the food was done and Yuuta served you a steaming plate.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, nervous.

“It’s my pleasure,” Yuuta replied.

With the two of you sitting down to eat, you found yourself opening up to Yuuta in a way you hadn't expected. You told him about your recent breakup, the pain and heartache that had driven you to seek solace in the wilderness.

Yuuta listened attentively, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that surprised you. "It's dangerous to be out in the woods alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "Who knows what evils could be lurking in the darkness? I'm glad I found you when I did." A chill ran down your spine.

Though he had shown you nothing but kindness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anxiety that crept up around Yuuta's presence. He was good company, however, and you worked hard to ignore the way your hands clammed up and each hair on your skin stood up when he leaned in closer to speak with you. You chalked it up to your nerves.

The two of you continued to converse, him asking you more about your life and you asking about his. As Yuuta shared snippets of his past, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. There was a sort of charm to him, an undeniable allure. Despite the lingering doubts that were dancing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the attraction you had towards him. You felt like a moth catching fire as it approached an open flame.

With a sigh, Yuuta leaned back against the cushions, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames of his fireplace as if lost in thought. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, melodic murmur that sends shivers down your spine, "I wasn't always a hermit living in the woods." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

"What happened?" you ventured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, to not disturb the mood.

Yuuta's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. "I used to live in the city, surrounded by noise and chaos," he admitted, his words tinged with bitterness. "But... I lost someone very dear to me." His voice trailed off, grief etched into the lines of his face.

"She was my childhood sweetheart," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking the words aloud pains him. "We were inseparable, bound together by pure, untainted, love.”

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind outside. "She was taken from me," Yuuta murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I couldn't bear to stay in that world any longer."

As he spoke, you sensed the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him, a burden too heavy for one mere person to bear alone. "I tried to move on, to forget her and the pain of losing her," Yuuta admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the memories of our time together."

“So I left," he confessed, "I left everything behind and retreated into the solitude of the forest, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and you could not help but feel a surge of empathy for the man before you. At that moment, you realize that Yuuta and you are not so different after all, both haunted by heartbreak, seeking solace in the expanse of trees. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your desires, a longing for connection and understanding.

But even as your heart yearned to unravel the secrets hidden within Yuuta’s dark and mangled heart, a sense of unease lingered at the edges of your consciousness. There was still something unsettling about the way the shadows seemed to dance around him, as if alive with an energy of their own. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As the night stretched on, the air thick with a palpable tension, you felt a strange sense of drowsiness wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion as you let out a quiet yawn.

With a soft smile, Yuuta reached out to you. His was touch gentle, yet firm, possessive even. You felt yourself lean into his touch as if he weaved an invisible spell around you.

"You look tired," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to echo with the whispers of the forest itself. "Come with me, let me take care of you."

His words washed over you like a warm embrace, dispelling the last glimmers of doubt and fear as you allow yourself to be guided by his steady hand. With a silent nod, you allowed Yuuta to lead you to the bedroom, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a protective shield as you sank into the soft embrace of the bed.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls like dancing spirits. He leaned over you, his body flush against yours, his hand steady and reassuring against your skin.

As you lay there, the haze of drowsiness clouding your senses, you felt Yuuta begin to pull away. You grasped at the hem of his shirt, silently begging him not to go.

His features were veiled by the shroud of night, his smile, though unseen, seemed to materialize in the darkness. With a gentle pull, you drew him down to lay beside you.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yuuta's voice, a soft murmur, caressed your ear as his head nestled against your shoulder.

"Yes," you found yourself pleading, the words slipping from your lips in a whispered plea. "Don't leave."

Yuuta's lips brushed gently against your neck, his touch tender yet possessive. "I won’t,” he murmured, “I won’t ever leave,” his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”

In your sleepy state, you found yourself melting into his touch. Yuuta's kisses trailed a path of fire along your skin. Each kiss was a feather-light caress that seeped into each layer of your skin, burning you from the inside out.

Slowly, he moved up your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin with adoration.

As Yuuta's lips found their way to your jaw, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, lost in the dizzying whirlwind that you now understood as Yuuta Okkotsu.

His movements were calm and deliberate, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explored every curve and contour of your body with dedicated devotion. Each touch left you yearning for more. You would die if it meant you could feel this loved forever.

Soon enough, Yuuta’s lips found yours, his kisses both tender and possessive, his passion evident in the way he claimed your lips.

As his lips danced with yours, you found yourself with the thought of never being apart from him. It filled you with a sense of completion. You could feel the depth of his devotion. Could he feel yours?

As if to answer your question, Yuuta’s touch became more urgent, his hands roaming over your body with a ravenous hunger. You felt happy that you could be consumed so ardently, that you found yourself secretly hoping that you at least tasted good.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized Yuuta was removing your borrowed clothes bit by bit. He made sure you were left in your panties.

His strong hands moved to caress your bare skin, his fingers leaving imprints on your body. Yuuta’s nails and grip dug into your skin as he kissed you. His hands moved to explore every curve and contour of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. You wondered if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You leaned up to deepen the kiss, which only furthered Yuuta’s excitement. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his touch seeming eager, desperate, or perhaps so incredibly lonely, even.

Yuuta’s wet kisses left you dizzy, your senses were overwhelmed by him. Noticing the strain between his legs, you reached your hands down to unbutton his pants & paw at his boxers. Yuuta obliged by tossing them off to the side with your lost articles of clothing.

You moved to guide his hips to meet yours. With him between your legs, you moved to grind against him. You both gasped as his hard member pressed against your soaked panties.

You look up to see his reaction but notice something in Yuuta’s eyes become dark. His grip on your hips became tighter as his nails dug crescents into your soft skin.

Yuuta took this moment to grind himself deeper into you, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy soaked panties. You let out a wanton moan, grinding back against him, desperate for any form of friction or release. You felt his cock rub against your swollen clit, moving back and forth in a way that left you crying out for more.

As Yuuta continued to tease you, he paused for a moment, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice, "Do you want this?”

You shivered, a chill running down your spine.

With a hitched breath, you nodded.

“Will you be mine?" He asked, his eyes peering deep and dark into your own. You felt like he could see right into you like he was clawing his way into your soul to make a home in it.

You were okay with that.

You nodded again, “Yes, I’ll always be yours.”

With a glassy darkness in his eyes, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself behind you. He tsk’ed as he ripped your ruined panties off, throwing off into the darkness of the room.

Well, you didn’t need those, anyway.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make it so you can’t ever think to leave,” sending shivers down your spine.

Yuuta trailed hot kisses along your skin as he positioned himself above you. With a low moan, he pressed himself against you, the throbbing hardness of his member seeking entrance to your dripping heat.

And then, with a thrust, he entered you. Yuuta’s hands gripped your ass as he slowly sunk his hard length into your wet core. You sucked in a breath, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as he filled your pussy completely. He was big. So much bigger than you anticipated.

‘We fit together perfectly’, you thought to yourself.

His pace was slow, with him getting used to the tightness of your cunt. You looked up at him with adoration as he leaned over your shoulder to give you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. A trail of saliva left between your lips when you parted.

Yuuta’s spent no extra moment finding his stride, his movements becoming rough and unyielding as he fucks you with such devoted reverence. You’re helpless. All you could do was beg for more as you gulped in the air.

It’s obscene, the way he makes you moan. You’re powerless to fight against the way he makes your heart skip and your stomach churn. You feel on fire like he’s burning you to a crisp of ash and dust only to resurrect you again if only to just keep fucking you.

Yuuta’s movements become more urgent and the tension between you reaches its peak. With each thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by Yuuta.

Suddenly, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. With a cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the only thing able to leave your mouth is the chant of, “Yuuta-- Ah, Yuuta, Yuuta.”

“I’m here,” he replies, voice strained feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, “I’m right here.” Feeling the wetness and tightness of your cum triggers Yuuta’s climax, and with a stifled moan, he follows suit, pouring his hot cum into you.

Yuuta pulls you into his arms, his leaky cock still hard inside of you. Your dark-haired lover kisses your temple and leaves sweet whispers across the sweat of your skin. He holds you close, entwining you into him as your eyelids get heavy and you feel sleep take over your spent body.

You feel loved.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In your dreams, you find yourself lost in a labyrinth of shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. Whispers echo through the darkness, taunting you with half-formed promises and cryptic warnings.

You stumble through the endless maze, searching for an escape, but the shadows seem to shift and twist, leading you further into the depths of your despair.

And then, just when you think you can bear it no longer, you see him. Yuuta stands before you, his dark eyes looking into yours as he reaches out to you with a hand shrouded in darkness.

He whispers something, you don’t understand. But you still reach out, taking his hand into yours.

You awaken with a start, the echoes of your nightmare still lingering in the recesses of your mind.

Heart pounding, you sit up in bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Yuuta is gone, but his warmth remains.

A sense of foreboding settles over you like a shroud.

[hrrtshape]

THINGS TO REMEMBER WHEN YOU'RE DOUBTING SHIFTING a.k.a DIVING INTO THE CONCEPT OF THE SOUL ✶

the idea of souls is the most beautiful, most romantic thing ever. because...who are we really? we’re not just flesh and bone, ticking along. we’re something more.

your soul is the eternal essence of you—your consciousness, your thoughts, your love, your dreams. it’s the part of you that has existed forever and will continue long after this one human life is done. the body? a temporary rental. the soul? that's the real home.

imagine this: your soul is like a little spark of the universe, a fragment of the stars, wandering through realities to experience everything it can. each life, each timeline, each moment is like flipping to a new page in a book. it’s all about the story, and the story is infinite.

𖥻  THE ETERNAL YOU. who you are right now? that’s just one chapter. your soul has seen other worlds, other lives, other possibilities. every little thing you feel, the deja vu, the dreams that feel too real, the magnetic pull toward certain initiatives, periods of time, objects—that’s your soul saying, “hey, remember when we were here before ?”

𖥻  SOULS DON’T AGE. that’s the gag. you might be whatever age you are right now here and now, but your soul? it's ancient. timeless. wise beyond the stars. think about how you sometimes just know things, or you feel a deep connection to places, people, or ideas. that’s your soul’s memory peeking through.

𖥻  THE COSMIC GAME. your soul came here to play. to love, cry, mess up, and learn. it’s all about experience—because even the messy parts, the heartbreak and chaos? they add flavour to the story. your soul isn’t scared of pain; it’s curious. it’s here to gather every emotion, every shade of existence.

𖥻  SOUL CONNECTIONS. you know those people you meet and immediately click with, like you’ve known them forever? or the places that feel like home even if you’ve never been there? that’s soul recognition. your soul is like, “hey, I know you ! we’ve danced this dance before.” example of this in my life is the fact that i genuinely believe i'm connected with the city of paris—i can't begin to describe the depression i have whenever i leave it or the ecstasy that runs through my brain every second i'm there. coincidence`? i think not.

𖥻  THE UNIVERSE IS YOUR CANVAS. your soul doesn’t just exist in this one little reality. oh no. it's out there painting across dimensions, skipping through timelines, creating infinite versions of itself. and every version? it’s still YOU. all of them are threads in the tapestry of your existence.

𖥻  SOULS ARE STARDUST. LITERALLY. you’re made of the same stuff as the stars. so, if you’ve ever stared at the night sky and felt small, flip that thought. you’re not small—you’re connected. you’re the universe looking back at itself. you’re a whole galaxy in human form.

𖥻  LOVE IS THE LANGUAGE OF SOULS. not just romantic love (though, yes, swoon), but the love you feel for life, art, music, laughter, sunsets, the way your favourite book smells. that’s your soul’s way of speaking. every time you feel love, you’re feeding your soul.

𖥻  DEATH ISN’T THE END. it’s just the soul saying, “okay, cool chapter. time for the next one.” it’s moving forward, exploring, learning, always expanding. the end of this life is just the beginning of another adventure.

𖥻  YOU’RE NOT YOUR BODY. your body is stunning and unique and so, so special. but it’s not YOU. the real you is the consciousness inside, the little light piloting this human-shaped vessel. your soul chose this body, this life, this moment for a reason.

𖥻  EVERYTHING IS VIBRATION. your soul is energy. and energy? it doesn’t die. it flows, shifts, and transforms. when you feel aligned, like you’re glowing or vibrating with joy—that’s your soul saying, “YES, this is it, this is what i’m here for.”

so when you feel stuck or small, remember this: you are a spark of eternity wrapped up in human skin. you are light, love, and infinite potential. your soul is dancing through this reality, and every breath, every moment is a gift it chose to experience.

you’re a freaking miracle. and everything is truly possible.

[natjennie]

"isn't it kinda funny that helio chose you, and you were the one to bring the daytime back? that doesn't feel special at all to you?" holy shit that's heartbreaking. like obviously the applebees aren't great people, they have a lot of harmful beliefs and a lot of misplaced fear and false righteousness but. it's gotta be heartbreaking. to watch your child, chosen cleric of helio, perform the miracle of bringing the sun back from eternal night, and still choose a dead mysterious goddess of darkness over you. I felt that "that doesn't feel special at all to you?" in my bones.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine breaking Sanji’s heart so that he joins the Strawhats…

“I told Zeff that I’m not going to be a waiter.” Sanji’s voice rose, already tense from the shouting match he had with Zeff about leaving the Baratie to follow his dreams.

“Well, you can’t be a cook here either.” You argued, fighting the urge not to throw up at the lies tumbling out of your mouth. “Why do you even want to stay if you know that?”

Sanji stared at you incredulously. “Zeff can’t run this place by himself and I wouldn’t dare to leave you. You know this.” He turned and resumed cleaning the broken plates.

You watched him work quietly. How had your innocent love transform into a flame that slowly swallowed his bridge for opportunity?

He wouldn’t leave the Baratie, Zeff failed to convince his decision and you felt your stomach drop at the realisation of what you had to do to push him over the edge.

You had to break his heart. Composing yourself, you hardened your expression, bracing for what was likely going to be your end.

“I want to be with someone who isn’t a coward.”

Sanji physically reacted to the words. The broken dishes clattered as they hit the floor while his muscles tensed under his shirt.

“Excuse me?” He frowned, looking over his shoulder.

Holding firm, you turned your bones into steel the second that you felt them going weak. As much as it hurt you, you had to hammer further.

“You’re a coward, Sanji. You call yourself a chef with dreams but when the opportunity rises, you hide behind your comforts.”

“I am not a coward.” His tone told you a nerve had been struck.

“You are. You always have been. I just ignored it while being swept by your affection. But not anymore.” You reaffirmed. “I don’t deserve someone so low.”

Picking up the towel from his shoulder, Sanji tossed it on a broken table angrily.

“No, you don’t.” He commented bitterly.

Turning on his heel, the young man stormed out of the Baratie. The only uplifting thought that crossed your mind was that he was headed in the direction of Luffy and his crew.

Now standing in the silence. The realisation of what you had said finally caught up. You had spent countless days laying in his lap dreaming of a future where you’d both sail the seas endlessly for the All Blue.

That’s all it was - a dream.

A choked sob escaped and just like that you were crying, dropping to the floor amongst the broken plates and the shattered remnants of your heart.

Zeff barged in when he heard the loud thump. Worried, the ex-pirate rushed over. He saw the tears and the shaking shoulders and his stomach dropped.

“What have you done? What did you say to him?”

“Nothing that will bring him back.” You whispered.

Zeff bent down and wrapped his arms around you to console but his comfort only forced your heartbreak to the surface. “I’ve lost him, Zeff.”

Running a hand over your back, Zeff was devastated. He was convinced that Sanji would marry you - in fact, Zeff was so convinced that he had already planned out the catering for the day and had a theme or two in mind for the decor.

All he needed was Sanji to place a ring on your finger. But as the day had unfolded, it was clear that it was merely the dream of a fool.

You had achieved what the head chef couldn’t, paying the heaviest price of all - love.

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: This made my heart hurt too x

[userlando]

the love we left — carlos sainz jr

carlos sainz jr x fem!reader [8.8k] summary: you weren’t aware that your family’s worry had extended so far that they’d brought in the heavy artillery, it being carlos sainz of all people. the very same person who’d turned you into someone you didn’t recognise in the mirror anymore. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, very angsty, mentions of alcohol abuse and drug use, heartbreak, childhood friends, brother's best friend, public sex a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts, unfinished for a whole month so I went back and thought that it deserved a second chance. and voilà, here you have it! my very first carlos fic!! i'd love to hear your thoughts on this, because I love how this turned out. happy reading my lovelies!! x

The music was pounding, borderline rupturing your eardrum with good music that had you bobbing your head gently to the intimate beat. Everywhere you looked were bodies, moving in unison and hands roaming sweaty skin.

The bartender poured drinks like his life depended on it, and you watched him pour you another shot of tequila without a verbal request from you, shooting you a friendly grin and side stepping to help the next customer. You downed your shot, pulling a small face at the rancid taste as you made your way to the dance floor.

You didn’t know when you’d become this type of person. The person who’d spend their weekends in clubs, dancing the nights away until they got blisters on their feet and most likely woke up with their head in a toilet bowl. It had started out as something you and your girlfriends did, sneaking into clubs when you’d just turned legal, but then you’d started going alone because you found out that sitting in your apartment alone with your thoughts was way too much for you to handle.

You weren’t strong enough to deal with your emotions, preferring to find people and alcohol to distract you. It had worked out quite well for you and the multiple shots you’d taken over the span of two hours were starting to settle in your bones, buzzing right beneath your skin and giving you enough courage to seek out the dance floor.

Your body moved like it was an entity of its own, face tilted up to the ceiling and eyes closed as you felt the music. It rattled your bones and settled in your hips, the bottom of your heels sticking to the floor with every step you took.

I’ve never seen someone look so at home on a dance floor, he’d once said. The words came sneaking into your mind, unbidden. You could still remember the party, how your brother had bought the whole gang shots and you’d taken to the floor with laughter and happiness in your bellies. The DJ hadn’t been very happy when your brother and the man of the hour stepped up to the booth and completely took over with their non-existent experience of manning a DJ booth, but he’d relented when your brother had drunkenly explained that this man right here? He’s gonna be racing cars professionally, cabrón.

You were so far gone in your head, not even flinching at the pair of hands sliding over your waist and pulling you into a body. The person smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, and it made something roll in your stomach at the mix of it in your nostrils but you couldn’t pull away. He was yet another distraction from your messed up life, and you welcomed it in all forms.

If you let yourself take a step back and think of exactly why you allowed a complete stranger to touch you the way they were, you’d come to the conclusion that the reason was because the feeling of hands on your hips reminded you of him. That one damned night that changed you, that made you into this.

He’d cornered you against the wall, claimed your lips in a bruising kiss that left you panting and his hands. Fuck. His hands had gripped your hips so tight that you’d had bruises for a whole week after that encounter.

You’d thought that finally, finally the both of you would be together after years of pining; Spending your awkward teenage years wishing that your brother’s best friend would look at you as a girl he could imagine kissing, and not as his best friend’s sister and a family friend. But then he’d acted like nothing happened, leaving you in the dust with little to no explanation as he went to kickstart his career.

Bile rose in your throat as your brain entered dangerous territory, and you blinked your eyes open against the lights. It was blurry, and it took a few moments for you to realise that there were tears welling up in your eyes. You’d stopped crying long ago, but sometimes the tears managed to sneak up on you when you were vulnerable and drunk.

The hands on your body were suddenly too much, and just as you were about to run, someone grabbed you and yanked a little harder than you had been prepared for. You stumbled, a wordless shout leaving your lips when you were pulled to the side of the dance floor, legs struggling to keep up. It took a second for you to realise that someone had grabbed you and was in the process of dragging you off the dance floor, away from the sweaty and dancing bodies, away from the man who you’d danced with. Your eyes were scanning your surroundings, feeling too drunk to think of a good plan to escape so you settled for the only thing that would hopefully get someone’s attention.

Before you could open your mouth and scream, a hand settled right on your lips and muffled the sound, your eyes flickering up to the man in front of you in the hopes that you could shoot him the most pleading look through your eyes.

You found yourself looking into round and dark eyes, so eerily familiar that it made your stomach violently turn and you took a stumbling step back like shock itself had shoved you, turning around to promptly retch into a nearby trash can. You heaved and clutched at the edge of the bin with your hands, moaning miserably until it finally stopped.

“Come on, let’s get you outside.” His voice sounded somewhere behind you, somehow overpowering the pulsing music.

His hands grabbed at you, helping you steady yourself and you didn’t bother to spare him another glance as you weakly shoved his hands away. He didn’t fight you, nor say anything when you walked straight out of the club, legs feeling incredibly weak and hands shaking; like you were two seconds away from breaking down.

And you were. What the fuck was he doing here? Why would he come back?

The chilly air was welcomed when you pushed the back door open, stumbling out into the alley and breathing in, in an effort to sober up. You ignored your trembling hands as you dug around in your purse for gum, anything to get rid of the sour taste in your mouth but you doubted it would do much to settle the nausea roiling in your stomach.

You heard a scuffle behind you, causing you to freeze because you’d been hoping that it was all just your drunken mind playing tricks on you; Because it happened sometimes. It had happened in your dreams, and once when you’d smoked a dodgy rolled up joint and hallucinated him being there. But no, he was standing there when you turned around, eyebrows pulled together in that annoying frown he always wore whenever he disapproved of something. His face was passive though, eyes not giving away anything and it was so infuriating.

He’d always played the older brother, acting like he had some kind of right to decide over you just because he was your brother’s friend. But his feelings had been anything but fraternal, he’d made that very clear when he decided to fuck you and leave.

You swallowed, feeling nauseous as you stood staring at him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, cursing yourself quietly when your voice shook. But you sounded stern, even in your drunken state and something about your tone made the man grit his teeth.

“I was worried—“

No. You didn’t need to hear the same old spiel again. He didn’t get to be worried about you, not anymore.

“What are you doing here, Carlos?” You cut him off, making him cringe at the way you said his name, sharply and angry - so differently from how you used to say it.

“Your family is worried about you.” He replied slowly.

The way he talked reminded you of someone who spoke carefully as to not scare away a skittish animal. It was very bizarre, the feeling so unreal that you had a hard time believing that your fucked up mind hadn’t decided to conjure him up on a random Sunday night. A few moments passed as you stared, and stared. He was truly there in the flesh.

You were aware that your mother had been worried, calling you every day to check up on you and you gave her the same old answer because what else was there to say?

You just weren’t aware that your family’s worry had extended so far that they’d brought in the heavy artillery, it being Carlos fucking Sainz of all people. The very same person who’d turned you into someone you didn’t recognise in the mirror anymore.

“I wanted to check up on you, see how you are doing.” He broke the drawn out silence, stuffing both of his hands into the pockets of his jacket like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

You remembered the odd habit he used to have, where he’d wring his hands whenever he felt out of place. It was such a minuscule detail that barely anyone took notice of, but you did. You always did.

Your eyes dropped to follow the movement, noting the casual jeans and the red hoodie under his black jacket. You quickly looked away, refusing to think about how good he looked.

“Well, now you have. So you can go.” You shot him a smile with no real joy behind it, turning around and walking down the alleyway in the direction of your apartment.

You knew that he wouldn’t leave you alone, and a big part of you wanted him to. But you couldn’t deny that one percent that wanted, needed him to stay.

The sounds of his footsteps let you know that he wasn’t far behind and you jumped like he’d burned you when you felt his fingertips touch your arm. Just a quick touch that lit your body on fire. Your eyes found his and you took a big step back, feeling your chest go tight at the slight downwards tilt of his lips, like he hadn’t expected you to react negatively.

“Nena, please. Let me walk you home, at least.” He said and your throat tightened up at the familiar pet name he’d called you since you were children and so incredibly naive.

“Don’t call me that.” You sniffled, bringing a hand up to rub at your nose. “You don’t get to show up here after two years and play the hero. I don’t need one, and I certainly don’t need you.”

“Lo sé.” He said, but he really didn’t know, did he?

You didn’t say a word, taking two steps before glaring down at your shoes. They had been a pain the whole night and now that the alcohol wasn’t doing its job of numbing the pain, your feet were starting to hurt from being pinched for the past few hours. You balanced yourself with a hand on the wall, slipping your heels off with a quiet grumble and shoving the offending footwear into the man’s chest. Carlos grunted at the unexpected force, hands coming up to catch the heels before they dropped and raising both eyebrows at you.

You weren’t looking at his face, but you could tell that he was baffled by your actions and it made you feel just a tad bit smug. If he was going to show up and insist on pestering you, he might as well make himself useful.

The concrete was uncomfortable to walk barefoot on, but it felt freeing and you took comfort in that feeling. Anything to not think about exactly who was walking a few steps behind you, feeling his eyes on you like hot coal on your skin.

“Do you live far from here?” He asked, tone cautious like he didn’t want to say the wrong things or set you off.

“No, why?” You turned your head to look over your shoulder and found him walking way closer to you than you thought. “Is the neighbourhood not up to your standards?”

You knew you were being petty now, playing unfair and it clearly annoyed Carlos as he looked away to avoid your cold gaze. It wasn’t his fault that he’d gone and got himself an even more lavish lifestyle where he raced cars for a living and got millions out of it. You’d always been proud of him, one of his biggest supporters before everything transpired and although you didn’t want to admit it out loud, you’d always keep tabs on him.

There weren’t enough fingers on your hands to count the amount of times you’d struggled to not pick up your phone and text him after he’d won a race, or if he did badly. The urge to comfort him and to be happy for him was still there, even years later.

“I live down the road.” You said, desperate to break the tension. “You can go.”

Carlos fell into step beside you, not sparing you a glance as he nodded.

“I know.” He said, but made no effort to leave you alone.

The two of you walked in relative silence, interjecting with small talk every now and then to fill the unbearable quiet that had blanketed over you. It took a few minutes for Carlos to relax, shoulders dropping like the tension was slowly seeping out of his body when he realised that you were beyond your anger now, speaking softly rather than the tone you’d carried a few minutes earlier. He didn’t like how you sounded though, mellow and short, like you’d given up on caring. It made something ugly swirl in his stomach to the point where he started to feel nauseous.

He was starting to spiral in his thoughts, trapped inside his head and just as he opened his mouth to speak, you beat him to it.

“How’s Ferrari treating you?” You asked and his head snapped to you. You weren’t looking at him, staring straight ahead with your mouth in a thin line. “You’ve been doing well lately.”

Carlos didn’t know if you were trying to act nonchalant and if you were, you were doing a piss poor job because he could see how you struggled to maintain a neutral expression on your face. He didn’t want to point it out though because his mind had finally caught up to your question, teetering along the edge of she’s keeping tabs on me.

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and he hurriedly cleared his throat. “It’s been good, felt like a dream when I signed the contract.”

You could still remember when he started karting, how he’d plead with his parents to buy him merchandise with the Ferrari logo poorly pressed onto the material. It had always been a dream of his, and something about him achieving it made you smile.

“I bet it was.” You said softly, glancing at Carlos to find him staring at you; eyes wide and searching, like he was taking in your smile. You hurried to look away, suddenly uncomfortable with the rush of old emotions storming back and taking residence in your entire being.

“How have you been?” He asked, genuine and curious.

You considered ignoring his question, not knowing how to answer him without making yourself out to be the most pathetic person to grace the earth. How could you tell him how you’d been in a downwards spiral for the past years? Could you even admit to the things you’d done, how you’d drank yourself to oblivion in hopes to numb yourself and worked dead end jobs to keep yourself afloat?

“I’ve been fine.” Your tone was flat, letting him know that you weren’t in the mood to delve deeper and thankfully he respected your wishes, keeping silent. “Well, here we are.”

You nodded up at the apartment complex you’d stopped in front of, suddenly feeling awkward as you found yourselves staring at each other with no idea how to proceed.

Carlos fidgeted as you stared at him, looking as anxious as you felt and it made you a little sad because you’d been better than this, once upon a time. You’d never known awkward silences or odd looks, but you’d somehow managed to go from close to whatever the fuck this was. Strangers. Ex-lovers. But could you even dub him as an ex-lover when you’d only slept with him once?

You took in the sharpness of his jaw, the stubble growing on it fitting him as well as you remembered but there was a certain edge to him that hadn’t existed last time you saw him. He looked fully grown up, like an adult who didn’t have time for children’s games and torrid love affairs.

Homesickness bloomed in your chest the further your mind delved into the past, suddenly wishing that things were different. Wishing that you’d swallowed your pride and picked up your phone.

Would he have answered? Did he change his number?

You swallowed excessive saliva in your mouth, trying not to grimace when it felt like swallowing gravel as your eyes traveled down his arm that he’d successfully managed to free from his pocket, hanging by his side. Your eyes latched onto the space between his thumb and pointer finger, where the tan skin was white and raised in a small bump. A healed scar that brought such a rush of memories that the words tumbled out of your mouth before you overthought them.

“Do you wanna come in?” You asked and Carlos couldn’t manage to hold his surprise in, eyebrows shooting up and jaw going a little slack. “Just… for a while.”

It probably sounded wrong, like you were inviting him with ulterior motives and you weren’t. Really. Just the thought of him touching you made bile rise in your throat and you realised that you weren’t ready. For any of this. But then again, would you ever be ready?

Whatever inner monologue you were running through in your head was halted when Carlos exhaled, glancing at the apartment building before nodding twice.

“Me encantaría.” He said, voice gentle.

You hurried to get your keys out of your purse, hands shaking a little and you didn’t know whether it was from your nerves being shot or the unhealthy amount of alcohol you’d consumed not even an hour ago. The door gave way when you turned the key and pushed it forcefully with your shoulder, stepping inside and flicking the light on.

It wasn’t much. A one bedroom apartment in a safe enough neighbourhood. Your brother had scowled and made his displeasure known when he’d helped you move in, even offering to find you a better place to rent out but you refused. Mostly because this was further away from your family and because it was yours. It had its defects and flaws, but you loved it from the moment you stepped foot inside.

Your brother and Carlos were like one person in two bodies, so you almost expected him to get his two cents in when he stepped in behind you and closed the door; Eyes roaming around and taking in the place. His face gave nothing away, as always, but then his brown eyes landed on you and his lips twitched.

“I like it.” He said, like you’d asked.

You gave a nod, secretly pleased but then you scolded yourself because why the fuck did you even care what he thought? Mierda.

“Glad to know you approve.” You muttered, annoyance pricking your heart and you didn’t know why. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.”

You left him to his own devices, standing in the middle of the living area looking a little lost while you sought out the comfort of your bedroom. The door closed with a click and you hurriedly changed your clothes to something more comfortable, snatching your makeup wipes where they’d fallen on the floor to wipe at your face. Your makeup was smudged, embarrassingly so but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when your heart was racing a mile a minute, thinking of the man on the other side of the door.

There was a moment of panic where you felt that shit, you shouldn’t have invited him in because this apartment was the only place he hadn’t touched, soiled with his fake promises and lies.

The memories of you in his bed came back with full force, thinking of how you’d woken up in the middle of the night with a smile on your face that got wiped as soon as you touched the cold side of his bed. He’d been nowhere to be found, and you’d contemplated staying and hoping that he’d come back in the morning but then you’d found his contract on the kitchen counter and the packed suitcases you’d somehow skimmed over when you were wrapped up in him.

It had felt like a gut punch and it still did as you stared at yourself in the mirror, swallowing against the nausea swirling up from your stomach to your throat. Your eyes welled with tears, and you gave yourself a moment to silently cry before you wiped angrily at your eyes, reaching for your toothbrush.

You thought back on your younger self, how she’d been so happy to have finally caught the eyes of her brother’s best friend. After years of pining and hoping that he’d see her as something more than his sister. How he’d once wiped a thumb under her eye when she’d first started experiencing with makeup in her teenage years, and he’d softly said that you don’t need so much of it. You’re beautiful, nena.

You deserved better, but you didn’t know what better was. Was it in the arms of a man or the bottom of a shot glass? It was a terrifying revelation, to realise how fucked up your life had become and it was all your fault.

Closure. That was what you needed, wasn’t it? But you didn’t want to move on from him, because despite it all, you still loved him.

Carlos had his back to you when you came out of your room, staring hard at the frames on the wall and you briefly wondered if he noticed how you’d deliberately left out the pictures with him.

“I remember this day.” He said quietly without looking at you. His finger pointed at a framed picture of you and your best friend, at an animal sanctuary with your hands stretched out, feeding a giraffe. “You were so happy to finally see giraffes, no one could pull you away from them.”

You wanted to smile at the memory, but it was hard when emotion was still clogging up your throat. You embraced yourself and sat down on your sofa, making a small hum of acknowledgement instead. Carlos turned around at that, sweeping his eyes across the small area before settling on you.

“Things change.” You said, because they really did.

“Sí.” He sighed, taking a seat in the ottoman. The seat furthest away from you, you noted. “I have that picture in my driver’s room. Not that one, but a similar one where you’re by yourself.”

You knew what picture he was referring to and it made you frown. Why would he confess to that?

“Why?” You asked, because that was the question, wasn’t it? Why, why, why?

Carlos inhaled through his nose, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Reminds me of how simple life used to be.” He said, like it answered the million questions in your head.

You didn’t ask him to elaborate, because you didn’t want to hear it. It must’ve been difficult to lead such a fast paced life, hopping from one country to the other and spending hours on driving cars. You’d imagine that it got a little too much at some point, rendering you homesick and yearning for a simpler life. But it didn’t work like that. Life rarely went the way you wanted it to.

“Why are you really here, Carlos?” You asked, the question so sudden that it cut through the false sense of security the both of you had managed to build.

He stared at you, eyes unmoving and it was so unnerving that you looked down in your lap, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

“I miss you.” He said, and you barely managed to hold in the scoff. Barely. “I miss us.”

“There was no us.” You interjected, spitting the word out like it was venom.

It might as well have been because Carlos hands curled into fists where they stayed in his lap, something he always did to reel his frustration in. Somehow, that angered you. You weren’t the one who walked out. You weren’t the one who left him behind.

“I kno—“

“No, you don’t!” You hissed, fury finally unfurling in your chest. “El problema es usted no sabe mi dolor o mi vacío. You just walk back into my life like I’m supposed to welcome you with open arms.”

Your breathing was picking up, chest heaving with the lack of air you were heaving in and it did nothing to stop the pricks of tears in your eyes as you raised your head to glare at him. Carlos looked taken aback, hands slack from the previous fists and his eyes looked… Sad. Regretful. It was so pitiful that you couldn’t help but laugh wetly and humourlessly, bringing a sleeved hand to wipe at your nose.

“I don’t know what to say.” He admitted after a painful silence.

You looked away, sniffling as tears started falling traitorously, tracking your cheeks and you hated yourself for it. The last thing you wanted to do in front of Carlos was cry, but it seemed like your heart disagreed.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” You said, quietly. “You’ve already had me and it wasn’t enough.”

“It was enough.” His voice was more forceful than you expected, making your stomach drop. “It is enough. The fault was never with you, it was me.”

“Cállate.” You shook your head. “Don’t do the it’s not you, it’s me bullshit.”

Carlos sucked his teeth in exasperation.

“You know I’ve always loved you, nena.” He said and it made you look up.

Love? For a moment, your heart stopped beating in your chest as hope flared in every crevice of your body. But you reeled it in just as quick, because if he called fucking and dumping love, then you were better off. You might’ve been damaged but you still recognised that you deserved better.

“I don’t know.” You set your jaw. “You have a funny way of showing it, if you do.”

He sat up in the ottoman, ignoring the groan of protest it gave under his weight. The both of you stared at each other for a second and it felt like the longest hour of your life.

“That night…” He began, trailing off like he wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words. “Nena, I didn’t do anything that I regretted, and I still don’t. The only thing I regret is leaving you the way I did because you deserve so much better.”

Something wet touched your throat and you hurried to wipe at it, realising that tears were still rolling down your face. It irked you.

Carlos sighed heavily, like the conversation was too much to bear and you agreed with that sentiment, for once.

“Then why did you? Leave?” Your voice was quiet, broken and you hated the sound of it.

Carlos pulled a small face like it pained him to hear you so broken down, and it sent a small zip of satisfaction through you. You wanted him to hurt like you’d hurt.

“Because I was scared.” He confessed. “I was scared about everything. Your brother, this new life that I got pushed into. It was too much and I was panicking that night. I just wanted to feel normal again.”

“So… you slept with me and left?” You laughed bitterly.

Carlos cut you a stern look that still, to this day, shut you right up. He’d always had the face for it, the round and wide dark eyes and the bushy eyebrows. He could look intimidating when he wanted to, not that he ever scared you but you knew when to shut up.

“No. I sought you out because you were the only person who feels safe, who feels like home.”

He said feels. Not felt. So did that mean you still felt like home to him? You weren’t sure what to think or believe, feeling nauseous and lost all of a sudden.

“I realise that I went about it completely wrong.” He continued when you still hadn’t spoken. “I have a lot of regrets in my life, nena. But leaving you in my bed is the biggest of them all.”

The confession felt heavy, riddled with underlying emotions and confessions that you weren’t really ready to confront nor unpack. It was exhausting, all this new information invading your every sense and Carlos must’ve sensed how overwhelmed you’d suddenly become, because he palmed the tops of his thighs and sucked his teeth.

“Do you wanna get out for a bit?” He asked and you raised your eyebrows in slight bewilderment.

“It’s two in the morning.” You replied slowly and that prompted a smile from Carlos.

The sight of it was so unexpected and beautiful that it felt like a sucker punch, making you look away before you started staring.

“That never stopped you before.”

Before. Before when you’d sneak out of the house with your girlfriends to meet up with other friends and go to the most obscure parties. And Carlos would always be the one to catch you in the act, whenever he stayed over the house. He’d never berate or rat you out, just smirk and tell you to stay safe. To call if you ever needed him.

“Fine.” You relented, standing up and making your way over to the hallway. “Do you have a car?”

“Yeah, I parked it not too far from here.” He regarded you silently when you reached for your shoes, slipping them on. “Are you going to go out like that?”

It didn’t sound judgemental, only curious and that’s why you shot him an amused stare instead of picking up a fight out of annoyance.

“Yes.” You said, short and sweet.

He gave you a long stare before nodding, and that was that.

Fifteen minutes later and you were sitting in the passenger seat of a Ferrari, speeding down the deserted highway. There was no clear destination in either of your minds, but you cracked open the window and let the wind whip your hair, closing your eyes for a moment.

The radio was playing quietly in the background, almost drowned out by the roar of the engine, but it was comforting all the same.

Carlos hadn’t said a word since he started the car, only hitting you with a do you want seat warmers on? to which you’d shook your head. But he was good company, silent and comforting, just like he used to be.

“I love this song.” You said softly when the voices on the radio drifted off, the familiar tunes of Lovers Rock filling the relative silence.

Carlos didn’t say anything, just reached a hand out to turn the sound up a few bars, shooting you a glance that you felt in your core. It was amazing how he still made you feel like that, like someone had reached down your throat and fisted your heart violently. It was a sickening feeling, one that was so addicting and dangerous but you still yearned for it.

You were still mad at him, but you could also see a clearer picture now that he’d given you his side of the story and apologised. It wasn’t that you forgave him - that would take time - but you weren’t holding a grudge as strong like before.

It was hard though, to not acknowledge how he still made you feel like the wide eyed teenage girl who’d once saw the stars and moon in his dark eyes, who’d feel sick with love and admiration for him.

Because love can burn like a cigarette,

and leave you alone with nothing.

There was an irony to the lyrics, one that seemed to fit your current life like a glove. Carlos cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, breaking the silence.

Your stomach still felt unsettled from the drinks you’d had and from him showing up and upending your life, so you shook your head in the negative and turned your head to look at him.

“No, thank you.” You whispered.

Carlos didn’t take his eyes off the road and you took the chance to look at him, taking in the sharpness of his jaw and his strong nose. His hair was longer than last time you saw him, floppy and soft without any product in it and it should’ve annoyed you how beautiful he looked. Like something straight out of a romance movie.

There were a slight shadow under his eyes though, looking a lot like a person who carried the weight of the world on their shoulders and you fisted your hands in your lap to avoid reaching out to swipe a thumb over the bags of his eyes. You’d been so swept up in your anger that you’d failed to realise that Carlos was probably hurting just as much, he just couldn’t show it or self-destruct.

“Estás mirando, nena.” His voice, paired with the pull of his mouth made you look away.

Warmth spread all over your body when you realised that you’d been caught staring, for far too long to play it off.

“Where are we going?” You asked, in desperate need to change the subject and Carlos noticed it, because his nose flared as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth; Like he was trying to hold his smile off.

“La playa.” He said.

The air had chilled considerably when you stepped out of the car, the wind whipping your bare legs and you pulled your sweater over your hands to find some comforting warmth as you gazed out over the beach.

It was dark, completely deserted even by the boardwalk and it was perfect for you, not in the mood to run into anyone who might know the man who was currently walking a few steps behind you.

The sand found its way into your shoes but you paid it little to no mind as you hurried your steps to the shoreline, far enough that the water wouldn't reach you, but close enough to hear the ominuous sounds of crashing waves.

"It's cold." Carlos said and you turned around, taking in the scrunch of his nose as he glanced around.

"Es perfecto." You said, waiting until Carlos looked over at you to give him a tentative smile. There was something in his face that changed at the sight of your open and vulnerable expression, but you didn't stop to think too hard on it.

Instead, you reached for your oversized sweater and pulled it clean off your head, ignoring Carlos' sounds of mortified and confused protest. His voice climbed in octaves when you kicked your shorts off, toeing your shoes away before you began walking backwards toward the ocean.

"Ay, what are you doing?" He asked, taking a step forward like he wanted to stop you. "You're gonna get sick!"

You ignored him, only breaking eye contact when the current carried up the shore, frothy water licking your calves and it was so cold that you felt it in your entire being. A sharp gasp left your lips, but you were determined to get a dip in just to clear your head.

It had been a long night, and getting sick was the last thing on your mind as water enveloped you.

Carlos watched silently, though his heart was pounding against his ribcage whenever he lost sight of you for a mere second. You'd always emerge from the water, smiling like you were in your own world and that's probably what stopped him from stalking right over and yank you out of the bed of water.

You looked so free, the complete opposite of how you'd looked the entire night and he selfishly didn't want that look on your face to diminish. Granted, you weren't smiling out of joy nor were you directing it at him, but the burden on your shoulders looked a little lighter when you finally started walking out of the water.

He tried hard not to stare at your body, the skimpy lingerie doing absolutely nothing to hide the most private parts of you. Carlos didn't know if he was just imagining things, but you'd truly grown into yourself since he last saw you.

You were shivering when you reached him, arms embracing your upper body like they were going to provide the warmth you needed to not send yourself into shock. He shrugged his jacket off without thinking when you hurriedly redressed in your sweater, water still dripping down your hair and body.

Carlos was ever the worrier, sitting you down on the sand and draping his jacket around your shoulder. You didn't protest, happily accepting it with a stuttered thank you that had his chest squeezing.

"You've always been good at surprising me." Carlos said when a few minutes had passed. He smiled when you gazed at him, trying not to react when you shifted and accidentally bumped your thigh against his.

You pulled away slightly, looking out into the darkness.

"How long are you staying?" You asked, quietly and slowly like you weren't sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

You knew realistically that he couldn't stay, he wouldn't. Carlos had a whole other life to live and a job to tend to, but you'd foolishly believed that maybe he'd stick around.

Carlos had a crease between his eyebrows that told you otherwise though, and you knew what was coming out of his mouth before he even said the words.

"Two days." He replied quietly, the sound almost getting swallowed up by the rushing waves in the distance. "I'm supposed to be in Italy by now but I wanted to see you."

You smiled despite yourself, a small graze of the lips that had Carlos inhale through his nose.

"I'm glad you came." You confessed out loud, the very same words you'd been scared to utter for the past hour.

Now they were out in the open, and Carlos was staring at the side of your head like he'd maybe heard wrong.

"Me too." He said softly, watching you shift as a breeze blew by.

Your thigh grazed his and this time, you didn't move away, letting the warmth of your flesh seep through his jeans.

"I'm sorry for everything." Carlos pulled a leg up to rest his cheek on the knee, head turned towards you. "I wish I could take it all back."

"I know." You said quietly.

You looked at each other in silence and you took in the slope of his nose and the tanned skin. The apples of his cheeks were a little sunburnt, lips dry but oh so full and inviting. You stared at them, thinking back to how they'd tasted that one fateful night.

Carlos cheeks went a little pink at your scrutiny and you quickly looked away, feeling yourself flush warmth all over at being caught staring so obviously.

"Come with me." He said and you blinked, confusion marring your face when you turned back to look at him. "To Italy. Just to get away for a bit. You can meet my friends and watch me race."

You hesitated, feeling lost all of a sudden because you weren't sure if you were ready for it yet. But a small part of you wanted to go with him, to let go of this life of destruction you'd managed to envelop yourself in.

Carlos hesitantly touched your hand that you had in your lap, fingertips against the palm of your hand and that one small touch was so electrifying that you filled your belly with air, holding your breath until it hurt your chest before exhaling.

"Charles has a girlfriend who I think you'd get along with well. She’s very much like you." He continued, sounding an awful lot like a salesman and it made you smile. “You’d love her, I think.”

You didn't know who Charles was, but the name rang a bell and you took a shot in the dark that it was his teammate.

"I probably would." You replied slowly and Carlos pinched eyebrows relaxed a tad bit when you finally broke your silence, like your silence had built some anxiety. "Can I think on it? I just —"

"Yes." He interrupted you, like he completely understood. "You don't have to explain yourself. I'll be around for two more days so you can take your time."

You thought about your brother, wondering if he knew what had spiralled that night before Carlos left to start his career. Did he have a hunch or did Carlos tell him? All you really knew was that your brother had flown out plenty of times to attend races, so you knew that they were still in contact, and by the looks of it, good friends. He’d invited you along the first few times, only stopping when your polite no’s had turned into snapping.

“What are you thinking about?” Carlos voice brought you out of your thoughts and you realised he’d been looking at your face the entire time, trying to read your thoughts when your eyebrows furrowed.

“Does he know?” You asked and Carlos looked confused for exactly two seconds before his eyebrows smoothed out, a humourless smile twitching his lip as he gazed out at the ocean in front of you.

He pulled up both legs, resting his forearms on his knees and clutching his hands together.

“Yes.” He said and your stomach dropped a little. “He came to a race in Miami a year ago and I felt… guilty. He was talking about how you should come to a race sometime and how concerned he was for you.”

Your eyebrows jumped. Your brother knew. How much did he know? He hadn’t even brought it up with you, not once.

“I told him.” He let out a laugh with no real joy behind it. “He punched me, called me a motherfucker and left.”

Your mouth gaped open as you took in the new information, eyebrows raised so high that you were scared they’d get stuck in your hairline but you couldn’t bring yourself to relax.

You had never really been that close to your brother, close enough to spend some time in the same circle of friends whenever it was called for but you weren’t sit down and talk about your feelings close. It shouldn’t have surprised you that he hadn’t reached out to you and spoke to you about how you’d fucked his best friend, but he hadn’t treated you any different the past year. He still called and texted to check on you, expressing his worry whenever you gave him the old I’m fine reply. Now you knew why he’d been so gentle with you.

“I deserved it.” Carlos said after a stretch of silence, looking at you.

It made you sad for him then, and a little ashamed of yourself that you’d never stopped to consider how Carlos had felt in all of this. You’d always thought that he ran because he couldn’t deal with turning you down gently, but looking at him now? He was clearly struggling as well.

“You didn’t.” You said and Carlos pulled a face like he didn’t believe you. “I’m just a little horrified that my brother knows I slept with his best friend.”

The both of you smiled at each other.

“It’s not his business, anyway.” Carlos said, leaning his weight to one side so he could bump his shoulder against yours. “Just you and me, ¿verdad?”

“Sí.” You smiled like the words he was saying didn’t turn your stomach inside out.

Carlos looked straight ahead, and you scooted closer to him with a shiver, still cold and wet. He didn’t even hesitate to put his arm around you when your sides pressed together, leaning your head against his shoulder and basking in his warmth when a breeze blew by.

Your stomach was doing somersaults, twisting with nerves and a sense of giddiness and you really hoped that he couldn’t hear the harsh pound of your heart against your rib cage when he turned his head to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Te amo, nena.” He whispered, faint and intimate but it still felt like he’d reached into your bones and rattled them with a violent shake.

Hearing the quiet love confession come from his mouth stunned you, hope blooming in your chest as you picked your head up to take a look at his face. He was close, so close, and the inviting pout of his lips made it all the more difficult to resist pressing your lips against them.

Carlos inhaled sharply through his nose when you grazed your lips against his, a whisper of a touch that electrified you to the core. The arm around you tightened, pressing you closer as your noses brushed.

“Kiss me.” You whispered and Carlos did exactly that.

The press of his lips made you warm all over, hands coming up to clutch his hoodie when he pried your lips open; the touch of tongues making you push harder. It felt a lot like coming home, like universe had aligned itself, and you basked in the feeling of it all.

“Nena.” Carlos murmured when the kiss reached its end, lips touching yours as he spoke. He pushed his forehead to yours, eyelashes laying so pretty on the tops of his cheeks as he closed his eyelids. “I want you, I’ve wanted you for years. But maybe we should take things slow.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t resist stealing another kiss that he was all too eager to respond to. A groan rumbled in his chest when you placed both hands on his wide shoulders, letting him guide you to lay down on the sand.

It wasn’t as dark as it had been when you first arrived, but the faint light cast an almost beautiful shadow to his face as he hovered above you. His eyes were dark pools, staring into yours while his hand brushed wet strands of hair from your face. He crooked them behind your ear, cupping your cheek to bring you up for another kiss that had you whimpering for more.

Take things slow. Wasn’t two years enough? How much longer were you supposed to wait?

Carlos must’ve shared that sentiment, trailing his lips down your jaw to your throat in sucking kisses. He licked your skin, tongue warm against your flesh as he tasted the saltwater and you squirmed at the touch.

“Need you, Carlos.” You murmured when he pulled away.

He laughed breathlessly like he couldn’t believe the words you were saying, a hand travelling down your body with his eyes fastened on yours. You didn’t even dare to blink, staring at him until his hand found its way into your shorts and underwear, brushing his finger against your clit. Your eyelids fluttered shut, mouth going slack when he swiped his fingers through the mess of wet, bringing them back to circle your clit.

You grabbed him with terse hands, gasping and moaning while he brought you to a quick climax. It was sudden and fast, absolutely earth shattering when you climbed up to the edge and toppled right over. Carlos silenced your moans with his mouth, not kissing, just slotted over yours as he stole your breath and sounds.

“You sound beautiful, nena.” He murmured, fingertip nudging your sensitive clit just to see the way your mouth dropped open in a shivered gasp. “Missed that look on your face.”

“Carlos.” Your voice sounded pleading, hand sliding to the back of his head to bury your fingers in his hair. “Want you right now. Please.”

He let out a shuddered breath, pulling his hand out of your shorts to unbutton his jeans and zip them down far enough to fish himself out. You struggled to not stare down between the two of you as you kicked your shorts and panties off, marvelling in the sounds he made as he spit in his hand and jacked himself off; slicking himself up generously.

There was a moment where you looked at each other, unblinking and silent. His cock slid against you, slicking himself up further before his head caught where you were clenching in anticipation. It was stupid and reckless, to not use protection and to even do it so publicly but you needed him.

You couldn’t wait for another hour, and neither could he, judging by the way he slid inside with a gasped breath. Your eyes clenched shut as the intrusion locked your body up, finding comfort in his hands as he brushed your face and pressed kisses to it. You relaxed, feeling the girth of him stretching you out the further he pushed inside.

It had been a while since someone had stretched you to your limits like he currently was, but you were eager to feel every inch of him and you made it clear by wrapping your arms around him, spreading your legs further like an invitation.

Carlos let out a breathless laugh, pushing his lips against yours in a loving kiss and you lost yourself in it as he began thrusting. He hit you deep, kissed your spot with the head of his cock and the coarse hair of his groin rubbed deliciously against your clit.

It wasn’t romantic, not something you’d see in movies, but it was intimate and perfect for you. He conveyed so much in the movement of his hips, eyes stuck on you like he didn’t dare to look away in fear of missing every twitch and movement of your face.

You got a hand between the two of you, moaning and gasping when your second orgasm crept up on you. It made your head spin, how fast you’d been brought to the edge yet again and you clenched around him, screaming out your climax. Carlos wasn’t far behind, all kinds of curses streaming from his lips as he pulled out and came on your lower abdomen.

The stark contrast of his warmth against your cool skin made you shiver, still struggling to come down from your high. Carlos let out a drawn out groan that screamed of sudden exhaustion, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the come off your skin before he dropped down; Half on top of you and half on the sand.

“Where are you staying?” You asked, voice a little raspy from how dry your throat was.

“My parents house.” He replied, eyes taking in the slope of your nose and the pout of your bitten raw lips.

You turned your head to smile at him, eyes fluttering as he pushed forward to kiss your mouth.

“You can stay with me.” Your voice was timid, a little shy and it made Carlos smile.

“Bueno.”

Carlos’ hand found your collarbone, stroking the pads of his fingers against the raised bone. His eyes caught on the glimmering necklace around your throat, heart stopping for a split second when the pendant caught the light and he realised what he was looking at.

The number 55 was staring up at him, so small but so glaringly obvious that he wondered how he’d failed to notice it.

You must’ve sensed his body language shift, eyes flicking over his face where it remained unmoving.

“I wanted to keep you close to my heart.” You whispered and it was like gospel to Carlos’ ears. “I never stopped loving you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, face softening even more.

“Neither did I.”

He thought of the years he’d lived through without you, thinking of the missed time and opportunity he could’ve had with you if he had just picked up the phone. But it didn’t matter now.

Carlos gazed at your face, at the stars reflected in your eyes, and made a vow to himself to never let you slip away again.