#i have finals and move out and shit.... and these last few chapters have a lot of moving parts so will take a lot of work

[wbbobsesserr]

ᯓ sweet spot — chapter five

pairing: paige bueckers & azzi fudd

notes: we’re finally back on track! everyone cheers. chapter six, aka a new chapter, should be expected soon. also please lemme know what you wanna see in future chapters, i’ve run out of ideas. love you.

my masterlist

wc: 4.6k

azzi and paige split after eating a quick breakfast together. the second she made it back to her own room, she face-planted onto her bed, groaning into the blanket.

she needed to debrief.


she needed to scream into the void.

instead, she grabbed her phone and thumbed open her text thread with nika, typing furiously:

paige: dude
paige: i think i’m actually in love
paige: like not in a cute haha kinda way
paige: like if she looked at me and said “let’s move to a cabin in the woods and raise goats” i would pack my shit TONIGHT
paige: if she said “hey will you marry me” i’d say yes so fast it would be embarrassing
paige: i don’t even care if it’s a ring pop. i don’t even care if she’s kidding. i’d be at the altar in three seconds flat
paige: is that insane
paige: i think it’s insane
paige: but like. she’s it. she’s actually it. i’m done for.

send.

paige sighed, a deep dramatic breath, and tossed her phone onto her bed like she was done thinking about it.

except.

something gnawed at her gut.

a bad feeling.

a really, really bad feeling.

she sat up, grabbed her phone again— and saw it.

azzi: uhhhhh 👀👀👀
azzi: so do i get to know who the lucky girl is or
azzi: bc tbh i kinda wanna hear more about this goat farm plan lmao

paige pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. of course she accidentally sent it to azzi— god had sick jokes.

“fuck my life.”

she wanted to run into incoming traffic. throw herself off a goddamn bridge.
cease to fucking exist.

instead she choked out a breathless reply:

paige: hahaha
paige: just a dumb thought
paige: ignore me pls

another buzz, almost instantly:

azzi: nooo i like it it’s cute lol
azzi: i hope whoever she is knows how lucky she is

paige flopped back against her bed.

“you are,” she shouted to her ceiling. “you’re the lucky one. it’s you.”

but her phone stayed silent in her hand. because some things— the biggest, scariest things— she still couldn’t say.

not yet.


maybe not ever.

paige stood at azzi’s door, her heart thumping against her ribs. she’d half-expected her to cancel at the last minute, or maybe send her a “never mind” text. but no— azzi had texted her earlier today, asking if she wanted to come over, just to hang out since noah wasn’t around. casual. chill. no big deal.

right.

so, here she was, standing in front of azzi’s door, feeling a little like a wreck. paige wasn’t good at casual when it came to azzi. she was mildly good at making everything seem chill, acting like it was nothing, but the truth was, she was about one glance away from combusting.

she knocked three times, quickly, the kind of knock that made it sound like she was overly eager, but then stepped back, trying to cross her arms and act like her heart wasn’t going a million miles per minute.

the door swung open and azzi stood there, in a simple sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. as always, she looked effortlessly cool, like she wasn’t trying, like she didn’t have the power to make paige’s heart go haywire simply by existing.

“hey,” azzi greeted her, a smile already pulling at her lips. “i’m so glad you came over.”

paige swallowed, forcing a calm smile. “of course,” she said, voice just a little too high-pitched for her liking. “anytime. literally.”

azzi stepped aside to let her in, and the scent of vanilla hit paige as she walked through the door. azzi’s room had this cozy, lived-in feel— books piled on a desk, a few stray clothes draped over a chair, a couple of photos of her teammates on the wall. it was warm, inviting, and paige had to remind herself that this was just a hangout. just two people chilling. no big deal.

“want something to drink?” azzi asked, already heading over to her mini-fridge.

“um, i’m good,” paige replied, but she was already looking around the room, trying to seem like she wasn’t sweating bullets. “thanks, though.”

azzi looked over her shoulder, her eyes soft.

after that, they both just sort of hovered there for a second, like neither one of them quite knew what to do next. it was too quiet. and paige had to get out of her head before she made it worse.

“actually,” paige spoke up, her voice coming out a little faster than she intended, “i was thinking maybe we could go out for ice cream or something? just to— y'know, get outta here for a bit.”

azzi blinked, tilting her head. “ice cream?”

“yeah,” paige rushed to explain, her face flushing a little. “just, you know. i could go for some mint chip and... just hang out. only if you’re down.”

azzi laughed lightly, that soft sound that always seemed to make paige’s chest tighten. “i like that idea. let me grab my jacket.”

azzi disappeared for a second, and paige took the opportunity to steady her breathing. what is wrong with me, she thought, pacing just a little bit in her mind. this was nothing new— she and azzi had hung out plenty of times before, but today... today felt different. she couldn’t tell if it was because of her dumb text from last night (which, by the way, she was still embarrassed about), or if it was the way azzi had smiled at her today, or the fact that they were going out just the two of them.

azzi returned, looking effortlessly cute in a jacket that fit her perfectly, her sneakers clicking softly against the floor as she walked. “ready?” she asked, eyes lighting up with that excitement that paige loved so much.

they walked outside, and paige kept her pace slow, trying to match azzi’s, but she couldn’t help the way her heart picked up when azzi casually looped her arm through paige’s. it wasn’t flirtatious, wasn’t suggestive— it was just azzi being azzi: comfortable, sweet. but for paige, it felt like everything. every step was too much, and not enough at the same time.

“good thing the ice cream place is so close,” azzi said, looking at paige with that soft smile again. “i’m starving.”

“same,” paige muttered, her voice a little too tight. she cleared her throat. “i’m really— really glad you asked me to hang.”

azzi glanced over, catching paige’s gaze, and smiled. “i’m glad i asked you too,” she agreed, “really glad.”

paige could feel herself blushing, her heart thumping louder. she forced herself to look straight ahead instead of at azzi, and just tried to focus on the fact that they were walking side by side, and that, for now, was enough.

when they reached the ice cream shop, it was small and cozy, and there was a short line. paige stayed close, still feeling the weight of azzi’s arm looped through hers, even though they weren’t holding hands or anything. it felt natural, but paige couldn’t ignore how it made her feel— like she was a little closer to azzi than she had ever been before.

azzi ordered first, mentioning how she was in the mood for something with chocolate, and paige quickly followed suit, pointing to a flavor she’d been craving all day— mint chocolate chip, her all time favorite.

when it came time to pay, azzi barely had the opportunity to move before paige stopped her, placing her hand on azzi’s arm. “i’ve got it,” she said quickly, not giving azzi a chance to protest.

azzi raised an eyebrow, the smallest smirk playing at her lips. “paige, really, it’s fine.”

“azzi. i asked to come here, i’m paying,” paige insisted, digging into her wallet and pulling out her credit card.

she handed it over before azzi could argue, because, well, this was just how paige worked— stubborn, determined, and maybe a little bit nervous.

azzi smiled softly, like she wasn’t sure what to say, and paige pretended she wasn’t completely melting at the sight.

“thanks,” azzi said, her voice gentle. “you didn’t have to, but i appreciate it.”

they found a bench nearby, sitting side by side and just... being there. paige scooped the mint flavor, trying not to make it look like she was overthinking every little thing.

azzi was quiet too, enjoying her ice cream, and for a while, there was nothing but the sound of their footsteps, the evening air, and the quiet conversation that filled in the gaps.

“i’m really glad we’re doing this,” azzi said again, taking another scoop in her mouth. “it’s nice to just relax. no expectations.”

“yeah,” paige agreed, glancing sideways at azzi. she really meant it. “it’s been a weird few weeks, but today’s been good.”

azzi nodded, looking over at her for a moment before speaking again. “yeah. i always like hanging out with you. you’re really fun.”

that made paige’s stomach flip in the best (and worst) way. “i’m glad,” she repeated softly, her eyes trailing to the ground for a second before meeting azzi’s gaze. “it’s easy to talk to you.”

azzi grinned, eyes twinkling, as if she hadn’t even realized the weight of what she said. “i'm happy you feel that way, too.”

they both sat in silence for a moment, eating their ice cream, neither one of them saying what they really wanted to say. but for now, this was enough.

the next day, the team met for dinner in the dining hall after wrapping up their classes. paige showed up late, hoodie pulled up over her messy blonde hair, headphones on and music blasting. the noise of the dining hall wasn’t quite as loud as usual, but there was a buzz in the air— people talking, laughing, the usual chatter. paige made her way through the crowded tables and spotted an empty seat next to caroline, sliding in with a sigh of relief.

but azzi wasn’t there.

that was weird. azzi was always on time. always present.

paige’s eyes darted around the table, scanning for any sign of her. nothing. just caroline and nika, both eating like everything was normal.

“where’s azzi?” paige asked, tugging off her headphones and letting them rest around her neck.

caroline shrugged, not looking up from her food. “no idea. she left early after practice.”

paige’s stomach twisted, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. the last time she’d seen azzi was... well, earlier that day, when they’d hung out. everything had seemed fine, but now she wasn’t even at dinner?

“maybe with noah?” nika suggested, glancing up from her phone.

paige’s throat tightened at the mention of noah, azzi’s long-distance boyfriend. she texted azzi quickly, not even thinking about it.

paige: u okay?

no answer.

she stared at her phone for a few seconds, then texted again.

paige: saw u weren’t at dinner. just checking in.

still nothing.

that feeling in her stomach was only getting worse.

paige glanced over at caroline and nika, both of them talking about some random thing, clearly not noticing the shift in her. she pushed her tray away from her, stood up abruptly, and grabbed her phone again.

“hey, i’ll be back,” she said, her voice just a little too sharp, making the girls look up. “i think i’ll go check on azzi.”

without waiting for a response, she left, pushing through the doors and into the cool evening air. the walk to azzi’s dorm was a blur, her thoughts a mess of confusion and nerves. was everything okay? why wasn’t azzi at dinner? why was she ignoring her texts? did she do something wrong?

when she finally reached the dorm, she was out of breath from the jog, but she didn’t stop. she didn’t even think to knock. she just tried the door handle.

locked.

paige’s heart dropped, a tight knot forming in her chest. she knocked softly at first. no answer. her hand was shaking, but she knocked again, louder this time, her heart thudding in her chest like it was trying to escape.

there was a pause. then, the door cracked open just an inch. azzi’s red-rimmed eyes met hers, and paige’s heart did a little flip.

“azzi,” paige breathed, her voice softer than she meant it to be. “what happened?”

azzi didn’t answer immediately. she just stepped back, opening the door wider, letting paige in without a word.

paige stepped inside and stopped in her tracks.

the room was dim, lit only by the small desk lamp in the corner. tissues were scattered across her desk. azzi moved to sit on the edge of her bed, crossing her legs, her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands like she was trying to hide from the world. her eyes were puffy, red, tears still clinging to her lashes.

“noah cheated,” azzi’s voice was barely a whisper, but it felt like a punch to paige’s gut. “he said it happened once. a party. someone he barely knew. it just— he just said it like it didn’t matter.”

paige froze, not quite sure if she’d heard her right. “what?”

azzi swallowed hard, her lips trembling as she tried to hold it together. “he said it didn’t mean anything. that it was a mistake.”

paige stood there, frozen. her heart was pounding, but she didn’t know what to say. she took a step forward, slow, careful, like azzi might break if she moved too quickly. paige blinked once, stunned— and then the emotion hit her hard and fast. anger. sharp and hot in her chest.

“what a fucking bitch,” she muttered under her breath, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

azzi looked up at her, startled, a tiny breath of something that almost sounded like a laugh catching in her throat.

paige’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “seriously. who the hell does he think he is? you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve any of it.”

azzi ducked her head, a few fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks, but there was a tiny, almost invisible smile too. like she wasn’t used to someone getting mad for her.

paige took a shaky breath, forcing herself to calm down. she softened again, reaching out carefully, her hand resting gently on azzi’s knee.

“i’m so sorry,” paige said, quieter this time. her voice still shook with the weight of how much she meant it.

they sat in silence a while after that. azzi was staring at the wall, her eyes unfocused. it was a heavy kind of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward; more painful than anything.

“all i said was ‘thanks for telling me,’“ azzi laughed, but it came out weak. “i’m so stupid,” her voice cracking slightly as she looked at the ground.

paige sat next to her, not too close but just enough to show she was there. she reached over, her hand resting gently on azzi’s knee. azzi’s gaze flickered down to her hand, and paige’s heart raced, the weight of the touch pressing into her chest.

“you’re not stupid,” paige insisted, her voice soft but firm. “he’s the one who messed up, not you.”

azzi exhaled shakily. “i thought we were solid. kinda. even with the distance.”

“you were,” paige said, her eyes meeting azzi’s. “he wasn’t.”

there was another long pause. azzi looked so small in that moment, curled up in on herself like she didn’t know how to piece things back together. paige wanted to say more, wanted to make everything better, but she didn’t know how.

she just stayed silent, letting her hand linger on azzi’s knee, offering what little comfort she could.

after what felt like an eternity, azzi let out a shaky breath and leaned into paige, just a little, like the exhaustion was finally catching up to her. paige didn’t pull away. she didn’t speak.

she just stayed.

and when azzi’s head rested against her shoulder, paige felt her heart break a little more. not from pity, not from sympathy. but because she could feel it. the weight of everything unspoken between them. the distance between their worlds.

but for now, it was just the two of them in the dim room, with nothing but silence and a shared, unspoken connection.

the silence stretched on, heavy but comforting. azzi’s head was still resting on paige’s shoulder, her breathing evening out as the quiet of the room settled around them. it wasn’t awkward, not at all, but it felt like the weight of everything between them was a little too much to say out loud.

after a while, azzi shifted, sitting up just slightly, her eyes still glossy and tired. she sniffled a little, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

paige, her heart still aching for her, didn’t move, just kept her gaze steady on azzi. “you okay?”

“yeah.” azzi’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “tired. not just from everything, but just... i don’t know. everything’s just too much right now.”

paige nodded, understanding. she felt it, too. the pressure of everything that wasn’t said, of everything that was left unsaid between them.

there was a beat of silence before azzi looked at her with those big eyes, still a little red but softer now. her lips parted as if she were gathering the courage to say something. “hey, um. would it be weird if you stayed the night?”

paige blinked, taken aback. she wasn’t sure what azzi meant by it, but she didn’t hesitate for a second.

“you want me to stay?” paige asked, her voice a little tentative, even though her heart was already thudding in her chest.

azzi gave a small, sad smile, her fingers twisting nervously in her hoodie sleeves. “yeah. i... i don’t want to be alone tonight.”

paige’s chest tightened. she didn’t want azzi to be alone either.

“of course,” paige said, her voice gentle and sincere. “i’d love that.”

there was a moment where azzi’s eyes softened with relief, her shoulders relaxing. she gave paige a small, almost shy smile. “thanks.”

“no problem.” paige shifted on the bed, adjusting so she could face azzi more comfortably.

she kicked off her sneakers, leaving them by the door, and slipped under the covers. she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to stay on the edge of the bed or... what. but azzi didn’t make it awkward. she just curled up a little tighter, and paige did the same.

the room was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the fan above them and the occasional sound of their breathing. paige wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, just existing together in the same space. it was peaceful, but the quiet was different than usual. now, it felt more intimate somehow. like a slow, careful dance of two people who were both a little afraid of stepping on each other’s toes.

the hours drifted by, and eventually, paige started to feel the weight of sleep pulling at her. her body relaxed into the bed, her muscles loosening the tension of the day. but just as her eyelids started to flutter closed, she felt something. a soft touch against her side— azzi’s hand, lightly brushing against hers.

paige’s heart jumped, and her breath caught in her throat. she wasn’t sure if azzi even meant to do it, but the brush of skin sent a wave of warmth through her chest. she didn’t move, didn’t pull away. she simply let it happen.

the quiet was different now. heavier, but not in a bad way. charged. and before she could stop herself, paige slowly moved her hand, just barely, until their fingers brushed once more.

it felt like a spark. small, but intense.

azzi didn’t pull away. in fact, she seemed to relax into the touch. the warmth of her hand against paige’s felt grounding. natural.

paige’s heart beat a little faster, but she tried to stay still, tried not to overthink it. azzi was hurting, and paige just wanted to be there. to be whatever she needed.

then, just as the night settled deeper, there was another soft shift. this time, azzi’s hand moved, her fingers curling slightly as if asking for more. paige hesitated for a moment, but then she intertwined her fingers with hers, just gently. like it was the easiest thing in the world.

but god, was she nervous.

“you’re warm,” azzi whispered, her voice tired but steady.

paige scrunched her lips, trying to act as calm and collected as possible. “yeah, um— it’s kinda hot in here. that’s all.”

it was nearly winter. in connecticut.

azzi hummed, and instead of teasing paige further, she squeezed paige’s hand just a little tighter. the touch was quiet, sweet, and in that moment, paige realized she didn’t have to say everything. not right now. not yet.

still, she let herself shift a little closer, closing the small space between them under the covers. azzi didn’t move away— if anything, she seemed to breathe a little easier.

the room was cool, the fan humming low above them. the atmosphere around them was one paige never wanted to leave. a different kind of comfort. one that made her chest ache in a way she didn’t have words for.

her free hand drifted up almost without thinking, fingertips finding the soft curls at the nape of azzi’s neck. she twisted a strand gently around her finger, slow and absent, like she was afraid to startle her.

for a long moment, paige just watched her. the soft curve of her cheek, the way her lashes rested against her eyelids, the steady, even rise and fall of her breathing.

then, in the quietest voice, paige whispered, “i just... i wish you knew how easy you are to love.”

for a second, she thought azzi was already asleep. but then she felt it— the faintest squeeze of her hand, a tiny shift closer under the blankets. not much, but enough to make paige’s heart catch in her throat.

the words hung between them, soft and fragile, but somehow safe here in the dark.

paige smiled to herself, barely, and let her thumb brush lightly over azzi’s knuckles. she stayed like that, twirling a loose curl around her finger, feeling the warmth of azzi’s hand in hers, until sleep finally pulled her under too.

practice wasn’t even over yet, but paige already knew she was doomed.

azzi was across the gym, stretching her quad on the sideline, her practice jersey clinging to her like it was designed specifically to make paige lose her mind. her head was tilted slightly to the side, her curly bun nearly coming loose, a small smile that lit up her face as she chatted with aubrey about who knows what. and god, paige couldn’t stop staring.

“you’re not even being subtle anymore,” caroline muttered beside her, arms crossed, leaning against the bleachers.

paige snapped her gaze away from azzi and tried to act normal, like she wasn’t internally combusting every time azzi moved. “i’m subtle,” she lied, but even she could hear the hesitation in her own voice.

“you’re obsessed,” caroline stated flatly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. she didn’t even look at paige when she said it, just kept her eyes trained on the court.

paige didn’t respond. because, yeah, maybe she was. especially lately. and especially after that night at azzi’s dorm. she’d been trying to play it cool, keep some distance, but the way azzi’s smile made her chest tighten, the way she looked at paige like she mattered— well, that made it impossible.

after noah left, things had shifted between them, but not in some big, dramatic way. not enough for anyone to notice, not enough for anyone to call it out. but it was there, every little moment that passed between them. it was in the way azzi laughed at her jokes, the way she casually touched her arm like it was nothing, the way she always seemed to look for paige in a room full of people. and god— paige wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.

they were back in the locker room after practice, the buzz of conversation fading into the background. azzi was stretched out beside paige on the bench, her legs draped casually across paige’s lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. paige was trying her hardest not to hyperventilate. but how could she? azzi, being this close to her, her skin still warm from practice, the scent of her shampoo making paige’s head spin— yeah, she was definitely about to hyperventilate.

“you looked good today,” azzi said, voice soft, her focus still on her phone as her fingers tapped lazily over the screen.

paige blinked, caught off guard. “what?”

“on the court,” azzi finished, finally glancing over at paige with that small, private smile that made paige’s heart stutter. “your passing was sharp. you see the floor really well.”

paige couldn’t help it— she just stared at her. “you notice that stuff?”

azz shook her head slightly, a teasing glint in her eye. “i notice you.”

paige’s brain short-circuited. she didn’t even know how to respond to that. she just sat there, trying to stay composed but failing miserably. “you gotta stop saying shit like that,” she managed, her voice a little too high-pitched for her liking.

“why?” azzi tilted her head like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“because,” paige said, her face heating up, “i’m already obsessed with you.”

it was like the room went still, the air thickening with every word. the silence that followed was so heavy, paige could’ve sworn she could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

shit. did she really just say that out loud?

azzi’s brows lifted, eyes wide, and paige felt the world shift beneath her feet. “wait, i— i didn’t mean it like that, not like— okay, i did, but not in a creepy way, it’s just i— fuck—” paige’s brain was spinning, and the words were tripping over each other before she could even try to make sense of them.

then, azzi laughed. softly, breathily, but it was like the sweetest sound paige had ever heard, her chest tightening with the realization that it wasn’t awkward. at all. “you’re cute,” azzi said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. there was no teasing, no judgment— just that quiet, sweet smile.

paige turned so red she could feel the heat on her neck, on her ears, everywhere. she covered her face with her hands, making her best attempt to hide.

“stop,” paige mumbled into her hands, her voice muffled.

azz laughed again, this time with a little more amusement in her tone. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you embarrassed.”

paige snapped her head up, her eyes widening. “what— no! i���m not embarrassed.”

the quiet that followed, mixed with the closeness of azzi beside her, made her feel like her heart might actually explode. and want to die. definitely die.

azzi just smiled at her, small and knowing, like she could see straight through all the panic and nerves and was choosing to be gentle with them anyway.

paige stared at her for a second longer, her mind still scrambled, and then, without thinking, she nudged azzi’s shoulder lightly with her own.

“you’re annoying,” she muttered, mostly to cover up how much she meant all of it. azzi just giggled in return, soft and airy, and nudged her right back.

they sat there like that— shoulders brushing, smiles tugging at their mouths, the silence between them not heavy anymore, but light. easy. like maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something neither of them knew how to name yet.

paige felt herself breathe a little easier.
for once, she didn’t feel like she had to run from it.

© wbbobsesserr

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance (vi)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER VI: The Lake

SUMMARY: Azriel is finally helping Y/n rebel -- in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: SMUT; oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), shadowplay (iykyk), teasing, overstimulation, pet names (princess, good girl, sweetheart), vanilla choking

NOTE: heyyy... hi... ITS BEEN SO LONG IM SORRY. worst year of my LIFE. had 2 sorry excuses for partners, started uni and then dropped out of uni because i hated my course, got kicked out of home, work a shit job, got offered a promotion at said shit job and then had it snatched away from me. however now i have the bestest boyfriend in the entire world and i love him so much. anyways, sorry the chapter's so fast paced i wanted them to fuck already lol

WORDS: 3K

You sat beside Azriel on your couch, book open in your lap, but you couldn’t concentrate on the words.

You wanted out. Out of this castle, out of the prying eyes of your court and father. It had been two weeks since your last outing, and with how Azriel had been acting around you, you were almost positive he’d create some sort of distraction for you. Perhaps he’d even join you.

“Azriel,” you hummed softly, eyes on the shadowsinger.

He looked up from his book, eyes locking with yours. There was such an intensity behind his gaze, an intensity that shook you to your core. Such pretty hazel eyes, a captivating blend of warm honey hues and deep caramels, swirling together like a mesmerising storm.

“Yes, Princess?” Azriel replied.

You mentally shook yourself. You hadn’t meant to fall for the shadowsinger – just flirt with him here and there, just enough to maybe piss him off and have your father get rid of him so you could enjoy your freedom. But he’d taken the flirting like a champ, and you’d just tried harder and harder to crack open his shell, only to find that you adored what was inside.

You looked at Azriel with pleading eyes. “Come to the lake with me?”

You saw Azriel fight the urge to roll his eyes, instead turning back to his book. You ripped it from his grasp and his eyes widened as you grabbed onto his wrists and leaned closer.

“Please,” you begged. “You are my only friend in this castle besides my brother, surely you understand my need to escape, if only for a few hours.”

Azriel watched you carefully, those eyes guarded, and you mentally prepared yourself to be shut down again, and have to go out at night, by yourself–

“How would we distract the guards?” Azriel mused, taking you by slight surprise. “I’m pretty sure they’d notice if we went missing.”

“I can create a glamour,” you offered once you got over your slight shock.

Azriel nodded, and gestured for you to proceed. You closed your eyes and allowed the magic to come to the surface, and before you knew it, you stood by the window, and Azriel sat at the desk. Neither of them moved, seemingly frozen in time, but their scents and presence was real enough.

“Wow,” the real Azriel said softly, looking over the two glamours. “That is impressive.”

You felt the blood run to your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Where to now?” Azriel asked.

You cocked your head, mentally running through each of your favourite places. You landed on a place Eris had shown you a long, long time ago, and you held out your hand for Azriel’s. He took your hand instantly, and something about the ease in which he did so made your heart flutter.

Concentrating, you allowed the world to fold around you, and your magic took you to where you wished to be. The world shifted and merged, and then you stood before a small lake, the water reflecting the scarlet and amber leaves of the canopy of trees above. Azriel sucked in a breath and you turned to face him, awaiting his reaction.

“It’s… beautiful,” he murmured, eyes bright and drinking in every detail.

You hummed in agreement, the view still taking your breath away. You rarely got to visit this place — Eris tended to be too busy to take you, and no one else would allow you to leave the castle. You truly loved this place — it was far enough from the scheming court that you could actually breathe.

“Do you come here often?” Azriel inquired.

You shrugged softly. “Not so much any more. When I was little, and actually allowed out of the castle, Eris used to bring me here. There were always guards following, and it was so overbearing, but…” You paused to glance at the shadowsinger, his eyes already on you. You felt heat warm your cheeks as you continued, “It’s nice to be here with you. Your presence is… calming. Welcoming.”

Azriel smiled softly, and dipped his head. “I’m honoured you feel that way.”

You smiled back but refused to let your thoughts wander, especially as those gorgeous hazel eyes bored into yours. You cleared your throat, thinking of anything that  would get him to stop looking at you like that. Because if he didn’t, you weren’t sure if you could control yourself.

Because over these past few weeks… Azriel had opened up to you. You knew him now, as a person, and you were afraid to admit that it was something more than friendship you felt for the shadowsinger.

You turned to the lake and before you could overthink it, you began to unbutton your tunic. Azriel’s sharp intake of breath almost made your fingers fumble, but you miraculously continued.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice slightly strained.

You pulled your tunic off, your undergarments doing nothing to protect you from the cool chill. Half a thought had fire beneath your skin, keeping you warm. “I’m going for a swim.”

“It’s freezing,” Azriel protested.

You offered him a sly grin. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Azriel frowned slightly, but sighed and removed his shirt. He was the most glorious male you’d ever seen, but his half-naked body made him more so. You had to distract yourself by untying your boots to stop from simply launching yourself at him, but by doing so, you turned your back to him.

Azriel’s next words were strangled. “What is that?”

You turned back to face him, eyes following his gaze to whatever he had found. But he was looking at you with wide eyes as he clenched and unclenched his scarred fists, the scars so similar to what marred your back.

“Scars,” you whispered.

Azriel’s eyes hardened, and he walked over to you. Despite the ferocity in his eyes, his touch was gentle as he turned you around, and peered at the marks along your spine. He said nothing, just shook with rage…

“My father,” you explained, “used to hurt me the same way he hurts my mother. No one could stop him from it. He liked to… to stop them from healing, so I can feel the pain and reflect on what I have done.”

Azriel still said nothing, so you pivoted to face him. His eyes glittered with cold, dark rage — rage at your father and his actions. Something in his gaze made your heart swell, a warmth that rivalled the sudden fire crackling in your stomach. Here was someone who understood, someone who wouldn't judge you for the cruelty you'd endured.

"Let's go for a swim," Azriel growled, his voice low and dangerous.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips despite the ache in your heart. Maybe this swim wouldn't just be a physical escape. Maybe, with Azriel by your side, it would be a chance to wash away some of the emotional scars as well.

Azriel began unbuttoning his belt, and by the Cauldron, you’d made a mistake. Having him undress himself in front of you…

No. You couldn’t think about that. You finished removing your clothes, leaving only your undergarments, before walking straight into the lake. The water was cold against your skin, but your magic quickly warmed the pool, as if it were the end of spring and not autumn. You heard Azriel follow behind, the water splashing softly, and you tried not to imagine how the water lapped against his body.

You leaned back, allowing the lake to keep you afloat as you stared up and into the canopy of ruby and gold. It was like being inside a jewellery box – so gorgeous, so rich, but kept away from everyone and everything else. It was suffocating, being in the Autumn Court.

“Tell me about Velaris,” you murmured, turning to face Azriel.

He tread water close to you, and his brows lifted in amusement. “I have already told you everything about Velaris thrice now.”

 “I wish to know more,” you hummed. “I want to know more.”

Azriel sighed, but not from annoyance. “The City of Starlight is… there aren’t words to describe it. Nurturing, peaceful, full of life… home.”

Home. The way he had described it to you every time you asked… that was exactly what it sounded like. You wished you had been born there, instead of in this wretched court. 

The water was clear beneath you, clear enough that you could see every gorgeous part of his body. The muscled abdomen, the strong arms… it was enough to make your core throb.

Stop that, you chided yourself.

A shadow darted across the water towards you, and you lifted a hand to greet it. It danced around your hand, weaving its way through your fingers. It was content in its actions, as if there was no place it would rather be. Azriel’s gaze stayed on the shadow, his brows furrowed in thought.

The two of you swam lazily for a long time, simply enjoying each other's company. It was… freeing and calm, being with Azriel. He made everything feel right.

After drying yourselves off and reluctantly putting your clothes back on, you grabbed onto Azriel and winnowed him back to your room. The glamours were still present, but faded with a simple wave of your hand. You turned to face Azriel, only to see him watching you intently. Gods, you wished he hadn’t put his shirt on, wished you could run your hands all over his body…

Azriel’s nose flared and his eyes widened at the scent you’d put off. He looked as if he’d take a step back, and you would respect that, even if it crushed your heart, but a shadow appeared at his ear, whispering its secrets. 

You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly your lips met in a heated, rushed kiss. You wound your hands into his hair as he gripped your hips and pulled you against him. You sucked on his bottom lip and pulled, grinning into the kiss. The next second you were on your couch, Azriel hovering above you, his lips never leaving yours.

He tasted perfect, just like you dreamed he would. His hands traced up and down your sides, never going too far. Your hands roamed over his broad chest, nails scraping over clothing that you desperately needed to get rid of. You tugged at the hem of his shirt and he pulled away, breathing heavily.

“We — we shouldn’t be doing this,” he gasped.

You paused, looking up at him. “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“I want it too,” you hummed. “So with two consenting parties, I’m pretty sure we can do what we please.”

Azriel’s mouth quirked upwards slightly, but he withdrew slightly and said, “If… if your father finds out that you’ve been… that I… sullied you–”

“It’s already happened,” you stated calmly. “He doesn’t know, and he never will.” You took a breath. “But I’m not going to force you into this if it’s not something that you truly want–”

“I do,” Azriel cut in quickly. “I just… I want to make sure that we both understand the… consequences.”

You let out another breath, this one somewhat tinged with relief. And something was swelling in your chest at the fact that he didn’t just want to fuck you, but to make sure you were safe as well…

You leaned forward and kissed him softly, gently. He made a noise that made your core turn molten, and his hand grabbed your thigh, hoisting it around his hips. He began to slowly, torturously, grind his hips against yours, barely allowing any friction between the two of you. You let out a small whine, bucking your hips, and Azriel let out a low laugh.

“Someone’s desperate,” he purred, nipping at the spot where your neck met your collarbone.

In response, you bucked your hips again, letting him know where you wanted him, and you wanted him there now. Another chuckle left the shadowsinger’s lips as he continued to suck and bite at your throat, and then slowly made his way down your collarbones. Your shirt was off and discarded within seconds, your bra shortly after.

Azriel’s hands tauntingly grazed the undersides of your breasts as he kissed you again, his tongue making exploring strokes within your mouth. Mother above, you wanted him to touch you, not tease you–

As if he’d heard your thoughts, his left hand cupped your breast, his fingers circling the nipple. A noise came out of you, so full of wanting that Azriel shuddered, but continued his task. His hand kneaded while fingers inched closer and closer to that peaked nipple. As if he couldn’t wait any longer, Azriel tore his mouth from yours and replaced that circling finger with his tongue. Your body arched, needing to feel him against you… but was shoved back down by a scarred hand against your stomach, just as he sucked on that nipple. A soft moan left your lips at the sensation, your hands finding his hair and his muscled shoulder. Your core throbbed in answer, and all you wanted was for him to be inside you…

“Azriel,” you gasped. “Please.”

Azriel hummed around your breast, eyes flicking to yours. You could tell by the smirk in his eyes that he was enjoying himself, and thoroughly.

“Please,” you begged, just wanting him between your legs.

Azriel removed his mouth from your chest, and shadows skittered in his wake, replacing where his lips had been. The stimulation of his shadows felt just as good as his mouth and tongue, and Azriel shifted downwards, planting himself between your legs. Your pants were too tight, and you needed them off right now. Azriel understood and pulled them right off in one fluid motion, attaching his lips to your inner thigh. No matter how much you shifted your hips, his lips never left your legs, just leaving dark marks so tauntingly close to where you wanted him.

“Azriel,” you pleaded as he hovered over your core, before switching to the other thigh. “No.”

Azriel smirked up at you. “Where do you want me, princess?”

You couldn’t form words, couldn’t tell him as his breath fanned over that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs. You managed a small whine, which had Azriel chuckling again, eyes trained on you as if he were a predator, and you were his prey.

“Please,” you begged again. “Please, Azriel.”

Azriel grinned, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

The first stroke of Azriel’s tongue had flames scorching through your veins. He licked a long, clean stripe up your centre, before sucking on your clit. You threw your head back in pleasure, eyes rolling back as he continued to feast on you like a man starved. Azriel slowly slid a finger inside you as he devoured you, making you both groan.

“Fuck, princess,” he growled lowly, adding a second finger. “You feel so fucking good around my fingers. Imagine how you’ll feel around my cock.”

After those words, it took an embarrassingly short amount of time for you to reach your climax, and when you did, you could have sworn the shadows around you shuddered in answer.

Azriel pressed a soft kiss to your clit, smirking as your legs twitched from the sensitivity, before hauling you into his arms and carrying you to your bed. He lay you down gently before reaching for his pants. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he undid the buttons, and took his pants off in one swift movement. You reached out, your hand meeting his rock hard cock through his boxers. Azriel let out a soft groan as you stroked the enormous length of him, your mouth watering at the feeling.

“Are you – are you sure you want to?” Azriel got out, his eyes glazed over with lust.

You nod your head, your fingers already tugging at the waistline of his undershorts. They were off seconds later, and he was lining himself up at your entrance.

“You tell me if it hurts, okay?” he said, before thrusting in slowly.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. He was huge – your walls clenched around him as he slowly sank deeper and deeper into you. As soon as he was in to the hilt, he leaned down and kissed you, soft and slow. 

You liked this gentle side of Azriel, but it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about these past few weeks. You wanted more – you wanted him to fuck you hard and fast – so you captured his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked. He groaned softly, pulling out all the way to the tip before thrusting back in again. You let out a gasp and he did it again, getting faster and faster.

“Fuck, Azriel,” you moaned, eyes fluttering closed as you threw your head back onto the pillows.

His movements stopped, and his hand wrapped around your throat as he growled, “None of that. I want you to look at me as I fuck you.”

Your eyes opened immediately, locking with his. Azriel’s other hand gripped your hip tightly, and a small smile grew on his face as you looked at him. He began to roll his hips again, as he purred, “Good girl.”

An embarrassing noise made its way out of your mouth at the praise, but Azriel swallowed it with his lips. The shadows still teased away at your breasts, and you felt yourself coming closer to your second climax.

“Azriel,” you begged as he thrusted in and out of you, getting faster and faster, the hand around your neck adding the perfect amount of pressure to elevate your pleasure..

“I know, sweetheart,” he groaned, hips slapping against yours. “You can come for me, princess. Come for me, Y/n.”

Your name on his lips tipped you over the edge and you cried out his name. He came tumbling after you a moment later, and his hips slowed to a stop. The two of you were breathing heavily, Azriel still hovering above you. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before sliding out of you.

He hesitated as he kneeled before you, and you gestured to the bed. He smiled softly, laying down beside you and pulling you close, your bodies pressed flush against each other.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

You drifted away quickly, safe and sound in Azriel’s arms.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin @morganisheree @sleepylunarwolf @bakananya @bookishbroadwaybish @namelesssaviour @glitterypirateduck @sfhsgrad-blog @ash-mc @feyres-fireheart @ib525 @azrielswhore @copenhagenspirit @eternallyelvish @teenagellamaangel @thisiskaylin @littleladdty @dnfhascorruptedme @taylorgriffin @fightmedraco @superspideyparker @talesofadragon @enfppuff @darling006

[prophecyofgray]

5 more chapters to edit in my nerd ass book do we think i can finish draft 2 by the end of the month

[3amfanfiction]

Our Girlfriend pt 2

The morning after.

You can thank @disasterofastory for this piece about the morning after you had four men in your bed. Considering you'd never spoken to two of them, how is this going to go? 1.5k little ficlet of a scene. A little bit of fluffy sweetness to even out the pure smut of the first chapter.

Part one

The bed was almost empty by the time you woke up, only you and Johnny remaining. You were curled up to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart as your eyes peeled open, sticky with sleep.

You didn't move at first, just laid there content to breathe in the still morning air where nothing needed to be done. There were no deadlines to meet, no chores to complete . . . it was just you, existing.

You watched as the thick chest under your cheek raised up as he drew in the breath to speak. Your quiet morning was about to be disturbed. You held onto the few split seconds you had remaining, locking onto this peace to get you through your day.

"You awake, love?"

Because real life always came knocking.

You hummed an assent, not interested in trying to force your tongue into shapes that would make words. You felt wonderfully wrung out, with only the things occurring right this moment needing thought. There wasn't any stress about yesterday or any worry about tomorrow.

Johnny stroked along your back gently with calloused fingers, a slight tickling scratch to go along with the warm caress. It roused you enough to turn and press a kiss to the warm skin you were laying on, a non-verbal 'good morning' in place of any proper greeting.

Johnny pressed a return kiss to the crown of your head, never ceasing the running of his palm over your back. You really did love him. You knew it was fast, that people say there was no way it would last because of how quickly you two fell together but you ignored them. Johnny was something special and you were thankful he was in your life.

The sun had shifted slightly when he spoke again. "How do you feel this morning?"

As a matter of fact . . .

"Johnny." Firm. You know he'll try and wiggle his way out of an answer if he catches any hint of weakness. "What was that last night?"

He didn't respond at first. After a moment you tilted your head up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, a serene look on his face with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"It was nice, wasn't it? I can't believe I decided to take a nap right in the middle of it though. Don't worry, love, I'll be making it up to you." He was coming to life with every word spoken. His face more animated, fingers starting to twitch and legs rubbing together. You knew you only had a few more minutes in bed before he would be up and gone—ready to start another day.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did they all talk like we were dating? What have you been telling them?"

"Nothing that wasn't true, I promise." He turned to look beseechingly into your eyes, ensuring you saw the truth in what he was saying. "I told them about you, of course. How amazing you were—always looking out for me, being so understanding, not taking any of my shite." He grinned at the last one, ever amused by your backbone, "and they fell in love with you, just like I did. And then you went and showed me that you loved them back and I couldn't let it go. I had to bring the four of you together."

Immediately you clocked what he meant. "Johnny MacTavish, those muffins weren't—they didn't mean—" How could you even begin to explain away this misunderstanding? Especially after what happened last night? You didn't get any further before the bedroom door opened.

"Good morning, sleeping beauties," Kyle beamed as he walked in holding two coffee cups. "You two finally ready to join the rest of us?"

Oh shit. The rest of them.

How are you going to face them? You'd never even properly met two of them and you let them into your bed. You'd let the man standing in the doorway come in your mouth last night. You've never even spoken to him.

All of a sudden you found yourself tongue-tied, unable to do anything more than mumble a shy thank you as you were handed your cup of coffee. Starting to sit up you realized you were still completely naked under the blanket and looked around self-consciously for a shirt to pull on.

Kyle saw slight panic in your eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. It was the one Simon had worn last night. You thought about putting up a fuss, asking for one of your own but in the end you graciously accepted, more worried about being covered in the bold light of day than worrying about who's shirt you wore.

Comfortably covered once more you turned to face the two men, looking at you with differing shades of the same smile. You felt around the corners of your mouth and eyes to make sure there weren't any lingering crusties before you took a sip of your coffee. Your eyes widened and darted up to Kyle's face.

"Johnny hasn't stopped talking about you since he you met. Any one of us could make your drink with our eyes closed by now," he teased gently, good-natured mirth shining through his warm eyes. "I hope you don't mind, we took liberties with your kitchen. Cap and Simon are finishing breakfast right now. Well," he allowed with a small shrug, "The captain is, Simon isn't allowed near the stove. Not unless you want a bit of char on your food."

"You didn't have to do all that, here let me . . . " You worked to pull yourself from the bed without spilling your coffee or flashing anyone. "Let me get dressed and I'll be down. They're guests, they shouldn't be cooking." Of all the things. You didn't truly mind the thought of them in your kitchen but it felt like you should protest on principle. When you stood up your hips gave a worrying twinge and you braced yourself against the mattress. Yeah, maybe you should just leave them be after all.

It was embarrassing how quickly Johnny and Kyle were at your side, clearly no worse for wear after the night you all had. You'd like to see them jump up like that after having their hips spread around another's torso. Not so easy then, huh?

Waving them off exasperatedly you gingerly left the room and headed for the kitchen. You walked in just in time to see John swatting at Simon, shooing him away from the stove where he had picked up a spatula and was attempting to stir the eggs. You must have made some sort of noise because both men turned to look at you, freezing as they took you in. Standing in the kitchen with bare legs and Simon's black t-shirt, Kyle and Johnny clustered behind you, you must have made quite the sight. John was the first to come to his senses, pushing the utensil back into Simon's hand distractedly and walking over to you.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He looked you up and down, "we weren't too rough with you last night, I hope?" he questioned with a raised brow, his soft-looking mustache bristling with the movement of his mouth. It twitched while he waited for your answer—worried but fighting not to show it.

"I'm good," you reassured, "Better than, even." You smiled sweetly up at him, enjoying watching the tension leave his face, the little furrow between his brow disappearing. It almost startled you, how fond you were of these men. It was strange.

You didn't know the exact shade of blue John's eyes were but you knew he needed reading glasses if it was late at night and he was still working on paperwork. You'd never seen the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck but you knew he liked deep-tissue massages after tough missions.

So strange. You knew them intimately and as strangers all at once, a unique dichotomy to be in. You wondered if they felt the same way. They knew how you took your coffee and what you would normally make for yourself for breakfast. Was it so hard to believe they were in the same boat as you? That they knew you as deeply as you knew them?

You found it was easy to fall into their orbit. All of them drifting around the others in ever-changing patterns. Present but not suffocating.

They liked to keep a hand on you though, for all that they gave each other room to breathe. They would take turns standing beside you after you took a seat—a hand placed low on your back as they came in for a kiss or moving over to hold your hand while they spoke about anything under the sun.

You laughed when the eggs Simon had been tasked to look over had to be tossed out after smoke started wafting from the pan. The happy peals doing more to settle the men than you knew, because hadn't you realized? They were already falling for you too.

Next

[cherryblossom-heart]

I hate you (11.5/12)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

Everything crumbles apart.

Content Warning: ANGST, torture (be warned, it's a little graphic) blood, kill attempts, violence, murder (not of main character), a lot of choking and stabbing. SMUT (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, oral sex [f receiving], penetrative sex, asphyxiation, sub? Sukuna, they a little kinky) like a quarter of it is just smut so seriously, minors dni. Mahito is his own warning. Not proofread. I am not a native English speaker so please do forgive all the spelling mistakes or grammatical errors 😔

W.C. 9.1k (yeah, sorry about that haha)

A/N: Hi besties! So here we are, finally after weeks I finished. I really hope you guys like it, also don't hate me. I already had this in mind before I even decided on the second season haha. Also be warned, smut is in no way my area of expertise so be prepared for a very mid sex scene but my shaylas deserved it after everything they've gone through haha.

<Previous Chapter. Next Chapter>

“Stop! Please!” you wailed, the hoarse scream rasping your throat raw.

Smack

“Please!” you kept trying, tears falling below you.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Uraume’s cough came out strangled as they struggled to keep breathing. After a few failed attempts, blood came out of their mouth. They’re eyes opened wide as a kick nocked them down to their side.

Your screams had started loud, threats of death and other corporeal punishments coming out of your mouth, as if somehow you could scare them into stopping. After forty minutes of watching multiple punches fall in your siblings body, their hands tied to their back, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You tried bargaining, asking if there was anything you could give them, anything they wanted, just so they would stop but they ignored you.

Uraume had started strong, dodging a few couple of punches, moving swiftly even with their hands immobilized however human stamina could only last for so long. After the fifth punch to the side of the head their stability had dwindled, not longer after that they had collapsed.

Now you pleaded, begged them to stop hurting your only family left alive.

You weren’t sure why you were doing it anymore.

You had nothing left in you. There was no point.

Uraume was going to die. You were too, probably.

Your bodies thrown in a ditch somewhere if you were lucky. Or probably dissolved in acid or burned, whatever left less evidence.

Or maybe you would be chopped into pieces, sent as a message.

You guess you had lied to Sukuna when you promised you would keep your shit together.

Sukuna.

You promised you would trust him.

You did.

I never took you for a weakling.

Snap out of it, brat.

Snap out of it.

Snap.

Out.

Of.

It.

Now.

A wail different than the others came out of your throat, different enough to catch the attention of Uraume’s assailants, their heads snapping in your direction. Confusion washed as they kept listening, your head trembling as you continued. It took them a couple of seconds, nevertheless they heard it. A laugh. A cackle. Tears came down your face as you gasped for air, your howls making your sides hurt.

The man that held Uraume’s body dropped them on the floor.

They came to you, but your laughter didn’t dwindle. You weren’t even looking at them, your body shaking with laughter

Smack.

You fell to the floor.

“What the fuck is so fucking funny?”

You wiped blood off the corner of your mouth, your lungs slowly filling with air as your cackles had ceased. Sukuna might have been the first one to see it, the delicate film that made you seem ordinary, but that was all it was. A cover. A wall that you displayed so you could hide the darkness you kept buried inside.

“You.”

Smack.

“You don’t know who you messed with, do you?”

Laughter. Crazy, bone chilling laughter.

Uraume’s skin grew goosebumps even when she was in the verge of passing out.

“Leave her alone, she’s already going crazy.”

You didn’t have anything to hide anymore. There was no point in keeping appearances.

If you were going to die, you would do it in your own terms.

“I’m not the one you should be worried about.” You kept feeding the fire, sure that another hit would come. “A blocked number and a pathetic little hiding house in the middle of nowhere is not going to stop him. There’s a reason why your old boss is dead.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“He’s going to kill all of you, and I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

“Gag her before I end up killing her.”

Your words were muffled against the rag they had stuffed in your mouth, your eyes told everything you couldn’t. The same bubbling desire of blood and pain absorbed you, just like that it had taken over your body that night.

You trusted Sukuna would come get you, however the longer your mind unraveled you weren’t sure you wouldn’t kill them before he had a chance to even try.

---

“What the fuck do you mean you no one knows where they are?” Sukunas voice rumbled inside Toji’s empty bar, his destructive path causing a couple of Toji’s wooden chairs to be destroyed.

“I called every old contact I could think of. No one knows where they might be hiding.” Toji answered, smoke coming out of his nose as he exhaled his nicotine.

Sukuna’s mind raced with every possible scenario currently happening to Uraume and you. Even if he was sure Uraume could withstand anything they tried throwing her way, he couldn’t bear the thought of you suffering the same treatment. His mind wouldn’t quiet down, repeating scenario over and over again.

Torture.

Your eyes filled with happiness as you lifted Yuji in the air, his nephew’s giggle matching yours as you held onto the toddler, kissing his forehead.

Rape.

The faint noise of your breathing filled the room. Your eyes, even as they were closed, moved side to side, dreams filling your sleep. His fingers brushed your cheek and he thanked the night skies you were asleep so you couldn’t watch the tenderness in his eyes as he kissed your skin.

Murder.

“You ever going to teach me how to shoot a gun?” You snatched his phone out of his hands, throwing it to the single couch next to you.

Sukuna, short tempered as always, opened his mouth to protest your actions but you were quicker than him, you pushed him, making him lay back. You climbed on top of him, his hands instinctively reaching for your hips as you mounted him.

He loved when you did that. He really enjoyed feeling your body against his as you looked down at him. You always looked at him and he felt like art was supposed to make him feel.

“Why do you want to learn?” He placed his face in the middle of your chest, his hands gripping and squeezing the skin of your ass.

“In case I need to defend myself.”

“Why would you need to do that when I’m right here?”

Toji hadn’t called everyone he could, he was sure of that. There was still one man that could know where you were being held.

“Call Naoya.”

Toji’s jaw hardened at the name.

“No.”

Sukuna grabbed him by his collar, smashing him against the wall.

“I won’t ask again. Call him or your little runt turns into an orphan.”

A battle of wills ensued, an immovable object against an unstoppable force. Red versus emerald. Sukuna was fueled with his usual anger, boiling inside as the pressure to let it out intensified. Toji wasn’t scared of that, he had seen his fair share of crazy psychotic assholes, after all he grew up with them. The longer they faced, Toji noticed something he hadn’t seen before on Sukuna.

Desperation.

His actions, his threats, his relentlessness. They were all desperate actions. For the first time in a long time Sukuna feared something.

He remembered loving someone like that once.

“Fine.”

Toji took out his phone, searching through his contacts so slowly Sukuna almost shot him and took the phone himself.

“Don’t make any deals with the Zenin’s.” The dark-haired man warned him, his voice rumbling with hatred as he pronounced the last name he had left behind.

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Fushiguro.”

“I’m just warning you, kid. Whatever is that they can offer you, you’ll end up paying tenfold.”

Sukuna knew he was right. You didn’t make a deal with the Zenin’s without risking it going south. He was making a deal with the devil, a mistake he promised he would never make.

None of it mattered. Not when you weren’t by his side safe, away from the world he lived in.

“Call him.”

---

You were thrown to the ground, your knees scraping for what it seemed like the hundredth time. Someone walked around you, their footsteps amplified in your perception as the bag that covered your head left you in complete darkness.

A hand grabbed the bag, freeing you from it. A man, young enough to still look in his twenties, with light blue hair and different colored eyes looked down at you. His smile sent shivers down your spine.

What was he so happy about?

It took your eyes getting used to the light to see them. Scars. Thick, long scars ran across his body, even cutting through his right eye. You were sure he noticed the them as you saw his sinister smile growing wider

“You like the design? I can make one on you.” He spoke, his voice rumbling from within his chest.

He was trying to scare you.

“I rather improve yours. I have a couple of ideas I’m dying to try on you.”

He chuckled, almost as if he found you adorable.

The man grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks as he forced you to look at him. His eyes searched for something, fear perhaps, he could use against you. Your body shook like a leaf, the adrenaline in your veins pumping so strongly you wondered if you could die of an overdose of it. He let go of your face, roughly pushing it away.

“So, you’re Sukunas new toy, huh?”

Silence.

 “You don’t have to answer, I went through all your conversations and phew you guys are a little freaky huh?” He took out your phone from his pocket, typing in the password and unlocking it. “He fucked someone on your bed? And you made him drive you so you could fuck another guy?” He scrolled around your phone, searching for something. “If I was him, I would’ve already put you down like the bitch you are.”

He played around your phone, switching between apps until he finally got what he was searching for.

“But Sukuna has always been a man I can’t fully understand. Instead of teaching you a lesson, he brings you to his family.”

The man turned your phone to you. A picture displayed on the screen of Jin, Choso, Yuji, Sukuna, Watsuke, Uraume and you. You held little Yuji in your arms squeezing your cheek against his while Jin and Choso laughed. Watsuke and Uraume’s face held a frown in the background of the picture, their reaction to you asking them to smile. Even though Sukunas face held the same frown, there was a small glint of tenderness in his eyes as he looked at you, his hands barely visible in the picture as he held onto your waist.

You loved that picture.

“Cute kid.” The stranger said as he turned the phone back. “Maybe I should pay him a visit. He looks like he would be a cute pet.”

Tick

“If you touch that kid you’re going to have bigger problems to fix than a few little scars your daddy gave you, you disgusting monster-looking-like freak.”

The man smiled. His sinister grin grew bigger, almost taking over his whole face.

“I don’t think you understand what’s going on.” He leaned closer, his breath hitting your face. You thanked the universe he at least seemed competent with a toothbrush. “Uraume is going to die. We’ll send Sukuna a little parting gift, I’m thinking a head maybe. After I’m done with you, I’m going to go kill everyone in your little picture, starting with the old man.”

He grabbed your throat, a gasp coming out of your lips as he slammed you on the floor.

“Maybe I should turn you into my pet instead. There has to be a reason why he keeps you around, right?”

His hands pressed harder on your throat, your hands pulling tighter behind your back to try to get yourself free. Everything you did was unsuccessful.

“When I found out Sukuna had a girl, I thought you were some cheap slut he fucked more than once.”

He pressed harder and your heart began hammering against your ribcage. It was almost as if a switch had turn on where your body fought with its natural instincts to get air inside your lungs. You pulled and pulled, the zip ties digging in your skin but the burning sensation felt like nothing compared to the burning of your lungs, clawing at the last particles of oxygen left in them.

“I pretty much was right, until I saw what he did to the men we sent after you.” His body pressed against yours and you felt as if not even the world swallowing you whole would never erase that sensation. “Imagine my surprise when I found out you were that white haired bitch’s sister, I didn’t even know she had a sister.”

Your vision began turning black, dark specks appearing before your eyes. His fingers kept putting pressure on your throat and you wondered whether you were going to die of asphyxiation or a collapsed trachea, both of them equally as bad. The pressure inside your head made you feel as if was about to explode, with each passing second the constriction on your airways driving dangerously close to unconsciousness.

You couldn’t afford that.

Your brain was running out of oxygen, and you knew the longer it kept going the worse it would be for you. The words that came out of his mouth weren’t words any more, just quiet whispers your brain couldn’t comprehend.

“… kill you…”

“… he’ll cry for you?...”

“… enjoy this…”

You felt him, his body going on top of you, right above your knee. You weren’t even sure you would hit in the right place but you took your chance. He may look like a monster yet he had the same weak spot as any regular man.

A groan left his lips, and your lungs could finally breathe again.

“You fucking cunt.”

Your vision cleared up but was instantly replaced by dizziness, your eyes unable to focus on the tilting floor. You tried standing up unsuccessfully, you fell down immediately as you still gasped for the air that was missing inside you.

“…Fuck…you… you balless freak!”

He recovered faster than you thought, his body slamming against yours, knocking you both to the floor again. He wasn’t fully ready, his legs tripping with themselves as he reached for you. You kicked and kicked but his body was too heavy, his legs pressing yours down.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, you fucking bitch.” He yelled to your face.

You had seen it in the movies, and you always figured it hurt like a bitch. You weren’t past any amount of pain just to stop him from putting his hands around your throat again. With what little strength you had left in you, you tucked down your chin and slammed your forehead as hard as you could against his face.

Crack.

“You bitch!” He screamed, blood pooling out of his nose.

Your forehead ached and you were sure it would swell like an egg after the hit but the crimson liquid coming from him fueled your drive. The dizziness had almost cleared out as the pure adrenaline that pumped through your veins made you more alert, almost as if everything was happening in slow motion.

The door busted open, a few men coming in. It didn’t take them long before they pinned you to the floor, your face smushed against dirty floor.

“Try it again, bitch boy! I’ll fucking kill you!” You screamed like a mad woman.

The grey-haired man pulled a butterfly knife, lunging forward before being caught by his own men.

“Don’t do it, Mahito. We need her.”

Mahito.

The name was now burned in your brain.

“Maybe.” He looked down to you, the hemorrhage still going as droplets of his blood fell right next to your head. “We don’t need Uraume, though. Bring her to me.”

Tick.

“You fucking touch them and I’ll fucking kill you, you understand? I’ll gut you like the fucking low life amoeba you ar– “

Crack.

You felt the pain in your nose before you understood what had happened. His foot had made contact with your nose, most likely breaking it as your nose also began bleeding uncontrollably. Pain spread through your face; it’s sting somehow reaching your eyes.

“Tie her up to that pipe. And bring me my stuff, I’m going to have fun with them.”

---

“So, are you sure about this?” Toji asked Sukuna one last time as he closed down his trunk.

“It’s better if I go alone.” He answered as he closed his jacket, a balaclava covering his face. “I rather take them by surprise, makes it easier.”

Toji sighed. “Whatever you say, kid.” He walked to the front of the car, taking something out of the glove box. “Here.”

A gun.

A revolver to be precise.

“It never hurts to carry extra protection.”

“Sure.” Sukuna grabbed the gun, stashing it in his pocket. “Don’t fucking take off unless I say so, got it?”

“Whatever you say.”

He took a look around, a sea of trees covered in the moonlight except for a faint yellow light source that he could spot at the distance. Mahito had found himself a decent safe house.

“Sukuna,” Toji called for him. He turned around, the rage and anger boiling inside his eyes the longer the anticipation lasted. “You know this doesn’t end with Mahito, right? As long as she’s with you and you’re in all this shit, this will always end up catching up to her.”

“Fuck you.” Sukuna spat, venom lacing both words.

“Take it from someone who learned the hard way.” The green-eyed man shrugged.

For a fraction of a second the cool, cocky yet hardened persona Toji always displayed was gone and Sukuna saw pain he had never seen before. Toji’s eyes aged decades, as if he relived it over and over again ever since his wife died.

He never asked how she had died and now he didn’t have to.

But Sukuna wasn’t like him. He wasn’t weak like him. And you weren’t like his wife.

He could protect you. You could protect yourself if it came to it.

“Wait for us here.”

---

Red.

The floor was painted red.

You weren’t even sure whose blood was it anymore.

Maybe it was Uraume’s, deep cuts running down their body as Mahito laughed every time he made them.

Maybe it was yours, you were sure your nose was broken. Or maybe it was the cuts on your cheeks from every punch Mahito gave you.

Or perhaps it was from Mahito’s nose, after all you had taken your chances and had given him a second headbutt to the nose when he had been stupid enough to get close again.

Whoever’s it was, you were sure your dreams would be scarlet now. Or at least until you could finally sink a knife in Mahito’s heart.

Mahito. What a ridiculous name.

“Don’t tell me that’s all you have? What happened to the big scary bitch that’s always up Sukunas ass?”

Uraume spat to the floor, blood and saliva dribbling down their chin.

“I’m just letting you get a couple of hits in; it would be too boring killing you right away.”

Mahito’s knife carved its way across Uraume’s clavicle, its sharp end denting against the bone itself. Uraume wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of listening their screams though, instead opting just for loud grunting that felt too unsatisfactory for Mahito.

You pulled on the plastic that kept you tied in place, scraping it against the edge of the pipe that felt a little too rough. Your hands moved back and forth trying to strip away the zip ties.

“You know when Jogo told me about working with you guys, I thought he was crazy. A couple of low life thugs working on an operation so big? I thought I would have to kill you before you ruined everything.” He laughed to himself, looking back to Uraume. “I mean, I’m still going to kill you, just for different reasons.” He placed his blade on Uraume’s left cheek, only deep enough to leave a small cut. “Anyways, I couldn’t believe him when he said you guys were working behind our backs, trying to take a part of our operation for yourselves. He said he was going to keep you in a leash. We all know how that turned out.”

Uraume laughed, their low voice rumbling within the walls.

“He died as pathetically as he lived. Just like you will.”

Shivers traveled down your spine, seeing your sibling in a new light. You didn’t know this Uraume, perhaps for a very good reason, and they scared you. A part of your brain screaming to stay out of their way.

Mahito traced another long slash, this time across their eyebrow, blood pouring out of the gash.

“You ungrateful bastard” The gray-haired man spat, his long fingers squeezing Uraume’s face. “You are nothing but vermin at the bottom of the barrel, you understand? With out us, you and your owner would’ve stayed nothing.”

Uraume spat on his face, blood and saliva splashing Mahito’s face.

“Suck my dick.”

He stopped, nothing moving but his eyes as his hold on Uraume’s face became painfully stronger. For a moment you wondered if this was it, if that blade that had cause so many slashes on them would finally pierce their heart.

Shooting.

A single shot was heard before a commotion unraveled downstairs. Guns firing caught everyone’s attention, their deep echo bouncing around the almost empty house. You didn’t have to be a genius to know who the author of all the ruckus was.

“It looks to me you’re out of time, Mahito.”

Fear flashed over his eyes for a second, a sea of thoughts running through his mind.

“I’m going to enjoy watching you beg for your life.”

A smile, terrifying as always, took over Mahito’s face.

“Too bad you won’t be here to see it.”

It all happened so fast.

Mahito had grabbed his knife, ready to pierce it through Uraume’s chest.

Your zip ties snapped, freeing your wrist from their painful hold.

You launched at him, milliseconds before he could kill them, knocking him down on the floor with you.

---

Sukunas eyes burned with anger and adrenaline, a psychotic look hanging around his semblance. He didn’t care about enjoying the kill, he didn’t care about the terror in the persons eyes just as they realized there wasn’t a way to kill him. Nothing could kill him not until he could finally see you, safe and away from all this bullshit.

He couldn’t remember how many people were on the ground or how he had been discovered, he couldn’t remember whose blood lingered in his hands, pooling as his knife dug deeper and deeper in the man’s stomach. He couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t you.

A scream.

A scream different from the men that met their fate at his hands

A commotion.

A commotion different from the one of a man being gutted right in front of his friends.

A loud thud.

A loud thud, the same as the bodies falling in front of him.

He had to reach you.

He had to find you.

A bullet grazed his arm, leaving a gash in its path. Sukuna, perhaps for the first time, was glad he had talked to Toji, taking out the revolver the green-eyed man had given him. One single shot and the insignificant life of the man that had dared to shoot at him had ended.

Yes, Sukuna was glad that Toji had given him the revolver, and that he still had four bullets left.

---

Mahito’s hand had dropped the knife in the tussle, landing next to Uraume however not close enough for them to reach for it. You had managed to put yourself on top of him, your knees digging on his arms as you pinned him to the floor.

Your fist had made contact on his nose again and again, and when he had turned his face, a feeble attempt to stop the hits from landing, you had punched him anywhere you could. Eye, cheek, mouth, anything you could land a hit on.

You hated him.

You wanted to kill him.

You were going to kill him.

You were careless though. Your rage had blinded you enough to not notices how you had begun to lean forward, your weight not fulling resting on his arms but his chest.

His left hand freed itself.

His fingers dug on your hair, grabbing a fistful of it as he pulled you off him.

Your body landed on the floor with a loud thud, your elbow taking the brunt of the fall. You tried standing up however it didn’t take long for Mahito to take his payback. Long fingers found their place against your throat once again, pressing down on your air supply.

A punch came first.

Then another.

And another.

“I should’ve taken care of you first, you filthy whore.”

Uraume’s leg desperately stretched as far as it could, fighting to try to grab the knife and free themselves from their restraints. For the first time ever since they got the news about their parent’s deaths, fear crossed Uraume’s heart, drowning them in despair as the only thing they could do was watch you take hit after hit.

Between hits and dizziness you spotted the knife, inches away from your reach. You reached out for it, your arm aching as your muscles ripped apart trying to save your life.

Your siblings shoe made contact with the blade, pushing it towards you.

Ever since that night, you had wondered what it would feel like. Taking away someone’s life, chewing away their hopes as you watched emptiness filling their eyes. You wondered if you would enjoy it. You wondered if it would ignite something in you that should terrify you.

What you weren’t expecting was the fear, the fatal realization that they were going to die. You weren’t expecting how much you would enjoy it.

The blade touched his neck, sliding from side to side in a quick motion as blood poured down like a crimson waterfall. The liquid was warm once it touched your skin, covering your face as Mahito got off you, his hands trying to stop the hemorrhage.

He backed away, choking sounds coming from his throat as he fought to stay alive and his lungs filled with blood. Now his fingers were wrapped around his own throat. You pushed him to the floor, positioning yourself on top of him once again.

You couldn’t stop.

Each stab after the other begging you to keep going.

You couldn’t stop.

Uraume’s bloodied face invading your mind, their body twitching on the floor as you could only plead for them to stop.

You couldn’t stop.

Memories of that night playing over and over again, all because of him. You remembered the way they talked, their smell, their strength once they had gotten their paws all over you.

Because.

Of.

Him.

You couldn’t stop.

Because you didn’t want to stop.

Uraume called your name softly, like they would do when you were five and mom and dad had gotten in a screaming match in the living room while Uraume tried to calm you down as they sang a lullaby.

The door busted open, making both of your heads snapping towards it. A man in a balaclava came in, absorbing the scene in front of him. You didn’t give him time to react, your hand already driving the knife to the guy’s body.

He was fast, dodging your murder attempt almost immediately. You kept trying, the adrenaline of the previous fight still in you, causing him to wrap his arms around you. Your arms still flinging the blade around, trying to strike him. He suffocated you.

“Get the fuck off me! I’ll fucking kill–“

“Stop. It’s me.” He yelled as he forced your arms down. Your body kept fighting, this time with wariness as you absorbed his voice. “It’s me.”

You stopped fighting, his left hand caressing your face as he made you look at him.

Carmine eyes.

Sukuna took off his cover, panicked eyes washing over the red mask along your skin.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

You couldn’t answer, your body suddenly limp. You couldn’t talk, you couldn’t move, everything crashing in slow motion.

“Hey, look at me. Are you hurt?”

His fingers touched your nose, the pain making you flinch.

“Say something” he yelled.

“I’m fine.” Your voice trembled, finally being able to speak. “Get Uraume.”

“You­–“

“Get them. Please.”

Sukuna took a second, his eyes falling in your bruised face and gash covering your nose. He looked behind you, Mahito’s body laying still in a pool of its own blood. He saw Uraume’s body, tiredly looking at him as they looked at you, the sadness in their eyes almost compared to his own.

His eyes connected with yours, the shock still deep rooted in you.

One single tear fell from your face, trying to wash away consequences this had on you.

---

Sukunas hands trailed figures along your body while you slept, his eyes traveling amongst every bruise, every cut, every injury you displayed. Even with Shoko’s hands and hard work there were going to be scars left in your body, along with the ones already engraved in your soul.

After Shoko had left you took a shower, washing away every trace of Mahito you still had on you. The shower floor had turned red for a couple of seconds before being washed away by the clean water falling.

It had been exactly four hours and twenty-seven minutes since you had fallen asleep, heavy exhaling and occasional groaning being the only noises in the room. He had tried to sleep as well, only to be met by immense anxiety as soon as his closed his eyes, his mind replaying your crazed frenzy against Mahito’s dead body.

He stood up, taking a trip to the kitchen to grab a beer. Maybe alcohol could help find some sleep.

Uraume laid in the couch, stitches covering their body along with an arm sling. Sukuna saw their eyes closed, assuming they had passed out as well. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisting the cap and throwing it to the trash bin.

Sukuna felt he had aged ten years in the span of a day.

He took a sip from his beer, the familiar piss-like taste welcoming him with open arms. Maybe a couple of Xanax would also help.

“Can’t sleep?”

Uraume’s voice startled him.

“Yeah.”

Sukuna downed his first drink, throwing the bottle away before grabbing two more. He made his way to Uraume, sitting next to them.

“How are you doing?” He passed one of the bottles to them.

They shrugged. “Been better.”

Sukuna chuckled.

“Yeah, can’t say I’ve seen you worse.”

Uraume playfully punched him in the arm.

“Thanks for nothing by the way. My little sister had to be the one saving my ass.”

“Not my fault you two pissed him off enough for him to try to kill you. Now you know how I feel when you two can’t stop bitching.”

“Fuck you.”

Both of them laughed, sinking further into the couch.

It was almost as if nothing had happened.

Almost.

Uraume’s laugh died down, their eyes locking in the bottle they held in their hands.

“You know this isn’t done, right? If Mahito knew about us, all of them know. Jogo, Mahito, Dagon, Hanami. All of them know.”

“I know.”

That was exactly what he feared. There were risks he had taken when he had accepted to work with them, after all drug distribution and money laundering never came without its own terms and conditions. They had also taken risks when they had planned on join them just to take a bigger chunk of money than they were promised.

How stupid had they been. He hadn’t thought about what could happen to the people surrounding them. Sukuna had always been careful to never give information about himself, as Uraume had also done. But things never go to plan, do they? Something was bound to catch up and you had been in the destruction radius.

“We have to kill them. All of them.” Uraume whispered.

“I know.”

Their hand gripped his forearm.

“We have to leave her behind.”

Sukuna began to argue back. “I–“

“Listen to me.” They turned, eyes cold as ice. “You didn’t see her there. You didn’t see what this did to her. It changed her.” Every word came through gritted teeth. “Everything that happened to her was because of us. We are the ones that broke her.”

“Fuck off, you know that’s not true.”

“Stop lying to yourself. If she wasn’t my sister, if you weren’t following her around like a lost puppy, nothing would’ve ever happened to her.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

 Sukuna’s words came hard like the barrier he tried to put to Uraume’s reasoning.

“You know I’m right. The more we drag her along into this, the worse she’ll end up paying for it. Is that what you want? For her life to be completely ruined?”

“Sukuna?” Your voice cut through the hallway, sleepiness seeping through.

“Go back to sleep.”

You mumbled something back, too low for them to understand but he knew you were probably struggling to fall back asleep without him. Uraume had successfully ruined his chances to fall asleep as they had also ruined his drink. He stood up, dropping the remaining liquid in the sink before going on his way.

“Sukuna,” they called. With his hands turned into fists, he faced them. “If you care about her as half as I think you do then you know I’m right. The longer we wait, the further Hanami and Dagon go.”

He exhaled, his fingers pinching his nose.

“I–“

“Sukuna?”

Your voice, calling him like a siren in the sea making his heart leap as if he was a teenager again. He hated how you had that effect on him.

He gave Uraume one last look over the shoulder.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

—-

“God, you’re such a fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, at least I’m not a cunt like you.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you.”

A screaming match woke Sukuna up. Your voice mixed with Uraume’s in a battle that made his temples pulse. His eyes opened to the darkness of his room but somehow that made the screaming seem louder. He kicked the covers away, his usual bad temper worsened now that he had been waken up so abruptly.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think­–“

“What the fuck is going on?” Sukuna came in roaring in anger into the kitchen. Uraume and you stood behind the bar, tension surrounding you.

You turned to him, your jaw tight. “Uraume here is telling me you guys are thinking dipping. And that you’re leaving me behind.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“What the fuck would you know what’s good for me or not?”

“If you stopped to think for five seconds you–“

“Oh, fuck you and your five seconds you–“

“Enough!” He screamed, once again. This time it was ineffective, only gaining your attention for five seconds.

“Why can’t you understand this is what’s best for you?” Uraume asked, frustrated already with your stubbornness.

“Because is not! You both want to leave me here and I’m supposed to what?” You ask, words barely coming out through your gritted teeth. “Just stay here, all by myself while you guys are out there getting yourselves killed?”

“That’s exactly why you can’t come, you idiot!”

In all his time knowing them, Sukuna had never heard Uraume scream like that. It was a tone usually parents used, the typical scolding a kid got whenever they misbehaved or broke something. Uraume never used it, not in front of him at least, and only then he had truly seen how much they always tried to protect you.

And surprisingly, their words affected you just like they would a child.

Tears began pooling on your eyes, you opened your mouth to say something, but the words never came out, dying in your throat as you turned around to take some air.

You finally looked at Uraume, carefully holding them by their shoulders. “You are the only family I have left, the only person in my life I can always count on. I can’t let you leave.” Your voice broke yet you kept going. “When mom died you promised me you would always be there for me, and now you want to leave me? You promised I would never be alone. I can’t do this without you.”

Uraume’s cold, icy stare melted away with every word you said. Their mind traveled back many years, when the cops had come knocking on the door, asking for an adult. Uraume, with barely seventeen years of life, had to be the one to break the news to you.

The same scared sad eyes stared at them and Uraume’s heart broke all over again.

“You are strong, you’ve always been. You don’t need me anymore, I think you never have.” Uraume took a deep breath. “I promised I would always protect you so no matter how much you beg, you’re not coming.”

The argument started back again, this time with tears in your eyes as you cussed Uraume with every name in the book, them answering right back with different packaged insults.

“Shut the fuck up!” Sukuna walked to the counter, tossing his keys to his friend. “Take a fucking ride or something. Cool off.”

Uraume open their mouth to protest but the words died once their eyes met, Sukunas stare warning them against it.

“Whatever.” They scoffed as they left.

Once Uraume had smashed the door shot Sukuna walked to you, his arms engulfing you in a tight hug. You desperately tried to wipe away the tears, almost as if you were embarrassed of it.

“Hey,” His left hand lifted your face. “Calm down.”

“You can’t fucking go. You can’t fucking leave me.” Your words were going a hundred miles an hour, as if time was running out to convince him. “I know Uraume doesn’t want me to go but fuck them, I know you’re the one that always gets the last word in. Don’t let them do it, please.”

“Brat–”

“I can’t have more people leave me. I can’t, Sukuna.”

“I’m not going to leave you.” He tried to appease you, unsuccessfully.

“You don’t get to do this.” You shook your head, pushing him away from you. “You can’t just make me care about you, worry about you. You don’t get to make me get used to you. You don’t get to make me miss you.”

“Stop rambling.” He tried to touch you and you slapped his hands away.

“You don’t get to make me love you and just leave me behind.”

Sukunas world stopped. The air inside his lungs, the thoughts inside his mind, the blood running through his veins, everything stopped.

It wasn’t the first time he heard those words. Several times the women that kept him company had confused his carnal interest for affectionate, they were always met with the same indifference that broke their hearts. He just moved on to the next one. This time, he couldn’t explain what he felt. Happiness? Fear? Joy? Whatever it was, it crashed into him. Two words and his life had changed forever.

You both stood there, looking at each other as you both tried to digest what you had said.

It had slipped out of your mouth, the panic and fear stopping any restraints you put on your own thoughts. Sukuna had always been right about you, you never looked for serious relationship, keeping your heart guarded behind the distance you always kept with people. Even with Uraume, you couldn’t remember the last time you had told them you loved them. It didn’t really matter, you knew they knew how you felt about them.

But Sukuna was different. You couldn’t stand him, you had told him so many times you hated him the word was meaningless at this point, nothing but a playful jab you had between each other.

Mutual hate was easy to express, easy to deal with.

Love terrified you.

Love paralyzed you.

Love hurt you.

Yet you were still willing to love him.

Sukuna’s eyes widen and you were ready to backtrack, ready to apologize and pretend nothing had happened. Erase the memory off your mind by locking it away with the rest of painful memories you had, only remembering it at night when the hurt hit the most, only when you were alone.

He surprised you, yet again.

“I love you too.”

His lips crashed into yours, desperately seeking your taste. His hands traveled across your body, despite his carnal hunger he still was cautious, his touch turning lighter when he got close to a bruised area.

You kissed him back, your hands wrapping along his neck. Your fingers dug thorugh his hair as you pushed him closer to you, even though you were already skin to skin. You wanted to be closer to him to a molecular level, your bodies entwined as one and maybe then you would be satisfied.

His hands groped at the skin of your thighs, his feral instincts coming out again. After a light pull your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands cupping your ass as he guided you back to his room.

You had played this song and dance many times before. Clothes would usually come off before hitting the bedroom, leaving a trail behind to the obscene noises that came out of his room. There was always a level of desperation from both of you, neither could wait until finally feeling each other as Sukuna pulled noises from you that no one could before.

It was always the same routine. Except, this time he took his time.

He placed you on his bed, kissing every inch of your body he could. His t-shirt had been thrown to the other side of the bedroom, leaving your body only covered by a pair of red underwear.

Sukunas lips traveled below along your stomach and thighs, each touch sending your heart into cardiac arrest only to bring you back again and again. You were addicted to it, his touch was a sweet drug that always lured you to come back no matter how much you despised him for it.

Finally, his path led him to your core, your insides twisting with excitement and anticipation. His eyes searched for your gaze, looking for the exact same loving look you had given him five minutes ago.

It was always there. It had been there for a long time.

Sukuna looked beautiful, the sight of his face between your legs only adding to the wetness between your thigs. In a not so surprising move from him his nose dug on your mound, sniffing like a dog searching for his favorite snack. You felt his nose digging, going over and over again your clit.

A moan escaped your lips and he stopped, earning a second one but this time in protest. He smiled, the same lazy, cocky, confident smile that irked you to the bone. God, he got your blood boiling so easily. Yet you craved for him, almost as if the anger made every touch ten times more intense.

You moved your hips closer to his face, but he moved away.

He wanted you to beg. He wanted to hear your pleas as you begged for him snatch your underwear off and dig his tongue between your lips. He wanted to see how your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth slightly pouted as you begged him to keep going, to satiate the thirst he felt.

You hated him yet you craved for him.

“Please” You whispered, your throat suddenly dry.

“Please, what?” He whispered back, smile widening.

You didn’t want to, your pride still standing big and strong.

He moved your underwear to the side, taking a deep sniff, his skin only a hair away from touching you and every ounce of resolve exited your body.

“Please, lick me.”

His tongue, digging in as a man who has never drank water, travels up and down, savoring every bit of taste he can. He never thought someone could taste so sweet. He knew this wasn’t enough for you, however a man could only be so selfless. He wanted to drink you as much as he could before giving you what you wanted.

He licks up and down again and again, his tongue poking at your entrance with slow, lazy drags. Your fingers reached to his hair, digging and pulling from it from the roots, and he moans, the vibrations clashing against your skin.

Sukuna looks up to you, your eyes closed in lust as his tongue finally stays on the top, lying flat against your bundle of nerves, and he gives in. It traces a pattern, moving to all the right places he knew would leave you speechless.

Your body was now a road he new every in of new. He knew what made your knees give in, what made your eyes shutter down, your head thrown back in pleasure. He knew what made you bit your lip, your teeth drawing blood trying to drown the moans that left your lips. He knew what made your nipples hard, his eyes unable to look away from them.

The pleasure came in waves, drawing you further into the ocean. Every lick drove you over the edge, your hands now traveling from his hair to the bedsheets. You weren’t able to stop your whimpers and cries, the last bit of your consciousness driving your hand to cover your mouth.

Sukuna grabbed it, snatching it away.

“I want to hear you.”

He drove you to the edge when his fingers buried themselves inside you, building the tightness bulling in your belly until you snapped. A cry of pleasure left your lips as the orgasm took over, your legs closing on his head to the point of suffocation.

He felt his cock twitching against his boxers.

Every bit of your release is licked away, savored by him, to a point you fought for him to stop. It was too much, and he knew it. He enjoyed the way you squirmed away, trying to peel his hands away only for him to dig in more, his hingers suddenly turning into stone prisons.

This time your pulls on his hair weren’t in pure bliss, it was your wildness trying to pull you away from the overstimulation. After what felt forever, his face pulled up only to be met by the palm of your hand. The clap of the impact reverberated in the room, leaving a complete silence behind it.

Your fingers left a red imprint on his skin.

The fire in his eyes burned you as if you had doused it with gasoline, making your heart jolt to your throat. In a matter of seconds, he had climbed over you, his hand pinning you down by the neck. Your breath hitched as you felt his hands there, the soreness of your throat suddenly overwhelming you.

Sukunas eyes looked at you in confusion, only to remember the bruises his hands covered. He pulled them away, as if they had burned him.

“Fuck, sorry. I forgot. Fuck.”

He tried to get off you, but your hand gripped his arm.

You smiled at him, your fingers caressing his skin. “Don’t. It’s ok. It’s ok when it’s you.”

His lips kissed your neck, traveling along the finger-like bruises that covered your skin. Light touches that almost felt like feathers caressing you invaded your senses. Sukuna wanted to erase every mark on your body.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the full body mirror he kept to the side and your heart sank. The bruising along your nose, the black over your eyes. The slight swelling that could still be seen and the cuts along your face.

How could he stand looking at you?

You tried turning around, away from his gaze. He didn’t allow you.

“What’s wrong?”

“I—“ You hesitated, “My face.”

His fingers trailed along your face, hovering just above your black eye.

“You are the most beautiful human on earth.”

He kissed you deeply, your own taste filling your tastebuds. You didn’t care, not when you craved him inside you, not when the world seemed to combust if you didn’t have him filling you.

Sukuna got off, taking off his boxers as he layed himself down on the bed, positioning you on top of him. You threw away your panties, smashing the wall in the direction you had thrown it. You sat on top of his cock as it buried itself between your folds.

“Use me, brat. Take out all your frustrations on me.”

You lined him with your entrance, sinking in so slowly Sukuna feared you would never actually bottom him out. His cock makes his way inside you, your walls welcoming the oh so familiar delicious stretch you’ve grown accustomed to. He filled you up better than anyone, you had basically salivated the first time you had seen his grith. The first time he had fucked you, you couldn’t sit well for a couple of days, every time you moved bringing back the memories of that dingy low life bar.

 Sukuna gritted his teeth, his head rolling back as you decided to stay still. He tried moving you, his hips bouncing against yours but your hand on his throat, pressing down slightly.

“Are you going to be good for me, pretty boy?”

“Fuck off.”

Smack.

Your slap made his face turn, another imprint left on his skin. Before he could react to it, his hands already ready tear you off him, you pressed down on his neck, his breath hitching on his lungs.

The pace you set was unrelenting, bouncing up and down his cock with pleasure quickly building up inside you. And God, he loved it. He loved being at your disposition. He loved seeing you taking charge. He loved how you clawed at him, how your teeth would sink on his skin, leaving marks of pleasure along his shoulders. He loved how your nails left traces on his back, the deeper the better.

He angled his hips differently and a whole other wave of pleasure began to pool in your womb. Each time you sink down his hands gripped your waist, pulling you even further down.

His vision began to fade a little, his eyesight tunneled from your grip. Your fingers dug deep in his skin every time you fully took him in, the tip of his cock brushing against that soft spot that made your toes curl.

With hesitation, his hands trailed up your body stopping just before your collarbones. He looked at you, looking for permission.

Please, his eyes begged.

You smiled.

That goddamed smirk of yours.

It was a battle of wills. Who could last longer without passing out before the so exorbitant orgasm could wash you away? Who could press harder, driving each other to the point of passing out, before the pleasure would take over?

Sukuna was the one to give in first.

He knew you needed the power, you reveled in the power you held over him. He knew it get you off, having him begging on his knees to be touched by you. Sure, you would indulge in his control over you, your legs trembling when he bent you over the kitchen counter, pulling your panties down as he spread your legs. You would bite your lip, eyes rolling back as he fucked you from behind, his hands manhandling you to back into his cock.

He knew you enjoyed it, but right now you needed something else.

A gasp spilled from your lips, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as Sukunas strong hands kept you in place, fucking in and out of you to drive you to the edge. It overwhelms you, every sensation, every quick and hard drag he takes, just to smash back inside over and over and over again. It’s too much, too quick, too fast. And you love it.

Finally, you cum. Your walls hug him, and a groan leaves his lips. Fuck, he could feel you, he could feel the sudden slickness covering him, he could hear the crass sound your wetness made as you fucked into you. He loved that sound. Sukuna finally spills in you, both of your releases mixing as he keeps going, wanting to enjoy every bit of pleasure you give him.

You laid down in bed, out of breath and out of energy, your legs sore from the constant, uninterrupted stretch of being on top of him. Sukuna got up, grabbing a towel to clean you. He was careful, soft, delicate strokes wiping away every last evidence of the debauchery that had happened. After making sure you were clean, you felt a feathery kiss in your thighs.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his chest as he buried his nose on your neck. Your fingers brushed away his hair, scratching his scalp as he hums and you can’t help but chuckle, he reminded you of a cat.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

Sukuna paced along his bathroom, his hands shaking as he forced himself to grab his phone. He searched for Uraume’s contact, his heart aching as he pressed the call button. It doesn’t take long for them to answer.

“What?”

Uraume was right. Everything that had happened to you was his fault. Every tear, every fear, every ounce of rage, every bruise, every hit. Everything was his fault. He destroyed everything he touched; it was his curse to bear, and he never… he never thought you would be under his casualties.

He loved you. God, he loved you. He couldn’t keep lying to himself. Not when you three words from you could bring a happiness, he never thought possible. Not when saying those three words came as easy to him as breathing.

Sukuna had always been a selfish man. He took and took until there was nothing left, he had never cared. He never cared to care, the world was always at his disposition. But with you, he couldn’t bring himself to just take. He wanted to give, he wanted to treasure you. He wanted to protect you.

He had to protect you.

“Get your shit packed, we’re leaving tonight.”

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Taglist:

@beautifulwitchcandy @divineascensionz @yunho-leeknow @jun1p3rlol @starriesworlds @orikixxx @vladsgirlxx @paradisestarfishh @animereaderinsertwriter @lastsubstance @moonchhu @vorfreudevortex @that-willowtree @v1x3n @gojoscumsluttt @wrldtups @frootloopscos @aldebrana @kidd3ath @saltedcoffeescotch @meggletoomanyfandoms @b0nez9 @storiesbyparadise @fairygardenprincesss @dimplesxx @comeonatmebruh @imoutofpot @meowpopsicle @csolya @sukubusss @chosolovrrr @naammiii @dollchub @iluvrinnie @magalimachete @pimento-mori @boogiemansbitch @seellove @emochosoluvr @kittyyyyykats @tojisrealwifey @deegausserr @turtl3-warr1or @noooo-onee @kyoshitargaryen @curlyhairkk @stillinracooncity @gina239 @thequeenofcurses @midnightlunartic @ilshades @himezoro @am3thysxt @chckn-pi

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (50/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Reunited.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of fingering and cunnilingus), alcohol consumption, fluff and angst and everything in between

Word Count: 4.7k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: this is part one of the dream I had over two years ago. I'm so proud of what the story has turned into. I love you so much. feedback is appreciated!

Charles: I can’t wait to have you back in my arms tomorrow evening. 

You smile at your phone, fuzzy blanket tucked underneath your chin and feet resting comfortably in Kikas lap. 

You: Next time you go to training camp, I’ll come with you. Take some professional pictures for your Instagram like my job description says. 

Charles: And here I thought you liked the picture I sent you. It‘s not really professional, but I gave my absolute best. 

He gave his absolute best, indeed. Even though the both of you didn’t text that much in the last few days, he made sure to send you a picture of him in case you miss his face. Even though his face wasn’t visible at all in the photo that showed his abs, boxer briefs and thighs.  

Not that you’d ever complain about that. 

You: I loved the photo. 

Charles: Next time I’ll let you take those pictures of me. But maybe with you in them as well. 

You: Is that an offer to sit in your lap again?

You press the send button and put your phone back next to you on the couch, gaze now fixed on the TV. It’s a re-run from Vampire Daries, the episode where it shows that Damon met Elena first. It’s one of your best friends favorites. 

When your phone lights up again, you take a look at the message that popped up on your lockscreen. 

Charles: As long as you’re naked.

You raise your eyebrows at the blunt text, blood rushing to your ears as you stare at your phone. The last few days consisted of quick good mornings, tired good nights and longing I miss yous but this – this makes you hot and bothered. 

A promise of what he’ll do to you once the both of you are back home. 

Charles: I really can’t wait to start the new year with you by my side. 

How can he go from a text that makes you wet to one that makes your heart skip a beat? You purse your lips and smile at your phone. 

„What are you smiling at?“, the Portugese woman asks, hand in a bowl of popcorn. With one inelegant move she grabs as much popcorn as possible and shoves it into her waiting mouth. 

„I’m not smiling“, you lie, grabbing your wine glass from the coffee table and taking a sip. You’re hit with a few popcorn pieces. „Hey! What –„

„Don’t lie to me, querida“, Kika grins. „I may have already had three glasses of wine, but I’m not stupid.“ She raises her eyebrow, waiting for you to answer, even though she already knows the answer to her question. 

You toss her your phone and, like the best friend she is, she unlocks your phone with your pin. Your chat with Charles pops up immediately. “The last message,” you say, and Kika reads the chat carefully. When you remind her that you only want her to see the last message, she sighs. 

“You two are even worse than Pierre and I when we're apart,” she jokes, slowly scrolling up. "It almost hurts how sappy it is." At one message, she throws her head back and laughs before looking at you with a pout. “'I miss you so much it hurts,'” she reads Charles' message from last night. 

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. ‘I know what it says.’ You lean forward and try to get your phone back, but Kika is faster than you and turns away. 

“'Just one more sleepless night and then I'll finally have you back again.' My goodness.” Kika breathes out heavily. "I should show your chat to Pierre. He could definitely learn something from your sentimental messages.”

“Kika,’ you warn her, putting your glass back on the table and watching her scroll on.

“'The bed is so empty without you,'“ the brunette continues. ‘’When I'm with you again, I'll keep you in bed and taste your body until –”'”

“Okay, that's enough.” You grab your phone in a flash and sit on it so Kika doesn't get the temptation to take it from you. Blood rushes to your cheeks – and the warmth in your face is definitely not coming from the alcohol. 

“Spicy texts,” she grins, raising her wine glass in a toast to you. "I wouldn't have thought of you as the kind of people who sext each other."

You take the bowl of popcorn and pop a piece into your mouth. ”We don't sext.”

Kika purses her lips into a narrow line and raises her eyebrows. “That didn't sound at all like it. I was scared I was going to come across a nude photo of one of you two.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at her. "There are no nudes, Kika." At least none where either of you is really naked. 

“Phew. Thank God,” she grins and takes a sip of wine. She draws it through her teeth once before swallowing. Her gaze is curious when you look at her. ”I thought you two hadn't had sex yet. At least that was the case a few days ago. Did I miss something?”

You shake your head. “We haven't had sex.”

“But you've already kissed.” When your gaze wanders from her to the TV, she sits up a little straighter. She puts her glass down with a cool expression on her face to place her hands on your ankles. Her eyebrows raised, she looks at you in surprise. “Don't tell me –”

“We haven't kissed yet,” you quietly confirm her thought, as if you didn't dare to say the fact that you both have done a lot together, but haven't kissed yet. 

Somehow the sentence leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

Kika reaches for the remote and pauses the episode before turning back to you. “Why not, if I may ask? I mean...” She pauses to think about how to phrase her sentence without offending you. “Your texts are not exactly G-rated.”

You roll a piece of popcorn between your thumb and index finger. “If I knew, I would tell you,” you reply, examining the snack in your fingers as if it contained all the answers you need to define your relationship – or whatever it is between Charles and you. 

The Portuguese woman purses her lips. “But – you want to kiss him, don't you? Or don't you want tiramisu anymore?”

You shrug. "Nothing has changed." You exhale quietly. "Absolutely nothing.”

Kika tilts her head and looks at you. "That's the problem, isn't it?”

You sit up straight, too, placing the bowl of popcorn between your crossed legs. “It's weird. It is weird, isn't it? We – after the party, when Charles practically dragged me out of the club, he –” You take a deep breath and try to sort out your thoughts so as not to jump from topic to topic. You run your fingers through your hair. “We didn't kiss. He fingered and ate me out, but when I tried to get close to him and touch him, he blocked me. Which is fine in itself – but I –”

Kika, noticing your frustration, grabs your hand and squeezes it gently. “You don't know exactly where you stand,” she finishes your sentence. 

You breathe out and nod slightly. “I mean – isn't it strange that he wants my body but doesn't kiss me? Or doesn't let me touch him? Kissing is actually something you normally do before – before all the other things.”

Your best friend licks her lips. ”Actually, yes.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I didn't sleep with Raphael back then because I didn't feel safe in the relationship – and my gut feeling definitely didn't deceive me.” You shake your head slightly. “And now, with Charles, I feel safe. But he –”

Annoyed by the situation, you close your eyes and lean back against the armrest, putting your forearm over your face. You feel bad that you want to rip Charles' clothes off and kiss him until you can't breathe anymore when he obviously doesn't want it. 

Or rather – wants something else. Unfortunately, you don't know what exactly. 

“Hey.” Kika's voice is gentle as she strokes the back of your hand with her thumb. ”You two have only known each other for – what – two weeks? You were forced to be roommates before you were even friends. It's only natural that your dynamic would change.” She slides a little closer to you on the couch. “From the beginning, you were destined to be more than just people sharing an apartment. I saw that the very first night we met.”

You remember the dinner very clearly. When Charles was so rude to you because he had spoken to Annika, but you two had made up again. When you shared the tiramisu – the tiramisu that became synonymous with the attraction between you and the Monegasque between you and Kika. When you touched for the first time – only through your clothes, but you could still feel the warmth of his skin. 

She purses her lips into a narrow line. “It was obvious from the start that there was more between you. Even if you couldn't admit it to each other back then.” She tilts her head. “Why do you think Charles wasn't so thrilled that you got along so well with Lando right away?”

You mumble through your arm. “When he came back from Maranello, he explained that he was jealous of our friendship and worried that we – Lando and I – might become a couple and we – Charles and I – would no longer be friends.”

“Bullshit.” Kika's voice sounds cutting. 

Confused, you sit up and look at her, your arm falling into your lap. “Excuse me?”

“Bullshit,” the Portuguese woman repeats. “You're right that Charles was jealous, definitely. Even the people on the other side of the table could see that. But not about your friendship with Lando. But because you got along so fabulously within a few hours that Lando knew exactly what you definitely wouldn't eat off the menu.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “We talked about it when we ran into each other at the supermarket and he helped me find the groceries,” you explain to her, as if you had to justify yourself. 

Kika gently pats your hand. “It doesn't matter where or when you talked about it,” she says at some point. “Someone you only knew for a few hours knew something about you that your roommate should have known. And you'd only known Charles for a few days, had argued twice, and then there was someone else who got along with you so well from the start and made you laugh?” She shakes her head slightly. "Charles was never jealous of your relationship with Lando and the possibility that he might lose you as a friend because of it.”

You're at a loss. "Then what?”

Your best friend takes a deep breath. “He was jealous that Lando took his chance before he did. His chance to be closer to you than mere friendship would allow.” She squeezes your hand again. “Charles definitely feels more for you than friendship, querida. And everyone except you can see it.”

You look at her, raising your eyebrow. “Did he tell you that? Or Pierre?”

Kika presses her tongue into her cheek. “No, but –”

“You see?” you reply and pull your hand away from her, propping your elbows on your knees. “I don't know what's going on in his head. And he's not telling me either. Which is perfectly fine. But how am I supposed to feel when he – when he apparently only wants my body but not me?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. 

“I know that the breakup with Annika really affected him,” you continue. "And that's totally understandable. I mean, who wants to catch their girlfriend in bed with another man?" You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. ”I can understand it, really. But – I don't know – if you're really right, then I don't understand why he only wants my body and not me. He would kiss me otherwise, wouldn't he?”

You have the feeling that your thoughts definitely made more sense in your head. But now they are spilling out of you like a shaken bottle of coke. 

“I – I don't know if I can take this. Raphael – when he didn't get my body, he looked for another one, or rather several others. He didn't want me, just my body. I'm afraid it's the same now.” You look away. "I don't think I can get over something like that again. It was already difficult with Raphael, but Charles – Charles means so much more to me than Raphael ever did. Charles is my home. My one and only.”

“Maybe he's also worried that you don't feel the same way about him,” she interjects. "Have you told him?”

“That I love him? No, I haven't.”

Kika blinks at you silently. ’You — you love him?”

You stare at her as if pink elephants were floating around her head. It's the first time you've said it out loud. And contrary to your expectations, your worries and fears, which you brought with you as a legacy from your relationship with Raphael, it feels right. 

Tears well up in your eyes. “I love him.”

Kika can't stop the smile that spreads across her beautiful face. Like a little girl, she throws herself in your direction and wraps her arms around you, pressing herself against you. “I'm so proud of you, querida.” She kisses your cheeks. “So unbelievably proud.” She pulls away from you and wipes the tears from your cheeks with her thumb. 

You look at her, confused. “Proud?” Your voice trembles with excitement. You actually said it. You can hardly believe it. 

“Incredibly proud. You let your walls come down even though you were hurt so badly.” Now tears are welling up in her eyes as well. ”You let love into your heart. Passion. You're ready to be loved, sweetheart. The greatest adventure in the world. I'm so incredibly proud of you.”

The two of you embrace for another moment before your friend pulls away from you and jumps up from the couch. She grabs her laptop and googles shops that sell dresses suitable for tomorrow's occasion. 

“We'll go shopping tomorrow morning and get you a dress that will take Charles's breath away,” she grins, cuddling up next to you under the covers. "We'll buy you a dress that he can't wait to rip off you." She smiles at you. ”And he'll kiss you. I'd bet money on that, too.” Before she clicks through the internet any further, she grabs the remote and presses play. 

You wipe a tear from your eye before leaning your cheek on her shoulder to watch her browse. In the background, you hear Damon speaking in the series:

“You want a love that consumes you. You want passion and adventure and even a little danger.”

It's as if he's speaking from your soul. 

-

You carefully get out of the cab, trying not to wrinkle your dress. With your purse on your shoulder, you walk up the few steps to the house where Kika's New Year's party is taking place. Your dress is baby blue, with a slit that reaches to the middle of your thigh and a back neckline that definitely doesn't allow for a bra. 

Kika did an amazing job dragging you through the various shops this morning, forcing you to try on countless dresses. 

And indeed, you found the perfect dress. 

“You look fabulous,” she smiles as she opens the door for you. There are already a lot of people in the background and music can be heard outside on the street. She kisses you on both cheeks. ”That dress was definitely the right decision. If Charles doesn't give you at least a New Year's kiss on the lips, I'll be happy to do it for him.”

Your girlfriend is wearing a black, sparkly dress with a cutout at the waist that accentuates her figure beautifully. She grabs your arm and pulls you through the crowd of people, all of whom are also wearing chic evening wear. 

You look her up and down and whistle. “You look hot, Kika,” you compliment her as she stops in the kitchen. “Maybe I'll take you up on that offer. Where's Pierre?”

“I have no idea. He's probably lurking around somewhere.”

While she mixes you a drink, you look around before taking your cell phone out of your handbag to see if Charles has sent you a text. 

But there is nothing. Since this afternoon, when he texted you that he was on his way back to Monaco. 

Kika notices your searching look. “He's not here yet.” She waits until you have put your cell phone back in its case before she hands you the almost full glass. “But don't worry. He'll definitely come. After all, he promised you.” She points to the large clock hanging next to the double-door refrigerator. “And he still has two hours before the new year begins.”

The next hour and a half feels like an eternity – no, two eternities. 

You chat with Kika and her friends, even Elena is there, and you win a round of beer pong with her, which looks pretty funny considering that all the guests are dressed as if they could go to the prom in a minute. 

The music is loudest in the huge living room, and the bass vibrates right through to your bones as the three of you dance and drink and enjoy the evening as if it were the last day. Which, in theory, it is. 

But no matter what you do, your thoughts are always with Charles. Is he already in Monaco? Or even on his way here to you? 

You have to actively stop yourself from checking your phone every five minutes in the hope that he has sent you his location or a message. These last few days you have missed him so much that you would like to call him to ask him where he is. 

And the more minutes pass, the closer midnight and the new year come – the more your stomach becomes queasy. 

With your jaw clenched, you stand in the bathroom and wash your hands, holding your wrists under cool water to get rid of the heat, but somehow it doesn't quite work. Your thoughts revolve around Charles. 

Charles, who you haven't seen in days. Charles, who you miss terribly. Charles, who you love. 

Charles, who apparently isn't going to show up at this party. 

When there's a knock at the door, you turn off the tap. “Occupied!”

The door opens and just as you're about to complain, Kika and Elena poke their heads into the bathroom. Their cheeks are red from alcohol as they join you and close the door again. 

Kika puts her arm around your shoulder while Elena leans against the wall. “He'll be here,” the Portuguese woman tries to cheer you up, as if she can read your mind. Apparently, it's written all over your forehead. 

You look at her, raising your eyebrows. “And what if he doesn't? There are only twenty minutes left until New Year.” You try to sound as neutral as possible, but you can still hear the tension in your voice.

“Who'll be here?” Elena asks, looking at both of you and taking a paper towel to moisten it a little at the sink. 

“Charles,“ Kika answers for you. When you give her a dirty look, she just shrugs. 

“Don't worry,” Elena smiles, stepping in front of you and taking your chin in your hand to wipe away the mascara under your eyes. “He's probably already outside looking for you.”

Kika nods eagerly. “Elena's right,” the model agrees. "Come on. You've been in here for far too long. We're going out there now and celebrating the New Year together," she says, leaving no room for discussion. She grabs your hands and pulls you both outside, where Pierre is leaning against the wall. The music is quieter here, more subdued, so you can even have a proper conversation.

“Where the heck have you been?” Kika pouts at him and puts her arms around his neck. "I haven't seen you in ages." She gently pulls him down to her and kisses him briefly before nestling against his side. "Doesn't she look great in that dress?" she asks, pointing at you and your gown.

Pierre smiles at you and kisses you on the cheek in greeting. “You look beautiful,” he says before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead. “But I still have the hottest date tonight.”

“And I don't think that's true,” you hear someone say behind you. The voice is warm and gentle and oh so familiar. When you turn around, he's standing there in dress pants and a shirt and absolutely perfect. ”Good evening, mon amour.”

You don't even try to hide your joy at seeing him again, which is why you immediately throw yourself at him. His muscular arms wrap around you and he lifts you up, before spinning you around briefly. 

When he sets you down, his warm hands remain on your hips, while yours rest on his cheeks. “Hi,“ you smile at him, trying to blink away the tears of joy gathering in the corners of your eyes. 

“Well, did you miss me?” he grins, his fingers spreading apart and now resting on your lower back, on your bare skin. 

Goosebumps spread out at the place where he touches you. As if it is the first time. As if you can't get enough of him. You smile. “Well,” you try to play down your emotions. “I finally had a whole bed to myself,” you joke. 

The Monegasque rolls his eyes playfully before pressing you closer to him. “In your messages, it sounded like you couldn't wait for me to lie next to you again,” he whispers, his warm breath caressing your face. 

You look up at him. “Maybe I was lying.”

“I doubt that very much,” he smiles at you. "I'm so glad to be with you again." He leans down to you and gently kisses your cheek as your hands slide down to his chest. ”Next time I'll really take you back to camp. I never want to be separated from you for so long again.”

You purse your lips. “It wasn't that bad.” Cheeky lie. 

He raises his hand and places his curved index finger under your chin to lift it up so that you look at him. His eyes sparkle in that beautiful green that you love so much. 

“It was absolute hell.”

“Maybe you two should just get married,” Kika interjects. You both turn your heads in her direction and stare at her in puzzlement. Pierre nudges her in the side. ”What? Sooner or later it'll happen anyway.”

“Okay, my darling. How much have you had to drink?” Pierre asks her, as he throws you an apologetic smile and then wraps his arm around his girlfriend's waist to lead her away from you both. Elena gives you a quick wink and follows the couple. 

Charles leans against the wall, but pulls you with him so that his hands are back on your hips and you are standing between his legs. “You look beautiful in that dress,” he smiles, letting his fingers slowly travel over the fabric on your butt before sliding up over your bare back. “Did you know that it's my favorite color?”

The smile on your face grows wider. “Maybe.” Your arms wrap around his middle. “I missed you so much,” you answer his question from earlier. 

His hand gently caresses your shoulder blades before his fingers carefully find their way to the back of your neck, holding you there. “Never again without each other,” he whispers, as if it were a promise meant only for your ears. 

You nod slightly. “Never again without each other.”

In the background, you can hear the other party guests beginning to count down the minutes to midnight. You both glance towards the door. 

“We should get back to the party,” you say, pushing away from him, just a little, because you can't get any further with his hand on the back of your neck. “So we can start the new year together with the others.”

“I'm not interested in the others,” he says, but follows you back to the party. ”As long as I have you, I don't care about the others.”

His words make your blood rush to your cheeks. 

It’s like his presence makes you see everything more vibrant. The air in the apartment seems to shimmer in golden light, a haze of champagne bubbles and glow of string lights wrapped around the ceiling beams. Things you haven’t noticed before, because you were so focused on Charles‘ absence. The both of you come to a halt next to Kika and Pierre, the first one handing the both of you champagne glasses. 

„You ready?“, she smiles at you, raising one eyebrow. 

Now is the time. The breaking point. The start of it all - or the end before it even really started.

You nod slightly. „I’m ready.“

You stand beside Charles, his free hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you so close against him that not even a sheet of paper would fit between the both of you. But even though his hand is on your bare skin, he doesn’t seem close enough. You can smell his cologne – something crisp and familiar, laced with memories of late-night drives and inside jokes and pillow talks. You steal a glance at him, your heart stumbling over itself. 

He laughs about something Pierre shouts at him, dimples flashing, his green eyes catching the chandelier light in a way that makes your breath hitch. You’ve known him for two weeks – two fucking weeks – but it seems like you’ve known him since forever. The way his voice sounds all raspy and deep when he wakes up. The way his eyes light up when he talks about something he’s passionate about. The way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room who truly matters to him. 

And yet, he has no idea. 

All around you, the energy shifted. The crowd tightened, turning towards the big TV screen mounted on the wall, where the countdown was shown. 

Ten. Nine. Eight. 

Your pulse quickens. Your heart beats so fast, that you fear it’ll break through your ribcage. You inch even closer, pressing yourself against his side. You can feel his body heat through your dress, something you missed the last few days. It’s been two weeks of skirting around the truth, of stolen glances and unsaid words and hesitant touches, and you don’t know if you can bear another second o fit. 

Charles shifts beside you. You can feel it – the way his body stiffens, the way his breath falters. 

Seven. Six. Five. 

Then, just as you lift your head, he leans down. It would take nothing to close the space between your lips. Just an inch. Maybe less. You can feel his breath on your face. 

He says your name, whispers it in a room full of people who shout numbers, but all you can hear is him. His voice is raw. A plea. A warning somehow. 

Four. Three. Two. 

He closes his eyes, his forehead brushes against yours and the closeness makes your pulse stutter. Every little detail of him is magnified – the different shades of green, the tension in his jaw, the fingers tightening around your hip, curling into your flesh like he’s afraid of letting you go. Like you’d slip out of his reach if he loosens his grip.  

One.

His eyes snap open, dark and conflicted. 

You push yourself up, not even an inch, and Charles – 

Charles pulls away. 

Happy. Fucking. New Year. 

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 14

ch 15 is done so y'all can have ch 14, these are getting longer and longer- If I somehow end up passing 4k words I'll have to break these into pt1 and pt2 🥲

Also- y'all can not rip Jason's finger tattoos saying "jailbird" from me, ever.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 14 >>next

Your hands were shaking as Slade led you to one of the many bathrooms in the building, but despite everything, you were proud of yourself. You didn’t cry, that was good enough in your book. “You were fast with that throw. Not many get a hit on the man, as clumsy as he fakes being.” His voice only seemed to make you angrier.

You took a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hasn’t done anything to you, yet at least. You’re not angry at him- is what you had to repeat to yourself before answering. “I wish it was a knife.” Your face twitched at that. “That- was a very emotionally fueled answer- please don’t hold it against me.” Willson was more amused by the answer than scared or worried.

“You won’t be the first, and you won’t be the last.” The man took his handkerchief and dampened it, leaning against the marble sink as he handed it to you, and you thanked him while taking it. “I’ll hold you up to paying for the cleanup, by the way. I love this suit. Now- why did you really want to talk?”

“Straight to the point I see.” At his smile, you just shrug. “Never was one for pull and push games.” Perhaps it was your hormones, or just how much you’ve repressed your emotions for other human beings due to hurt, but his laugh made your cheeks flush. You were putting a pin on that feeling, for now just dismissing it as anger at the male species.

“I just want to talk, get to know you better.” He went to the modern toilet and took out its wall panel, pulling out a briefcase. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself. Among terrible people.” Slade opens the briefcase once it is on the marble top, revealing his gear and a clean pair of clothes. “So, you want to assassinate me?”

“Assassination is for world leaders, my dear.” The shit-eating grin definitely made you think whatever you were feeling was anger. “But you’re not far off. We have similar enemies.” You took the clean shirt he handed to you, took the wet wipes straight from the case, and went straight for the room divider, Slade turning his back to you. “So- what, you want me to help you and when push comes to shove, you’ll help me?” He could hear the doubt, the sarcasm, and the distrust. But he just smiled. “Yes.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Luthor just kept on looking at you for a few seconds as you lay face down on his emperor-sized bed. “Is that his shirt?” He got a muffled yes in response. “He hid a briefcase in your wall and gave me the spare, said he’ll come back with the clean suit… I so think he wanted to kill you or steal something you have here.” Lex just hummed at that, tapping his foot. “And?” You groaned. “Where do I even begin?”

“Well, you could start from the beginning?” Lex said while getting up and grabbing a set of pajamas and tossing them on your back. You sigh and place your head on your hand, turning your body sideways so you can look at him. “I have parental issues and a part of me finds his stupid eye-patch so hot.” You cackled maniacally as Luthor’s face soured. “Ok. How about we skip forward a bit?” He almost begged.

“Alright- wait-…” You take a closer look at the pajamas. “These are my size.” Your eyes meet his as he confirms with no shame on his mug. “Are you not going to ask why?” Sighing you just get up and move towards his bathroom. “You either want a kid or a wife and I’m not mentally sound enough right now for either one. And I’m sleeping with mom- I so do not believe you didn’t put cameras in my room, you weirdo.”

“I’m a paranoid billionaire genius. I have cameras in every room.” It was his turn to laugh like a maniac as he heard you call him a weirdo again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

With everyone out of the manor, it was finally time for Alfred to clean the whole bloody place. These moments were rare, and while Master Bruce insisted on him taking a break, he wasn’t a man to stay in one place for long without work.

He began from the ground up, the cave, the yard. The ground floor and the first level came and went, on the second level he may have gotten distracted by the new books Bruce got for Jason, and by the time the man of the house got back, Alfred was halfway done with the third floor.

Opening yet another door, his eyes immediately critiqued the dust, barely processing the objects before beginning to clean, starting with a little framed photo and the nightstand. It took him two looks before he registered what the picture depicted- a little girl at her kindergarten graduation event. He doesn’t remember Miss Cassandra this young, Master Bruce must have-

No… Cassandra never went to kindergarten. Alfred drops the cloth he was wiping off the dust with, head snapping around the room- Paintings, so many paintings,  drawing supplies. Medals, diplomas- the more of them he wiped with his gloved hand the more the man trembled, heart beating against his ribcage, the same way it did on the active battlefield- where were you?

A child- a whole child- no. He saw you- yes. In the garden, yelling at Bruce- that-… that was six years ago. Six years ago. Six bloody years ago. Somewhere in his panicked frenzy, a hopeful part of him just thought that maybe you changed rooms, yes, that’s why he began screaming your name like a madman, bursting through the rooms he hadn’t yet opened, screaming as he went down the staircase, rechecking rooms, scaring the kids that were in the manor.

Damian frowned at Cassandra and Tim. “Has Pennyworth lost it?” The girl didn’t even pay him any mind as she simply followed the elder. “No, he-… Where is she?” Tim tried to respond but the distraction got to him- he can’t remember the last time he saw you. Damian had no other choice but to follow as well.

Even though the old man used the stairs he was the first to enter the batcave, the kids following in the elevator. “-she’s missing-“ was what they caught, seeing the picture frame Alfred ran around with now clenched in Bruce’s hands.

“No.” Cassandra said softly, confusion clear on her face. “In London.” Alfred looked at the man as he tried to hide his fury. “You sent the young miss to London without even telling me?” Bruce immediately said a firm no, turning to Cassandra to ask how she even knew of that. “Is anyone going to inform me about who we are talking about?!”

Damian had enough, he didn’t like still being left in the dark about things that seemed this important. Tim repeated your name like it was obvious, but Alfred felt the world crash on his head. “Yes. So you all keep on saying, is that code for something?” The old man needed to sit down. They’ve never talked about her. They’ve never told him about her.

Tim was too tired to realize what Alfred did. He just called the boy rude, how could he not remember his other big sis. And it was the wrong thing to do. “I have another sister, and you didn’t tell me? Nobody did?!” The youngest boy snapped at his father before turning to look at everyone else.

Bruce- he was taking hit after hit tonight. He couldn’t come up with an argument to Slade, and he sure as hell couldn’t defend himself against Damian. The last time he remembered seeing you was when he ruined your garden. He slumped down in his chair, clutching the picture of your sad chubby face and the pitying look of the teacher, unable to take his eyes from it.

Where was he? He… He can’t defend himself. How could he? He didn’t even realize you were missing. How much has he missed? How many events and achievements has he ignored or brushed off? Did you leave that night, was that the last drop? He ignored his arguing kids, ignored how devastated Alfred looked… Jason said he was missing a bird. Bruce closes the open files on The Sorceress. “Tim, inform Dick and the others. Oracle. Call Red Hood. Now.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Lois sighed and turned to face her husband who was fully awake. “Ok, come on, confess.” Clark didn’t even flinch, not until she shook his shoulder. He side-eyed her before turning to also face her, sure that Jon was deeply asleep. “What I’m about to tell you should stay just between us.”

“The Sorceress is adopted, her dad is Bruce.” Lois raised a brow but before she could ask for more Clark continued. “I heard her brother and Lex inform the Immortal about it. The boy mentioned that, and I quote, the bastard didn’t pay attention to her for years and now has the gall to show up and act like he doesn’t know her. Lex was sure of the fact that Bruce didn’t even know that she had run away, to begin with, let alone how the kid he barely spent time with looked like anymore”

Lois took a while to soak in the information. “That’s…” She lies back on her back, staring at the ceiling like her husband once was. “If it’s true- it’s a new low for him. I'll look into it.” She looks at Clark. “Don’t let Jon hear that, he’ll-“

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“-and that’s what my dad said.” Jon, who was still in his pajamas, huffing from how fast he flew and talked, told Damian once they were in the security of the youngest Wayne’s room. The other boy just nodded. “Thank you for informing me, Jon. Make sure you do not repeat this to anyone else.”

“You should go back before your parents realize you’re missing.” Damian opened the window for the other teen. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not okay-“ Damian shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine, I’ll take care of this and give the information to someone who will be able to confirm what Superman heard."

The young super took a while before leaving, but the fear of his parents finding him gone was bigger. Damian on the other hand was already penning a letter. If the family kept such important information from him, he could too.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your day was- tiring. You may have overdone it a bit, studying for finals, the anxiety of giving your artwork in for the diploma, helping with clean up, training, helping Titan clean spaces for more housing- by the time you were done you were exhausted.

When the explosion went off, you didn’t even flinch, the text message from Mark saying “dnt wor abt it” was good enough for you. So, you just continued buying your little snacks and energy drinks for tomorrow and went on your way, floating as you simply couldn’t be bothered with walking.

If you were, perhaps, not as tired as you were, you would have been a little bit more concerned about the swarm of reporters or paparazzi, you couldn’t even try to figure it out. “Madame Sorceress! What is your relationship to Mr. Wayne?” and “Hey! Hey, over here! How do you know Bruce Wayne?!” and a lot of similar questions you couldn’t be bothered to answer. “Sorceress! Why do you have beef with Mr. Wayne?”

Now that stopped your movement. You slowly turned towards the person who asked, squinting at the redhead. “You want that in chronological or alphabetical order?” That seemed to trigger more questions and yelling, but your attention was on your ringing phone. “Sorry folk, I have to take this.” Sluggishly, you flew higher than they could be able to pick up with any listening device and answered. “Sup’ Red-“

Your brows furrowed. “Now they found out?... How much?” Jason just snorted. “B tried to interrogate me and when that didn’t work out, Alfred tried to tug at my emotions. Right under their nose and they’re still not seeing it.” You snort. “You’re creating yourself trouble. Just tell them, not like they can do anything now.” Jason knew, but this- the phone number, the texting, and silly pics, was something the other bats didn’t have access to. It was something only he had, that he didn't have to share with the others. He wants it to stay that way. “Nah, let them stew in it.” Jason snickered. “Whatever, Jailbird. Good night.” You roll your eyes, laughing when he yells that you weren’t supposed to know that.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger

A tiny little micro sneak peak of chapter 15 because I feel kind:

Jason was having a terrible week, starting with Ms. “I wouldn’t have been as forgiving if you didn’t die and came back kinder to me” Wayne- well- Grayson? He doesn’t know anymore- he’s close enough to just forging papers that say you’re his biological little sister just to fuck with Bruce.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 7 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.3k (jesus. this is the longest one yet)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, slightly nsfw themes, mentions of food, bakugou katsuki is bad at feelings, feelings—lots of 'em, the true calm before the storm, shit's about to go down!!!

a/n. we're so back, y'all!!! this one took me a while, i have to admit. it even got to a point where i thought i'd just leave this series unfinished for a plethora of reasons. but after clawing through a few sessions of barely being able to write anything, i was struck with the vision of how to get the chapter going in the middle of a massage lol. the rest was history. that said, i'd love to know your thoughts so far, so please don't be a stranger <3 (comments keep me going. btw. not to sound like a slut)

links. masterlist, ao3

You ended up not getting home until past 8 PM that Monday.

After you successfully used your quirk on Kirishima and Hiroto, resulting in the transfer of that fated scrap of paper containing the attack’s details, Kaminari insisted that you hang out after lunch and make the most of your day off until everybody relented. Bakugou was uncharacteristically quiet—you noted—even as the electric hero whisked the six of you away to the nearest mall where you shopped and visited a KTV spot afterward.

You didn’t expect to spend hours watching the four goof off and sing their hearts out while Bakugou sat silently to the side, although time passed by faster than you thought it would anyway. The group eventually parted ways at around 6 PM, after which you and Bakugou decided to eat at a ramen restaurant where you sat yourselves by the counter so you wouldn’t have to force conversation.

Hiroto shadowed the two of you the entire time, up to the instant when you and Bakugou entered a darkened spot in the outdoor parking lot to wait for the twin to message Kouki and have the old man teleport you back to headquarters. You didn’t have to wait for too long—you were gone and right back at the front of your bedroom in a matter of minutes, bug-less and cameras covered another minute after.

And only as you stripped off your going-out clothes for the day in the privacy of the bathroom did it sink in—how you actually did it.

You actually transmitted the message.

And as much as it fucking sucks, the most you can do now—at least until D-Day—is to put your faith in Kirishima and the rest of the pro-heroes who will be tasked with stopping this act of genocide altogether.

Easy enough…

Right.

The next day—Tuesday—starts typically as the others have transpired in the last two weeks-ish of living in the headquarters: violently woken by a twin’s knocking, then scrambling to seem like you were sharing the bed, to promptly getting ready for and having breakfast at the mess hall.

Just like how every day’s been in this supremacist hellhole, everything goes by like clockwork.

That is, up until Omiru walks up to your usual table just as you are about to take your last chug of water after downing your substantial plate of pancakes.

You peer at her from over the rim of your glass, cautious—and rightfully so. Beside you, Bakugou puts down his utensils and straightens up in his seat. Neither of you says anything, opting to let her speak first instead.

And when she finally does, she’s looking straight at no one but Bakugou.

“Follow me.”

At that, you glance at the pro-hero in question, who only shoots the twin a stern look before nodding curtly. You watch him as he gathers his tray and stands up, and you’re about to move and follow suit when Omiru’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Not you,” she spews pointedly. “Just him.”

From where you are half-sitting with your ass frozen mid-air, you blink at the woman. “What?”

“Masaki-san needs him at the private training facility, pronto,” comes her terse reply, sounding more impatient by the minute. “He’s not to be disturbed.”

Your face contorts in displeasure before you can think better against it. Then, schooling it into a more neutral expression, you shake your head as you finally straighten up, willing your voice to stay firm. “Whatever you have to say to him you can say to me, too.”

Omiru opens her mouth to most likely snap at you for wasting more and more of her time, but she doesn’t get to do that because you’re both silenced by a sudden hand on your forearm. You whip to look at Bakugou, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he nods again—only this time, at you—as if that was all the explanation you needed.

“It’s okay,” he offers, his voice low. “I’ll come and look for you by the time we’re done.”

You can only stare at him, tamping down the incredulity that’s creeping up your throat.

Since when did he decide to be Mr. Calm and Collected?

As much as you want to, you don’t question him, though, knowing it will cause more harm than good. You’re so close to the day of the operation, and the last thing you need is to blow your cover.

So instead, and with a wary heart, you nod back at him, before leaning in and pressing a quick peck on his cheek.

“Take care, babe,” you say timidly, grateful he took the kiss just now like a champ—with little to no faltering.

“I will,” comes his weirdly soft response, before he steps out of his seat and trails behind Omiru, leaving you and your tray of empty plates.

You move to tuck the stretchy fabric into the rest of the contorted arrangement you’ve got going on—folding your panties was the most you could think of doing to keep your mind off the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you the entire day, after all—and plop it on your pile of fresh undergarments.

Or at least, you were going to do that, when the door to your bedroom suddenly bursts open, and you startle so badly, that the neat stack of underwear crumbles like a poorly built Jenga tower on top of the bed.

You scramble to hide them behind you just as Bakugou emerges from the hallway, and the very first thing that registers when your eyes land on him is that he’s fucking drenched.

In sweat. Drenched in sweat.

And, to your chagrin, he must’ve noticed you gaping at him because his gaze drifts over to meet yours after he closes the door behind him. “What?”

You blink at him, suddenly yanked out of your dumb stupor. “Nothing—it’s just…” you trail off, now trying to ignore the weirdly scandalous way his wet shirt is clinging to his muscled torso. You knew his hero costume accentuated and therefore showcased a built body from the chance encounters about him in the news, but seeing it through an almost translucent cover-up…

“Just what?”

You gulp, bringing your eyes back up to meet his unnervingly scrutinizing ones.

…Why is he looking at you like that?

Instead of dwelling on the thought, though, you manage to voice out the question you and the imaginary mouse in your pocket are wondering. “W-why are you so… sweaty?”

Now, if he’s offended by how that came out just a breadth’s hair away from sounding disgusted, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he crosses the short distance between him and your small wardrobe and flings it open.

“I thought you were smarter than that, princess,” comes his casual reply, and you find yourself stiffening—not just at the nickname, but at what came before that.

You frown, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. “I don’t get how you’re being so nonchalant today,” you say so honestly you shock yourself, voice lowered out of instinct despite having made sure that there are no extra bugs in the room.

Whatever Bakugou expected for a response—it must’ve been anything but that—because he stops rifling through his clothes and whips to look at you, a mild expression of surprise written across his features.

But before he can say anything to that, you beat him to it. “What did they make you do, Bakugou?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but pauses before he can get a word out. You watch the man as he stands there for a second, the metaphorical gears in his head spinning loud enough that you can practically hear them. You can tell they’re still turning a beat later, even as he closes the wardrobe behind him and turns to fully face you.

“I—” he starts, hesitant, “I thought you would’ve figured.”

“Figured what?” You’re getting impatient now.

“That I was called on to start making the bombs.”

Oh.

The realization dawning on you must be evident in your profile because Bakugou nods as if in confirmation. “I was anticipating they’d call me in sooner or later, so I wasn’t surprised when that twin approached us during breakfast.”

Fuck, you feel stupid.

How you’re feeling is none of Bakugou’s business, though, so you will yourself to dip your head to show you understand. “I totally forgot about the bombs,” you admit.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you,” he turns again and resumes busying himself with the cabinets. “They did their research and found out my bombs are more explosive the fresher they are. Explains why they waited ‘til the last minute.”

Huh.

“I guess that also explains why you look like an over-glazed doughnut.”

That makes him bark out a laugh. “More like a wet dog, but I’ll take that.”

You’re about to say that no, he definitely looks more like an over-glazed doughnut, but then you remember you’d rather fail this mission and cause massive destruction before you go off admitting he looks…maybe just a tiny bit delectable in this state.

You’re back to avoiding the sight of…him—altogether—in silence, when Bakugou glances at you over his shoulder. “Can you pass me my towel?”

“Sure,” you say as you fetch it from where it’s hung across the couch’s backrest before padding back toward him.

You hand it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Now it’s your turn to stand somewhat awkwardly behind him as he finishes up gathering his change of clothes for the night. There’s one more thing you need to ask him.

Anytime now.

You take a sharp inhale just as he whirls to face you, expectant. You muster a small smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I was just gonna ask—they didn’t hurt you, did they? You were treated okay?”

Your stomach instantly drops when the expectant look just now morphs into a smirk. “I think you underestimate my ability to protect myself, princess.”

You feel yourself flame. “I—” you stammer, wildly caught off guard, and his grin widens. You then frown, resigned. “Come on, man, not cool.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, sounding far from apologetic, “‘m sorry. Though, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“That’s it,” you raise your hands in mock surrender, spinning to gather your folded underwear that are still scattered on the bed. “They can go ahead and snip off your balls, for all I care.”

“Damn, that escalated quickly.”

You only toss him a sarcastic smile as you take up the spot beside him, opening your tiny drawer and dumping the articles into them before he can get a closer glimpse. The last thing you need is for him to see your threadbare, granny panties.

Bakugou chuckles again, the indication of his mirth the last sound that echoes in the room before a quiet envelops the two of you, the atmosphere taking a sudden shift.

“How about you, huh?” he suddenly asks, almost making you jump. You raise an eyebrow at him, still not quite past his earlier teasing.

He doesn’t react with hostility, though, only shrugging in response. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” you parrot lamely, shocked at his query.

To your disbelief, he doesn’t roll his eyes or shoot you a derisive quip, only nodding—an unmistakable, serious glint in his crimson gaze. You gulp despite yourself.

“It was pretty much the same for me, I guess. Except there weren’t as many people around…”

You falter, debating whether or not you should tell him the more incriminating truth. But then you make the mistake of meeting his penetrating stare and then suddenly, it all comes tumbling out.

“I—I was worried about you.”

That takes Bakugou by surprise, his brows shooting up in a profound display of bewilderment. An abrupt pang of embarrassment shoots through you at the sight, and you scurry to save face.

“Looks like there was no need, though, considering how you’re joking around and being an ass and all,” you jest, taking the hoodie you were meaning to get from the rack and closing your side of the wardrobe.

“I—”

“Good night, Bakugou,” you cut him off, plopping yourself on the couch with your back turned against him, effectively shooting the conversation down.

Needless to say, you struggle to sleep that night.

As if she knew you fell into a fitted slumber and needed more goddamn sleep, Omiru was already up and banging at your door five minutes earlier than usual the morning after, ripping you out of your sluggish haze. It didn’t help that it was your turn on the couch that night—which, even after all this time of dozing there, still proved to be quite unforgiving to your neck and lower back, especially. Once you were all ready and had opened the door, though, your usual routine was done but not before a rundown on what was to happen that day. You were to pack your things and prepare to leave the headquarters by the time Bakugou was done producing the last batch of bombs.

She conveniently didn’t say when that was, opting to whisk Bakugou away instead.

So without any idea as to when you were making the move, you tried your best to keep busy—a task that proved to be herculean, seeing as how the number of people present had dwindled significantly, you could count them with just your fingers and toes.

It didn’t take you long to figure out why that was. The people who’ve gone—they were all teleported to their posts to prepare for tomorrow’s attack.

By batches.

Because, as it turns out, you were right. Kouki’s quirk does have a limitation.

He can only muster enough power to teleport a certain number of people—across a certain distance—a handful of times a day. It all depends on three factors: number, distance, and frequency.

And because Bakugou’s got important business as the organization’s very own human-bomb factory, you two will be transported later in the day as part of the last batch.

You mull over this newfound information—again and again, mainly because there really isn’t much else to do other than pack—until, unbeknownst to you, the clock on the wall strikes five. You jump from where you are seated on the sofa when, as if on cue, the door bursts open, revealing a yet again sweaty Bakugou, with Kouki and the twins tailing closely behind him.

“Just let me take a quick shower and finalize my stuff,” Bakugou offhandedly says, eyeing you as he picks up his towel, not wasting even a modicum of a second. “Then we’ll get going to my place.”

His what?

“Sorry?” you manage to ask, acutely aware of the panic that’s rising in your throat—fast.

Bakugou peers at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. But then he’s chuckling—oh so naturally, like your reaction was adorable to him rather than potentially detrimental to your covers—as he walks toward you.

And then he’s leaning down and into your space, a warning look in his eyes. You barely catch a glimpse of it before he leans even further and kisses your cheek, smiling as he pulls away.

“My place, baby,” he coos, “Where we’ll stay the night.”

“Here we are,” Kouki announces just as the floor beneath you rematerializes, light and markedly spotless as compared to the nicked, hardwood floors you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past weeks. You look up, a faint trace of dizziness clouding your mind still, although it’s quickly replaced by awe as you take in the rest of the room.

Dropping your luggage to the side, you make quick work of what can only be Bakugou Katsuki’s living space.

Well, it’s just what you’d expect from the guy. Purposively designed, no-nonsense, and exceptionally pristine.

And closer to the Prime Minister’s Office. At least, as compared to your more modest home, which is why you’re even here in the first place.

Regardless, you were about to compliment the man for being an outlier of the male population when you suddenly remember that you’re supposed to be well-acquainted with his high-rise apartment unit. You know, as his girlfriend?

You slam your mouth shut, just as Kouki steps forward and turns to face the rest of you like a commander in the military. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” he declares, his trademark haughtiness heavy in his tone. “The four of you, review your assignments and be ready by 6 AM sharp. I’ll pick you up here.”

Then, a pointed look toward you and Bakugou. “Don’t be late.”

And just as quickly as you teleported into the pro-hero’s unit, Kouki vanishes, leaving the two of you with the twins.

Silence.

“That man’s got a bug up his old ass, that’s for sure.”

You whip to face Bakugou, surprised and equal parts amused. He only tosses you a smug look, as if daring you to question him.

You don’t, similar to how you don’t dare spare either of the twins a worried glance.

“We should order,” Bakugou says not a minute later, effortlessly picking up your belongings and transferring them to an empty spot beside a door. “I cleared out the ref two weeks ago. ‘m out of groceries.”

“Sure,” you reply, seating yourself comfortably on his sofa like you’ve been here countless times. You sense all three pairs of eyes studying you as you burrow into the plush cushion, willing every neuron in your system to relax. “How ‘bout from that restaurant we went to with the squad? I’m craving some curry.”

“Aha,” Bakugou smirks as he walks over and throws his butt down way too close beside you. “So you did want to switch.”

You bristle, if not at being unceremoniously caught then at how he just slung an arm over the backrest behind you. “T–That’s beside the point,” you argue, before swiftly turning to Hiroto. “Can we have our phones for just a sec, please? We need to order.”

If Bakugou noticed your smooth segue slash redirection just now, he doesn’t point it out, instead letting you take your smartphones from the absurdly tall man without much of a hassle. You quickly place your orders—even asking the twins what they want despite how badly they’ve treated you since your first meeting at that dingy club.

You’re not a monster, after all.

They seem to think you are, though, because they blatantly ignore your kind offer.

Well, then. If they have a hard time falling asleep because of hunger later then that’s not your problem anymore.

Not even thirty minutes after ordering, your food arrives, and the twins end up allowing Bakugou to go down the lobby by himself to fetch the delivery. You almost groan when he walks through the door with the goods in tow, the strong waft of curry sauce filling the air and making your stomach churn in budding anticipation.

“You’re not helping your case, babe,” Bakugou teases as you excitedly pore over the takeout bag, reaching into it to grab your share and then his.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over this glorious smell,” you quip, which grants you a chuckle.

No more words are exchanged as you get started on your feast, too wiped out from today’s activities—Bakugou and his bomb production and your…well, trying not to go crazy—to even start, let alone maintain, a steady conversation. The room is silent aside from some slurping and quiet chewing here and there, with neither Omiru nor Hiroto saying anything to break the monotony.

And you think it must be that—the quiet—that spurs the abrupt observation mid-spoonfeed of how domestic everything is. You wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be eating a meal with Bakugou in his dining room—high schooler you definitely wouldn’t have—but as it turns out life’s got a funny way of pulling the rug from underneath you and messing with your head.

Just like these muddy ass feelings.

No, you think to yourself. Now’s not the time.

Not when you’re barely able to stomach your food, anyway. You were—are hungry—if the incessant rumbling of your abdomen since late afternoon was any indication—but you forgot you’ve been sickeningly nervous the entire day. Still, you force each bite down. The last thing you need is to be frail tomorrow.

“Here,” Bakugou reaches out from across the table a few moments later, “Give me your plate.”

“No,” you say as you lift the empty ceramic further from him, “Let me help.”

Your plea falls on deaf ears, however, because Bakugou leans closer and snatches the dish from your hands before you can even scream a strangled wait! You must be looking stupefied, because Bakugou only smirks at you as he quickly gathers the dishes, beaming with pride as if having a ridiculously wide wing span is something he earned rather than was unjustly given.

“Unfair…” you mumble as you resort to gathering the trash instead, collecting it in the bag that the delivery came in.

“Just leave it there,” he calls out from the kitchen a few feet away, scraping the scraps off the platters. And when he’s realized you’re not listening: “Babe.”

You lift your hands like you’re a contestant in Master Chef and Gordon Ramsey just called time’s up, a petulant frown on your face. “Jeez, I’m just trying to help.”

“And I’m trying to be a gentleman,” comes his snarky retort. You bite back the urge to snort. “Go unpack in the bedroom while I finish up here,” he orders, “I’ll be quick.”

Please don’t be is your visceral reaction, although you manage not to say it out loud. You need at least ten minutes—give or take—of being alone in his bedroom to come to terms with this precarious situation you’ve been dealt with. You manage to reply with a small ‘okay’ before heading over to grab your things, very much cognizant of the ticking clock.

But then it dawns on you that you don’t have any idea where his fucking bedroom is.

You pause mid-bend, pretending you’re studying the hard case of your luggage for non-existent scratches. You know that there are three doors, not counting the one Bakugou went in and out from to get your food. One has to lead to the common restroom, another to his home office slash gym that you’ve heard him talk about once during your lunches at the headquarters, which leaves the last one as his bedroom’s entryway.

Hurry up, your brain tells you. You’re getting suspicious.

Wait.

You let your mind flash back to a while ago, a few moments after you arrived here. ‘We should order,’ was what Bakugou said, as he conveniently hefted your bags to this spot here, which must be right beside…

The bedroom door.

Bingo.

You repress a sigh of relief when you’re greeted with the sight of a massive mattress upon turning the knob, wasting no time as you squeeze into the threshold with your belongings. You were about to shut the door behind you when a female voice calls out your name out of nowhere, and you startle. Turning to face who must’ve been Omiru, you’re quick to put on a nonchalant facade, as if she didn’t just scare you in your metaphorical boots.

“Your tracker,” she says flatly when you don’t move an inch.

“O–oh. Right.”

You stand in place as she goes over the motions while Hiroto does the same with Bakugou. You’ve gone through this so many times that you don’t even wince when she rips out the device, instead only giving her a quick thanks and a rare good night when she steps away.

She doesn’t say it back.

You take that as your cue to go back into Bakugou’s sleeping quarters, and only when the weighty slab of wood is closed behind you do you let out a heavy exhale, suddenly feeling the fatigue that’s been looming over you since last night in its entirety.

But then that’s immediately booted out with a shot of adrenaline when you see it.

The couch.

Or the lack thereof.

You're still standing there—mortified—by the time Bakugou enters the room with his stuff, shutting the door and consequently granting you your first semblance of privacy for the day.

“What,” he says more than asks a minute later, when you still haven’t said anything.

“There’s no couch,” you croak-whisper.

You were not about to sleep on the floor.

You were not about to share a bed with Bakugou, either.

Not after you’ve spent the last two weeks slaving over your high-maintenance sleeping arrangement.

“Relax, dumbass,” comes his fluid retort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man is finding this shit funny. “I have a futon.”

Turns out, he wasn’t lying—what feels like a huge burden lifted off your shoulders when he opens a cabinet to his right and pulls out a moderately thick cushion. You waste no time in assisting him, taking two corners while the pro-hero handles the other two, coordinating as you place the futon perpendicularly, right at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” you tell him when you’re done, dusting off your hands. “Do you have a blanket I can—”

“Too late,” he cuts you off, lightly diving into the mattress.

You gawk at the man. “Wha—”

“It’s your turn on the bed tonight,” he says as a matter of factly, not even bothering to look you in the eye. You splutter, but ultimately relent. As much as you want to argue, you do need some proper rest, especially after last night’s sorry attempt at recharging.

Thankfully, though, Bakugou doesn’t rile you up any further as you each go through your nightly routines and take turns in the built-in bathroom, careful not to invade each other’s spaces. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes and you’re already both plastered and tucked in your respective beds, the occasional noises from the traffic tens of floors below you the only thing filling the otherwise empty air.

But as it turns out, the getting ready for bed part isn’t the problem.

By the time it’s 10 PM, you’ve already tossed and turned roughly twenty times, agonizingly nowhere near asleep despite the luxurious bedding beneath your limbs. It’s after the 21st time, though, that you finally let your mind wander to the man on the floor and whether or not he’s asleep. He must be—having been tuckered out from producing explosives for two days straight. Still, your mind refuses to let go of the thought—brimming with boredom-fueled curiosity that’s begging for visual confirmation.

Sitting up carefully, you strain to peek at Bakugou. He’s been awfully quiet, you think to yourself.

Just a little bit more—

“Can’t sleep?”

You freeze. Shit.

“Uh, no,” you reply, aborting mission and lying back down as silently as possible. “Not really.”

“No shit. I heard you, the last twenty times.”

“Twenty-one,” you correct him. “But who’s counting?”

That earns you a laugh. “What, you scared?”

Your face reflexively contorts in offense, although it’s quick to fall when you realize you’ve actually no right to be offended. “If I told you I was, would that make me a loser?”

To your surprise, his answer is instant. “Nah.”

At that, your brows furrow. “That’s it? Just nah? No what do you think, princess, or some other equally lame taunt?”

“Oooh.” Jesus, you can practically hear him smirking. “You want me to call you princess?”

“There it is. Welcome back, Bakugou.”

A chuckle. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You snort. “So I’ve been told.”

Then, a pause.

“Hey,” you start again a few beats later, gaze fixed—unwavering—on the gray ceiling, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

You gulp. “Are you scared?”

This time, the answer is not as instant, but it appears to remain the same. “…No.”

“Really?” you ask, voice inadvertently teeming with incredulity.

You hear some rustling, like he’s shrugging against the bedsheets. “I’ve gone through much worse.”

Oh…

Right.

He did die and came out as one of the most important heroes of the Great War, alongside formidable people—the very people you tapped to help you just a few days ago. Maybe he’s right not to be scared.

“Is it my turn now?” he pipes up suddenly.

Huh? “Your what?”

“My turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were taking turns.”

“Well, we are now.”

You roll your eyes, comfortable in the knowledge that he can’t see you. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”

Now—don’t go ahead, is what you would have said, had you fucking known what he was going to say next.

“That day before winter break—” he begins, and you find yourself instantly tensing.

Fuck, no.

He huffs. “—You were gonna confess to me, weren’t ya?”

Fuck.

A deafening silence falls upon the room.

A silence that goes on for what must be a decade.

Then—

“…Is this some hidden camera prank or something?” you laugh dryly.

“No,” he says so seriously your eyes widen. “I was just…thinking about it.”

Well, fuck. Now he’s done it.

What are you supposed to do? Or say to that? Deny it and say, dude, no, you’re delusional? Or ask him where he got the motherfucking audacity and call it a day?

But then the strangest thing happens and an inexplicable feeling washes over you, one that is too nostalgic it’s almost painful.

Ah, yes.

You remember this one.

It wasn’t the first one to show up in the scene, but it was quick to envelop every other emotion afterward, lingering with you until the soothing balm that is time did its magical work and helped you forget.

The regret of not being able to admit your feelings.

And now, a full ten years later, you’re suddenly thrust with the opportunity to finally do what you failed to do then.

You don’t even have to think about it.

“Yes,” you rasp out, heart thrumming frantically against your chest. “I mean, the answer is yes, I was going to. Luckily you didn’t let me get to the embarrassing part, though, huh?”

“Look, I—”

“If you’re gonna apologize,” you cut him off, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Bakugou. That thing’s in the past now. I’ve moved on, as fucking cheesy as it sounds.”

You then chuckle, ignoring the way your hands are stubbornly shaking. “That was just a silly high school crush, anyway.”

“Yeah, well—” he clears his throat, “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it. But…I do still want to apologize, though. For that first day, around two weeks ago.”

“What about it?”

“You don’t remember? I was an ass to you.”

First day? You don’t—

But then it all comes rushing to you—the intimidating looks, the backhanded remarks, the outright insulting comments.

He sniggers. “You just remembered now, didn’t you?”

You blanch. “I—”

“Don’t try to be nice,” he preempts. “I know I fucked up. It’s just—it was a lot to take in, and I took it out on you.”

He heaves a heavy sigh. “First it was having my past rehashed, and then when I met you I got reminded of how arrogant I was as a kid and it just felt like—”

“A slap to the face?”

Another huff. ���Exactly.”

You smile—genuinely—this time wishing you were face to face so he could get a good view of it. You try to let it show in your voice instead.

“Thank you for telling me, Bakugou. Apology accepted.”

A sigh of relief. You feel your smile grow bigger.

“Now go to sleep, dumbass,” he spits, the vulnerability from just a second ago long gone, now replaced by his signature snark. “You heard the old geezer. Big day tomorrow.”

You can’t help it—you laugh.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes @homeless-clown @sk8wh33l @jungkookslittlecarrothoe @jax-the-oregonian @shosuki @reisore @babylambdietcoke @sleepyyhabii @adherethecomingofage @hakvyxo @squishybabei @gin-n-chronic-illness | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe @biancatomlinson @reads-stuff-quietly | @js-favnanadoongi @stxrrielle @panikk-attackkk @lotusstarr @ordola @simpforeveryone @typsichryle @arsonfrogger | @vitoshi @floverisland @confusedmomfriend @poemzcheng @cheezemanz @cax-per | @rorel1a @astolary @trashyforashy @sunaraii @reisore | @beepboopcowboy @kyluskaye | @moonz33

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ONE ━━ Move-in Day

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.8K

❀ ━ warnings: none except this shits so dialogue heavy it’s almost sickening

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: hiii so this is my new series!!! i lowkey hate this chapter SO much i’ve rewritten it three times and can’t get it the way i want so i’m just publishing it as is. this fic is going to be much more light-hearted than take me to church (lol), big big slow burn and if i get it right almost reminiscent of a romcom. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter more than i did LOL

THE EARLY afternoon light filters in through the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows across the apartment floor. Paige stands in the middle of her new room, surveying the chaos of boxes, bags, and half-assembled furniture. It’s good to be back on campus—she’s been away for a few weeks, visiting her dad and Drew in Maryland and then her mom and siblings in Montana, and while she’s glad to have seen them, she can’t help but feel a pull toward the UConn, being with the team, practicing, basketball, all the above.

Her mind buzzes with excitement, anticipation for the new year, the new faces, the new challenges. She’s already mentally putting together how the season might go, how she’ll keep pushing herself harder, how she’s ready to lead her team. It feels like the first time in a long time that she’s been able to focus purely on basketball without the stress or rehab and recovery and she’s glad.

Her roommate, Josephine Jacobson—Jo—isn’t around yet. She’s a freshman, a sweet girl, the type that bleeds sunshine but can pull the demon out of herself on the court. Paige knows all about her, of course—how she’s a natural point guard, the number one recruit in the nation, will probably be the future of their team—but they’ve never really been close. Haven’t had the chance to be. But, as always, Paige feels optimistic about it. God put them together for a reason. After all, her past roommates have become some of her best friends. Nika and Evina her freshman year, and then Amari and Dorka last year. It just works out that way. Basketball bonds people, and she’s sure this year will be no different.

She moves one of the boxes to the side, careful not to knock over a stack of them as she does so. She arranges a pile of sweatshirts and sweatpants, making sure everything’s folded as neatly as she’s able to before moving on to the next task. This year, she’s determined to keep things organized, less chaos, more control. She wants her space to actually look nice, not like she’s some sort of slob. (She’s not sure how long this goal is going to last for).

Aubrey strolls in, another one of Paige’s boxes tucked into her hip. She’s already unpacked herself, having got here yesterday, and she’d offered to help Paige when she got here a little under an hour ago. Aubrey opens the box, seeing the bright purple comforter inside.

“Okay, P! I see color!” she says, a teasing grin on her face. “You finally given up on making your room look like a prison cell?”

Paige laughs, rolling her eyes. “Aye, my standards have rose this year. No more living in a box.” She gestures to the several LeBron and basketball posters filtering the floor in the corner of the room. “Decorating it nice this time, trust.”

Aubrey shakes her head, clearly amused. “Yep, I’m sure Bron’s face being the first thing you see when you walk in is gon’ make it real cozy.”

Paige just laughs again, stepping back to decide which corner of the room she wants her bed in. She tilts her head, looking back before deciding it’ll go best directly across the mirror-closet. For certain reasons she’d probably rather keep to herself for now.

“Who’re you rooming with again?” Paige asks, looking over at Aubrey, who’s taken the liberty of placing the millions of shoes Paige owns on the top shelf of her closet.

“Carol and Lili. It’s gonna be chill, for sure.” She shrugs before her eyes gleam a little, smirking at Paige. “Azzi’s gonna have it rough this year, though. Putting her with two freshmen is crazy work. They hyper as hell.”

Paige shrugs a little as she moves over to her bed. “Eh, Ines seems more quiet if anything. Ice, though, yeah. Azzi’ll be fine, though. She deals with me enough and I’m prolly just as bad.”

“Worse,” Aubrey corrects.

Paige rolls her eyes, opting to ask, “Can you help?” instead of responding to the jab. Aubrey nods, moving from her spot by the closet to stand next to Paige before the bed. “Where d’you want it?” she asks.

“Just in that corner,” the blonde responds, nodding her head to the other side.

Aubrey nods again and strides to the opposite side of the bed, the one near the wall. It’s a queen, so it’s too wide for just the two of them to carry, meaning they’ll have to just push it. Paige sighs before starting, her muscles straining slightly as she shoves her bed across the floor, the bed frame scraping noisily against it. Aubrey’s beside her, grabbing the other side with a grunt, their movements in sync but still awkward, both of them trying to be careful not to knock anything over or break anything.

“So,” Aubrey starts, breaking the rhythm of their movements, “what d’you think about yours? Jo. She’s a freshie, too.”

Paige doesn’t pause, her hands gripping the bed frame as she shifts it a few more inches. She’s thinking more about the layout of the room—where she wants things. After a few seconds, she shrugs, glancing over at Aubrey. “She’s cute,” Paige says simply, her voice light as she looks for the right angle to fit the bed by the wall.

Aubrey pauses. For a second, Paige doesn’t even notice—she’s too busy pushing the bed into position. But then Aubrey let’s our a low, exaggerated breath and Paige glances up, noticing the way she’s studying her with a raised brow.

Aubrey gives her a behave type of look. “You cannot fuck Jo Jacobson,” she tells Paige, slow and deliberate, like she’s really trying to get the blonde to understand this.

Paige’s head whips toward her, eyes wide, her grip slipping off the bed frame. “What?” she asks, voice higher than she intends. She looks at Aubrey, still not quite sure if she’s hearing her right. “What are you even talking ‘bout?”

Aubrey just stares, the expression on her face unwavering. “I’m saying, you can’t fuck her. Like, seriously, don’t even think about it.”

The words hit Paige like a slap, but it’s not the harshness of them that makes her heart skip. It’s the fact that Aubrey said it with such absolute certainty, like it was a rule she needed to lay down for Paige.

The blonde furrows her brows as she process what Aubrey just said. She opens her mouth, trying to make sense of it. “Aubrey, what? I—” she stops herself, trying to piece things together. The more she thinks about it, the weirder it all sounds. She barely knows Jo—hell, Jo hasn’t even gotten to campus yet. She’s literally just a sweet freshman, one of the new players. Of course, Paige isn’t thinking about anything remotely romantic with her. Not at all.

She can’t even fathom it.

“Aubrey, bro, are you seriously suggesting that I… What?” Paige repeats, still not believing it. “I—I don’t—no, no, that’s not even a thing.”

Aubrey exclaims, “You just said she was cute! You can’t be doing that, P.”

Paige shakes her head, laughing a little in disbelief, clearly thrown by the whole insinuation. “Yeah, like in a I-wanna-pinch-your-cheeks kind of cute,” she says, mimicking the motion with her hands. “Like she’s sweet, not like she’s fine and I wanna hit that. She’s a freshman and our teammate, bro—you know I ain’t do stuff like that.”

Aubrey, unfazed by Paige’s defense, just raises an eyebrow. “Ion know, your hook-ups have been kinda wild lately.”

Paige rolls her eyes as she reaches down, grabbing the corner of the bed and pulling it another inch into place. “That’s different,” Paige tells her. “That was like, months ago—”

“Three weeks ago,” Aubrey interrupts, but Paige doesn’t bother listening.

“—and that wasn’t even serious. I wouldn’t do that shit with Jo. She’s pretty, but—”

She cuts herself off, realizing how that could sound, and immediately backpedals.

“But she’s a teammate,” Paige finishes, nodding as though it’s the most logical conclusion. Which, it is. “I don’t see her like that. She’ll prolly be like a little sister or something. Seriously, you ain’t gotta worry about this.”

Aubrey doesn’t seem entirely convinced but just shrugs it off with a nonchalant wave. “Alright, alright. Just makin’ sure. Senior duties and all,” she says.

Paige rolls her eyes, nudging the girl in her ribs. Aubrey hisses, and nudges the blonde back. And then they return their attention to the bed, giving it one final tug, making sure it’s aligned just right.

Paige pulls away, taking a look with her hands on her hips. The room looks good, feels right. A good place to spend her next year. And even though she doesn’t know what that year might bring—how the team will play, how her body will hold up—it feels like everything’s in its place for now.

(Minus Aubrey’s odd assumptions, that is).

JO’S STOMACH flutters with a mixture of excitement and nerves as the car pulls into the parking lot right in front of what will be her new home. Her gaze drifts over the apartment building, taking in the sprawling complex that will be hers for the next year. The sun is high, casting everything in a golden glow, and it’s one of those perfect, early summer days—the kind that makes everything feel new and fresh. This is it. She’s finally here. UConn; her dream since forever. The place she’s watched on TV for as long as she can remember, watching them win championship after championship. And, now, it’s real. She’s actually here.

Her dad pulls into a parking space, the car humming to a stop, and Jo takes a deep breath, fighting back the lump in her throat. It’s not that she’s scared; it’s more that it feels huge. This is the beginning of everything. Her heart races a little, her palms tingling. She’s excited—so excited—but it’s all a little daunting, too. The whole what if she doesn’t belong here, what if it’s not everything she’s ever dreamed of echoes in her head, but she knows better than to entertain those thoughts. Despite this always being her dream school, she made sure to explore her options before committing. And, after everything, Storrs was somehow her favorite.

But it’s still a little hard to ignore the tiny voice in the back of her mind that whispers doubts. At least she has familiar faces here—her teammates. She can’t imagine coming here alone, without knowing anyone at all, without that built-in support system. It helps, knowing that the people she’s going to spend the next chapter of her life with are familiar faces, not strangers. Still, there’s a big difference between practice and living together, between seeing someone for a few hours on a court and sharing an apartment with them. The whole thing feels a little surreal.

“Ready, sunshine?” her dad asks, giving her a side-eye as he shuts off the car. His voice has a teasing, comforting quality that always makes Jo feel like everything will be okay.

Jo doesn’t answer right away, just smiles nervously, nodding as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “I think so,” she says, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

Her mom grins at her from the front seat, practically glowing with excitement. “Come on, it’s gonna be so great, Joey.”

Jo laughs softly, the sound easy and light, nodding. They get out of the car, opening the trunk, and Jo begins unloading her bags and boxes—the millions of them. She didn’t mean to over-pack, but somehow, her whole life had been crammed into suitcases and boxes. Her parents each grab as much as they can hold, but even the three of them can’t carry everything, so they head toward the building, the weight of it all already starting to feel like more than it should.

The hallway inside the building smells like fresh paint and clean floors, and it has that crisp, cool air of a place that’s seen its fair share of new beginnings. Jo’s parents chat with each other, but Jo can hardly keep her thoughts straight. She’s here, really here, and she’s not sure if it’s excitement or fear that’s making her heart beat so fast.

They trudge up the stairs together—her dad leading, her mom picking up the rear, and Jo in the middle. The stairs creak beneath their weight, and every step takes them closer to her new life. She tries not to think about how much this move means, how much it’s going to mean—because that’s just the kind of thing that could make her go a little crazy.

When they finally reach her apartment, Jo’s the first to pull out her keys. She opens the door, excitement bubbling in her chest, but as she’s about to step inside, someone is trying to step out, bumping right into her.

Paige.

She steadies Jo with a hand on her shoulder, looking down at the girl—she’s only got a couple inches on Jo, but it certainly feels like a lot more right now—saying, with a little bit of surprise in her tone, “Oh, hi, Jo.”

Jo stills for just a split second. She’s met Paige several times—throughout her recruitment, last year when she and Ice and Yanna were here for First Night, all the games she attended in between—but, for Jo, it’s still a little like, wow, okay, hi Paige Bueckers. She’s admired Paige and her game for years, so yeah, maybe she’s a little starstruck every time she sees her. But she realizes just as quickly how that needs to change immediately because they are going to be living together for the next year. She’s here for a reason, not to be starry-eyed over the blonde girl in front of her.

“Hey!” Jo manages, flashing Paige a bright, warm smile that’s always her go-to move, even if her heart is racing.

Paige’s gaze shifts from Jo’s face to her parents, then down to the ridiculous amount of luggage they’re all holding, and her eyebrows raise. “Wow,” she says with a laugh. “Over-packer?”

Jo laughs, too, feeling some of that initial awkwardness beginning to seep away. “This isn’t even all of it,” she admits, shifting her weight a little. She realizes how she’s being a little rude, not introducing her mom and dad, so she gestures to them and says, “These are my parents. And this is Paige.”

Jo’s parents exchange polite hellos, nodding toward the blonde, who’s already stepping aside to let them through.

“Lemme help you with that,” Paige offers before anyone can protest, already lifting a couple of boxes from Jo’s mom. It’s clear she’s used to helping out—comfortable in this setting—and Jo appreciates it, even though she knows she can manage. But Paige’s energy is infectious, and she can’t help but feel comforted by the ease in the older girl’s presence.

“Thanks,” Jo says gratefully. “It’s a lot of stuff.”

Paige shrugs, a casual smile on her face. “It’s all good. We’ve got time. I’ll help you get settled.”

The four of them make their way into the apartment, and Jo’s parents immediately make a beeline for Jo’s bedroom to drop off the bags they’re carrying. They work together, setting everything down in a neat pile before Jo’s mom turns to her with a warm smile.

“We’ll go get the rest of it,” she tells her daughter. “You start unpacking, ‘kay?”

Jo nods, trying to hide the way her heart sinks a little at the idea of being left alone for the first time in a new place.

But then she realizes, she’s not alone. Paige is still here.

Jo takes a deep breath, then steps further into her room, already eyeing the empty bed and the space where she’s going to have to build her new life. The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly it’s just the two of them. For a moment, neither says anything. It’s a little awkward, that first silence between two almost-strangers who are about to be more than that—roommates, teammates, friends.

Paige rubs the back of her neck, probably feeling it too. Clearly, though, she doesn’t like that, and Jo watches as she lazily plops down into the standard-issue desk chair, making herself at ease. She grins at Jo, saying with a casualness that somehow manages to be both disarming and mildly intimidating, “So, how was the drive?”

Jo shrugs a little, leaning slightly on the bed frame. “Not bad,” she replies. “Boston’s only like an hour and a half away.”

“Oh, yeah,” Paige says, nodding her head in almost mock realization. “New England girl. I knew that.”

Jo grins, bemused and already starting to feel more comfortable. “Born and raised.”

“Nice,” Paige says, dragging the word out a little. “You got the accent and everything?”

“I don’t know, do I sound like I do?” Jo asks, laughing softly.

Paige’s grin widens as she spins in the chair. “Hmm,” she hums, eyes narrowing teasingly. “I dunno, talk more.”

Jo laughs again, looking at the blonde with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “What do you want me to say?” she questions, tilting her head as another small giggle bubbles in her chest.

“Like, something with an R. That’s what a Boston accent is, right?” Paige shrugs, gummy smile on full display and eyebrows raised. She leans forward a little, before saying with a terrible attempt at a Boston accent, “Park the car in Harvard yard?”

Jo can’t help but outright snort at that, stomach constricting as she laughs at the blonde. Paige laughs, too, scrunching her nose as she does so. “Oh my God, you did not,” Jo manages between giggles, eyes crinkling a little.

“I did,” Paige replies. “Now you gotta! Lemme hear the accent!”

“You’re not real,” Jo mumbles, shaking her head, in half disbelief at the pure unseriousness of Paige Bueckers. But it’s nice—that she’s already making her feel so comfortable. Jo sighs, before saying indignantly, “Park the car in Harvard yard.”

Paige claps her hands together, laughing loudly as she exclaims, “You definitely have one!”

Jo’s jaw drops a little, defending, “No one has ever told me I have an accent, you definitely just need your ears checked.”

Paige grins, shaking her head, saying, “Nah, it’s there. I heard it.”

“Fine,” Jo relents, rolling her eyes. “You should hear my dad, though. It’s really thick sometimes.”

Paige leans forward on the chair again, eyes lighting up with a bit of interest. “I gotta hear it. Maybe I’ll ask him to say it, too.”

Jo just shakes her head, rolling her eyes again as the corners of her mouth twitch upward despite herself. There’s something about Paige that makes it hard to stay guarded—not that Jo was trying to. She’s just… larger than life in a way that could definitely be overwhelming, but there’s such an ease to her too, a confidence that feels oddly inviting.

“Are you finished unpacking?” Jo asks, breaking the newfound silence as she gestures vaguely toward the blonde’s room behind the door.

Paige shrugs, her expression somewhere between proud and sheepish. “Mostly. Aubrey and I did it this morning, but I definitely cut corners. If you open any of the drawers in there, so messy. I got lazy.”

Jo raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking up. “Efficient, though.”

“Exactly,” Paige says, pointing at her. “You get it.”

And then the easy rhythm between them is interrupted by the loud, unmistakable growl of Jo’s stomach. Her cheeks flush immediately as Paige’s grin spreads wider, her laugh concerns again breaking the quiet of the room.

“Hungry?” she teases, spinning the chair one last time before stopping to slouch backward against it.

“Ugh, yeah,” Jo groans, pressing a hand to her stomach. “I haven’t eaten since, like, breakfast.”

“Same,” Paige says with a nod, pushing herself up out of the chair and stretching her arms over her head. “I think we’re all gonna get pizza tonight, though. Go up to Nika’s and hang out. She’s with Yanna and Amari. You’re coming, of course.”

Jo grins, raising her eyebrows as she says teasingly, “I don’t have a choice?” It’s just a joke, because, obviously, even if she did, she’d go either way.

Paige gives her a little look, narrowing her eyes jokingly as she leans forward, flicking Jo on the arm and telling her, “Absolutely not.”

Before she can respond, there’s a knock at the doorframe and Jo’s mom’s voice floats in cheerfully, “Look who we found!”

Jo turns to see her parents standing in the doorway, her dad carrying a suitcase while her mom holds the door open for someone else—none other than Ice Brady. Jo knows Ice well, the two of them having gotten easily close during different USA basketball gigs and through their shared commitment process. Ice grins broadly, a laundry basket balanced on her hip—clearly, she’s been put to work.

“Aye, hey guys!” she calls out, stepping into the room with an energy that matches her nickname—cool, but in a warm and easy way.

“Of course they roped you into helping,” Jo says, laughing as Ice sets the basket down with a playful groan.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she says, shaking her head playfully as she glances back at Jo’s parents who just smile at her, shrugging.

Ice then leans in, giving Jo a little side-hug as she says, “Hey, JoJo.”

Jo rolls her eyes, swatting at Ice’s arm. “I told you, no calling me that.” While Paige, who’s now leant casually against the desk, exclaims, “Oh my God, like JoJo Siwa.”

Ice laughs saying, “Exactly,” as she leans over and daps Paige up with a grin. Jo gives both of them little glares, saying, “No, I am not JoJo Siwa! Jo or Josephine, nothing else.”

Ice shrugs, sniggering, “JoJo.”

“Isuneh!”

THE AIR in the apartment is warm and filled with the hum of overlapping voices. Paige sits tucked into the corner of the small couch, her legs crossed under her, a half-eaten slice of pizza balanced on a paper plate in her lap. To her right, Dorka’s mid-sentence, recounting some story from her summer that has Aaliyah laughing hard enough to cover her mouth with her hand.

It’s the first real team hangout of the year, the kind where the bonds for the season start to form, where they begin to really get to know the new guys. The absence of last year’s seniors—Christyn, Olivia, E—feels strange but not exactly heavy; just like a space waiting to be filed rather than a void that can’t be. Paige glances across the room at Lou, Azzi, and Ines, sprawled across the other couch. Azzi leans back, her ankles crossed on the coffee table, her focus more on her phone than the conversation, but Paige knows her well enough to see that she’s listening. Lou’s animated hands keep catching Paige’s eye as she gestures through some story, and Ines is nodding along, face lighting up with her adorable freshman-ness.

Paige’s gaze then drifts downward, landing on the scene on the floor. Jo is half-laying across Caroline’s legs, her dark hair spilling against Caroline’s leggings. Caroline, ever the mother, absently runs her fingers through Jo’s hair while chatting with Aubrey. Faintly, Paige is aware that Jo and Caroline know each other well, have been friends for years. Both grew up in Massachusetts, not far from one another, same AAU team if Paige’s memory serves her correctly.

The new guys—the freshmen and Lou—all already fit in well. Lou and Ines have already created easy bonds with each other and Azzi. Ice is playfully bickering with Nika and Amari at the table, the three of them leaning into a conversation that seems half-joking, half-serious. Jo’s a little quiet, looking more thoughtful than anything, but Paige can tell she’s completely comfortable as she lays on Caroline and listens to her steady stream of chatter. Yanna, too, though she’s also on the quiet side, pitches into Aubrey and Caroline’s conversation every now and then.

Paige shifts her focus back to her plate, taking another bite of pizza. It’s bland and overly chewy, a far cry from what she’s been craving. She doesn’t say anything, though. The conversation flows around her, easy and light, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional clink of someone setting a cup down too hard.

“God, this tastes like cardboard,” Ice announces suddenly, holding up her slice with a look of exaggerated disgust.

“Yeah, it’s… not good,” Jo says with a little grimace, Paige watching as she glances at her half-eaten slice that she hasn’t touched in probably ten minutes.

“Tastes like cafeteria food,” Yanna says from her spot on the bar stool, though Paige can see that she’s eaten all of hers.

“Worse than cafeteria food,” Azzi chimes in, eyes still on her phone, tone a little dry. “School pizza pretends to have flavor.”

Nika nods at everyone’s words, looking like the pizza situation might as well be a tragedy. Which, to Nika, Paige knows it kind of is. “Yeah, bro, we gotta go to New Haven if we want any god pizza. It’s my biggest disappointment in life.”

Paige grins at that, leaning back into the couch as she watches the exchange. It’s funny to her how every year, without fail, the new players get hit with the reality of Storrs’ subpar pizza options. “Y’all gotta get used to it.”

Ice groans, and Paige laughs a little as she contradicts herself and takes another big bite of pizza.

Jo glances up from her spot on the floor, dark brows arching in amusement. “Nika, New Haven’s an hour away.”

“Worth it,” Nika insists, hands slicing through the air for emphasis. “Best pizza in the country, hands down.”

“Eh, debatable,” Ice fires back, smirking.

“Debatable?” Nika repeats, looking scandalized. “’Kay, no, see, now you gotta go. I’m takin’ you to Pepe’s or Sally’s, and then we’ll talk.”

The debate spirals from there, the room splitting into factions—those who have been to New Haven and swear by it, and the skeptics like Ice who clearly need convincing. Paige inputs a couple times, but other than that continues eating her cardboard pizza, taking the time to listen, which she doesn’t usually do. The topic quickly starts to feel like it’s been beaten to death, but that doesn’t stop Nika from gesturing wildly as Ice shakes her head, arms crossed like she’s already over it.

Paige’s gaze shifts from them to Jo and Caroline, who are directly in front of her across the room. There’s a mischievous tilt to Jo’s smile as she watches Ice and Nika, and Paige feels a pang of curiosity. Jo looks like she’s got something to say, and sure enough, a beat later, she interrupts with a voice that carries just enough weight to make everyone turn her way.

“Ice,” Jo interrupts, her tone deceptively innocent, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Let’s quit talking about pizza and talk about your new little goal you’ve got.”

The room collectively seems to perk up at that. Paige sits up straighter, interest piqued. She glances at Ice, who immediately shoots Jo a warning glare.

“No,” the Brady girl says firmly, voice clipped.

The refusal only makes Paige more curious. She leans forward, elbows on her knees now, eyes wide with a playful insistence. “Oh, no, you gotta tell us now,” she exclaims, grin wide.

Aaliyah, beside her, says, “Yeah, Ice, don’t leave us hangin’!”

Ice shakes her head, clearly unwilling to budge. But Jo, apparently unfazed by the glare the Brady girl has set on her hard, sits up slightly, her smile turning almost devilish. “Ice said she wants a sneaky link by next week. It’s her number one goal now that she’s on campus!”

The reaction is instant and explosive. Loud laughs and little screams of exclamation erupt from everyone as Ice’s face twists into a mix of betrayal and outrage. Paige finds herself laughing so hard she has to lean back into the couch, her head tipping toward the ceiling as her shoulders shake.

“Jo!” Ice exclaims, her voice a biz of exasperation and disbelief. She grabs a napkin from the table and chucks it at Jo, who barely flinches.

Caroline picks the napkin up and tosses it toward the trash can, her tone scolding and motherly as she says, “Ice.”

But Ice doesn’t listen. Instead, she points an accusing finger at Jo, her eyes narrowing. “JoJo, you’re such a traitor.”

Jo’s grin only widens. She shrugs, looking utterly unbothered as she settled back into Caroline’s lap. “Hey, we’re all willing to help you find a fuck buddy, don’t you worry.”

Ice glares even harder and it makes Jo laugh again. Paige can’t help but let her gaze linger on the brunette, her chest still tight from laughing. Jo’s giggles are unrestrained, her cheeks flushed with amusement. There’s something about it that Paige finds infectious. The way Jo lights up when she’s laughing feels almost magnetic, like she’s carrying her own little pocket of sunshine.

“Oh, Ice,” Nika says, pulling Paige’s gaze away from Jo. There’s a familiar glint in Nika’s eyes. “If you need help finding a sneaky link, Paige is the expert. She’s got you covered.”

Paige’s mouth falls open, eyes widening as she stares at her twin. “Yo!” she exclaims, sitting up.

Amari snorts from her spot at the table, her expression one of barely-constrained amusement. “P, be for real.”

Azzi, who hasn’t looked up from her phone in a while, adds in without missing a beat, “Paige is a man-whore, if that wasn’t obvious.”

Paige gasps dramatically, her hand clutching her chest like she’s been mortally wounded. “I ain’t even a man!”

“You act like one,” Caroline chimes in, voice calm but teasing.

Paige just stares at all of them, her mouth slightly open, as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Man, what’s all this gangin’ up on me for?” she asks, her tone half-offended, half-playful.

Eventually, the room’s energy slowly shifts as the teasing dies down. Laughter fades into soft chuckles, and everyone starts settling back into their spots. Paige stretches her legs out again, her socked feet brushing lightly against the coffee table. The buzz of the conversation has left her grinning, though her cheeks still feel warm from all the ribbing. She’s content to let the chatter flow around her now, her focus drifting as she scrolls on Instagram until Aaliyah leans forward from the couch and throws a spark back into the room.

“Jo,” Aaliyah says, tone playful, “since you were so quick to expose Ice, you got anyone you’ve been wanting?”

Paige perks up at that, curious despite herself. Sue her if she’s nosy. She glances toward Jo, who’s still sprawled on the floor, her head now resting against Caroline’s knee. Jo’s expression doesn’t change much, maybe softens slightly.

“No, she doesn’t,” Ice says quickly, annoyance lacing her voice. Paige can tell it’s because she can’t humiliate Jo like she’s just exposed her. Ice gestures at the Jacobson girl with her pizza crust like she’s making a point. “Girl’s already met her damn husband.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the certainty in Ice’s tone. She watches Jo carefully now, noting the way a faint smile tugs at her lips. It’s not the cheeky grin she’s been wearing most of the night; it’s something softer, quieter, like the thought of this so-called future husband of hers is enough to soothe her, ground her.

Amari leans forward from her chair and tilts her head. “Aw, Jo, you have a boyfriend?”

Jo nods, that same small, telling smile still on her face. Paige notices how her cheeks turn just the slightest shade pinker. It’s… different. Softer, almost vulnerable.

Damn, Paige thinks, watching her. She must really love that boy.

The room seems to erupt again, this time not in laughter but in a cascade of questions and exclamations. Nika asks, “How long you been dating?”

Jo shifts a little, clearly embarrassed, mumbling, “Eighth grade.”

Paige feels her eyes widen, almost so wide they might as well pop out of their sockets. It’s impressive—a middle school relationship lasting that long.

But then Caroline adds with a knowing smile, “Yeah, but you’ve loved him since you were, like, four, Jo.”

Jo’s face flushes deeper, and she buries it briefly against Caroline’s leg before mumbling, “Yeah, we’ve been next-door neighbors our whole lives.”

The whole team seems to aw at that, exclaiming how cute. “Jo, that’s like a movie!” Azzi says softly, a hopeless romantic. Paige has to admit they’re not wrong. It’s that perfect, golden sort of story people write novels about—the girl-next-door falling for the boy-next-door.

Except Paige doesn’t really think it’s all that cute. Maybe it’s because she’s too gay, but she doesn’t get how anyone could be into a boy, especially for that long. It just seems… exhausting. Still, she keeps her mouth shut, letting the conversation roll on without her. It’s uncharacteristic.

Ines, eyes wide with interest asks, “What’s his name?”

“Asher,” Jo answers, voice soft but steady.

Dorka, next to Paige, claps her hands together. “Let me see a picture, Jo!”

Jo hesitates for a second, her blush depending, but then she sits up and pulls her phone out of her pocket. She unlocks it, turning the screen toward Dorka—and toward Paige, who can’t help but sneak a glance.

Paige hates to admit it, but it’s… cute. The way Jo’s looking at him in the picture—it’s soft, unguarded, like the rest of the world could fall away, and she wouldn’t care as long as he’s there.

Paige doesn’t know if she’s jealous that Jo has a love like that and she doesn’t, or if she’s disgusted by the whole prospect.

Dorka coos, smile wide. “So cute!”

Jo laughs, a little bashful now, and Aubrey pipes up from her spot on the barstool by the kitchen. “Where’s he going to school?”

“Penn State,” Jo answers.

Paige catches the the slight shift in Jo’s posture, the way she tenses a little, the way her smile falters ever so slightly. That kind of distance is hard, especially for a young relationship.

Paige leans back into the couch, her gaze still lingering on Jo as the conversation continues. She wonders if they’ll last. Not in a mean way—Jo clearly loves the guy—but Paige has seen it happen before. Everyone has. High school sweethearts falling apart once they hit college, the distance and the changes proving too much.

Still, something about the way Jo smiled at him in that photo makes Paige hesitate. Maybe they’ll be one of the lucky ones.

Or maybe it’s not her place for even thinking about it at all.

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | chapter 2

previous | chapter 2 | next

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: your usual swearing, mentions of smoking. (lmk if i missed any)

꩜ WC: 4.5K

꩜ A/N: I wanted to post chapter 2 before going back to school so here it is a little treat for y’all, and again tysm for the support on last chapter <3 I’m enjoying writing this so much and I’m building up the tension so bear with me…

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of a city that never fully slept. Golden morning light seeped through the curtains, cutting soft lines across the couch where Ellie slowly blinked awake—head foggy, mouth dry, and back a little stiff from the awkward angle she'd passed out in.

It took her a second to realize she wasn’t alone.

Your head was tucked against her shoulder, warm breath brushing lightly against her collarbone, your leg thrown halfway across hers like it had always belonged there. You were still asleep, face soft in the early light, hoodie slightly bunched at the shoulder. And Ellie—hungover and groggy as she was—couldn’t move. Wouldn’t dare to.

Something about the moment felt fragile, like shifting the wrong way might shatter whatever invisible thread tethered her to you right now. Her eyes wandered—over your cheek, your lashes, the way your mouth parted slightly as you slept. She knew that mouth. Knew the way it twisted into grins when you teased her, the way it stretched wide when you laughed, the way it moved when you rambled about work or scolded her for bringing the camera right in your face.

But right now, it wasn’t moving. Right now, it was inches from her own, and that fact suddenly felt... louder than it should’ve.

She swallowed. Throat drier than ever.

You’d always been like this with her, touchy, close, the kind of best friends who shared beds, jackets, inside jokes laced with too much affection to be totally harmless. But this? Waking up to your weight tucked into her like you were something she could lose?

That was new, it scared her. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was just too hungover.

Ellie exhaled slowly, shifting just enough to tilt her head back against the couch. Eyes to the ceiling. Trying not to think about the way her heart was beating a little faster than usual.

Trying not to think about how easy it would be to just… stay like this.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to figure out how she could get up without waking you. Her mouth was dry, head pounding slightly—she needed water. And a cigarette. Badly.

But just as she was about to move, a pillow hit her square in the chest.

You stirred with a soft noise, blinking awake, clearly as confused as Ellie until your eyes landed on Jesse standing a few feet away, grinning like an idiot.

“Rise and shine!” he said way too cheerfully.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, dude,” Ellie groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she chucked the pillow back at him.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, your hair sticking up at odd angles from where you'd been slumped on Ellie’s shoulder all night.

“What time is it?” you mumbled through a yawn.

Ellie stumbled toward the coffee table and grabbed her phone. Dead. Of course.

“It’s past eleven,” Jesse answered before she could ask. “Dina went out to grab breakfast and told me to wake you two up. So… mission accomplished.”

You stretched out with a groan, the ache of the couch and last night’s twisted sleeping position settling in. Ellie made her way to the kitchen sink, filled a glass of water, and downed it in seconds. She filled it again, bringing it back to you without a word before digging around for her charger, and a cigarette.

Once her phone finally powered on, the screen lit up with a handful of missed calls from Joel.

“Shit,” she muttered, tapping to call him back. It barely rang before he picked up.

“The hell have you been? I got a weird-ass call last night from some lady asking for ‘camera girl’? Care to explain?”

Ellie winced, blowing out the smoke. “Uh. Yeah. Okay. So… I may or may not have given a girl your number to blow her off because I didn’t know how to turn her down politely.”

“How about you stop being a goddamn flirt? That’s a start,” Joel snapped. “Poor girl hung up the second she heard my voice.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Joel. Won’t happen again,” she mumbled, hand scratching nervously at her neck.

You curled back up on the couch, watching her with a half-lidded gaze and a smirk that said you’re never gonna let her live that down.

Ellie settled on the small chair beside you, still embarrassed of the small inconvenient with Cat, thank god she might never have to see her again. She tied up her converse, adjusting her pants, until she heard the doorbell ring.

“Open the door, my hands are full!” Dina yelled from the hallway.

Jesse scrambled to his feet like he was on fire. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, flinging the door open as Dina stepped in with two bags—one filled with takeout containers and the other with orange juice and what looked like three kinds of aspirin.

“God bless you,” Ellie said, sitting at the kitchen counter, hunched over like someone who’d just fought in a war.

“Did you seriously wake up and had a smoke?” Dina asked, eyeing her. “You look like a raccoon that got hit by a truck.”

Ellie flipped her off, too lazy to do it with any real heat.

You sat up slowly, hair a mess, still wrapped in one of Dina’s throw blankets like a burrito. “I feel like a raccoon that got hit by a truck,” you mumbled.

Dina laughed and dropped the food on the table. “Eat. Hydrate. Shut up.”

Everyone shuffled around the kitchen table, opening takeout containers and sorting through plastic forks. Jesse popped open a bottle of orange juice and poured out uneven glasses for everyone, passing them around like he was tending bar.

Ellie slid into the chair next to you, her thigh brushing yours under the table. Tangling her foot with yours, something she always did when sitting next to you. You didn’t move away.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, leaning in a little.

You turned to her, lips quirking. “You’re the one who had a pillow to the chest, I think you’re the victim here.”

She smiled. “True, but you looked like you were actually dead when I got up. Like, I was genuinely wondering if you stopped breathing on me.”

You chuckled. “And yet you didn’t check?”

“I was gonna. But then I remembered you snore when you’re alive, so I waited it out.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, biting into a piece of toast. “I don’t snore.”

“Oh you do. It’s kind of adorable, though.”

Before you could come up with a smartass reply, Dina dropped a small bottle of ibuprofen in front of each of you.

“No one’s allowed to move until they eat, hydrate, and take two of these,” she ordered. “Hangover brunch is sacred.”

You leaned your shoulder into Ellie’s for a second, subtle, but she noticed. And she didn’t lean away.

After brunch wound down and everyone (Jesse) had gone home, Ellie offered to drive you back. You agreed, like she had any other choice anyway, but the plan shifted before you even made it out of the parking lot.

“Mind if we make a quick stop at the studio?” she asked, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily draped out the window. “Need to download the shots from yesterday’s shoot before I forget.”

You glanced at her, the curve of her jaw catching the light. “You mean the shoot where that one bridesmaid almost cried because the wind ruined her updo?”

Ellie snorted. “Yeah. That one.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, kicking your feet up on the dashboard like you always did in her truck. “Only if you let me judge your editing process.”

“Oh, I will lock you out of the studiot.”

“Rude.”

The car ride was quiet, in that easy, comfortable way you’d both settled since you met. The streets were mostly empty, Saturday afternoon lull in full effect. You watched the buildings blur past, music humming low through the speakers—some soft indie song from a playlist Ellie always had running but never let you see.

“So…” you started, moving a piece of her away from your face. “You sleep okay?”

She glanced over at you, raising a brow. “With you practically cutting off circulation in my arm? Like a baby.”

Ellie smirked, eyes still on the road. “You drooled on me.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did. I was gonna get up for water but I thought you might go feral if I moved.”

“Wow. What a gentleman.”

“Right? I deserve a medal.”

You chuckled, biting back a smile. There was something about being in her truck like this that always made the world feel smaller. Calmer. Safer.

Eventually, she pulled into the tiny parking lot behind her studio—a little second-floor space tucked between a florist and an out-of-business vape shop. She hopped out, locking the doors with a chirp, and tossed you the keys.

“In case some creep tries to break in, you can beat them with my keychain,” she joked.

You followed her upstairs, the steps creaking beneath your feet.

The studio smelled like citrus and dried eucalyptus—Ellie’s signature, apparently—and was scattered with gear, lighting rigs, camera lenses, and one stubborn plant that refused to die.

She had a small thrifted green couch where you often took naps after work, when she would come and pick you up. Her guitar was displayed on the wall in a hardwood frame Joel made for her, and her workspace was filled with film rolls, camera lenses, and her laptop. The walls were decorated with a bunch of her favorite pictures, a picture of Joel, the farm where she grew up with him, her horse shimmer, and a picture of you, that she had taken when you went to the museum with her.

She moved through the place like second nature, flicking on lights, booting up her laptop, connecting her camera to transfer the files. You perched on the arm of the couch, watching her with a soft kind of curiosity.

“So,” you said, “this was all just an excuse to hang out more, wasn’t it?”

Ellie looked up from her screen, caught. She tried to play it cool, that lazy smirk tugging at her lips. “What gave me away?”

You shrugged. “You never download photos the same day.”

“Touché.”

You swung your legs up onto the couch, leaning back into the cushions like you owned the place.

“I mean,” you said, “I don’t mind. Your studio has better lighting than my soul.”

Ellie snorted. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She let the silence settle again as she worked, but every now and then, she glanced up—just to look at you. And even if she didn’t know what it meant yet, she felt it. That pull.

That something.

You snuck a glance at the screen while Ellie scrolled through the photos. Her hands moved with practiced ease, eyes laser-focused, posture relaxed but precise. It hit you again—how talented she really was. She didn’t just take photos, she captured moments so beautifully throughout her lense, froze them in time, and made everything look so magical, straight out of a renaissance painting.

Then you saw her.

A girl in one of the shots—black hair styled in a sharp bob, delicate features, almond eyes that seemed to hold secrets. Effortless beauty. You nearly choked on your own spit.

“Who’s that?” you asked, pointing at the screen before you could stop yourself.

“Oh,” Ellie said casually, not even glancing up. “That’s Cat. The one who almost got me disowned by Joel.”

You blinked. “That’s her?”

“Mmhm.”

“She’s… beautiful.” You meant it, but the words felt sour in your mouth. Something twisted in your stomach—an odd, sour pang. Like the idea of Ellie flirting with someone like that made you queasy. Which was ridiculous. She was your best friend.

“Yeah,” Ellie said, scrolling past the photo. “Not my type though.”

You turned your head toward her, brow raised. “Since when do you have a type?”

She looked at you with a smirk, one eyebrow cocked. “Since when do you care, huh?”

You huffed and smacked her with the nearest throw pillow.

“Jesus—what is it with you people and violence today?” she laughed, shielding herself with both arms.

You grinned, flopping back into the couch beside her, sitting cross-legged. Your knee pressed lightly against her thigh, grounding you both in that familiar proximity that had always been so easy.

Ellie leaned back into her laptop, brows furrowed again in that intense little way she got when she was editing. Tongue poking out the side of her mouth—her tell. You’d seen her make that same face a thousand times over the last year and a half, but now, for some reason, it made your heart beat a little faster.

And you hated how much you noticed it.

You let the silence settle for a moment, the glow of her laptop casting soft light over her features. Green eyes glowing. You were trying very hard not to keep sneaking glances.

“Do you ever get tired of weddings?” you said, breaking the quiet,

Ellie snorted, eyes still on the screen. “Absolutely. I mean, I like the photos, yeah, but it’s always the same. Crying moms, drunk uncles, forced dancing.”

You smirked. “Sounds like a Tuesday at Dina’s.”

“Exactly. At least I don’t have to wear a dress to Dina’s,” she muttered, grimacing.

You laughed. “I’d pay money to see that.”

She turned to look at you then, finally tearing her gaze from the laptop. “That right?”

“Yup. I’d print it out. Frame it. Maybe even make a shrine.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Remind me to never let you near my old Halloween photos.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, leaning in. “You’ve worn one before?!”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Ellie.”

She grinned, leaning back on her hands. “Let’s just say… middle school was a weird time.”

You looked at her like you were staring at a ghost. “You absolutely have to show me now.”

“Fuck no.”

“I’ll find them.”

“You won’t.”

“I’ll text Joel”

“I’’ll tell him to block you, say you got hacked, his old ass would buy it”

But she was laughing, and that tight coil in your chest eased a little. But yet, something still buzzed beneath it all—unspoken, unnamed, just waiting for the moment one of you accidentally said too much.

An hour passed by, maybe more. Two half finished mugs of peppermint tea sat lukewarm on the small coffee table in front of the couch, the steam ong gone. Ellie had wrapped up editing the pictures a little while ago, but neither of you had moved. Conversation came easy and meandering like it always was when it was just the two of you. Your legs were lazily stretched across hers, while you rambled about something she couldn’t really keep up with. Not because she didn’t care, but because she was too distracted by you. The way your face looked soft in the tiny rays of sun that bleed through her window, your eyes relaxed, hair still undone and messy, lips moving freely. The calm way you existed beside her.

Then your phone buzzed across the table.

“Ugh,” you groaned, reaching for it without moving your legs. Ellie helped nudge it closer to you with her foot.

It was your roommate, Sally. A quick phone call to remind you it was your turn to buy groceries. She was off to see her boyfriend for the rest of the weekend, and had conveniently left the fridge empty.

“God, I hate grocery shopping,” you muttered, thinking about the long lines to the cashier, the blinding fluorescent lights, and carrying the bags back to your apartment. It wasn’t a task for the weak that’s for sure.

Ellie chuckled. “I can come with you, if you want.”

You blinked, “Wait really? I don’t wanna bother you.”

“Yeah I’ll drive.. Besides I could use some cereal and actual food for me” she shrugged, like it was no big deal “We can suffer in the cashier line together.”

You smiled, a soft kind of grateful. “Els you are an actual angel– You sure you’ve got nothing better to do than listen to me complain about the price of eggs?”

“Sounds like the perfect saturday plan” She said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head, her shirt riding up slightly Your eyes drifting a second too long at the exposed skin.

You shook your head, snapping out of it, standing too “Alright then, grab your keys. But can we stop at my place first? I need to get more cash, change my shirt, and definitely brush my teeth. I feel disgusting.”

Ellie grinned. “Yeah, wouldn’t want you showing up to the grocery store smelling like peppermint tea and moral decay”

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, tossing a cushion at her chest. She caught it with ease and added, “Okay okay let’s go stinky.”

When you arrived, Ellie parked out front like she’d done a hundred times before.

“Be right back,” you said, hopping out and unlocking the front door, luckily for you your apartment was on the first floor. “Wanna come in?”

Ellie hesitated for half a second before killing the engine and stepping out. “Sure. I’ll make sure you don’t get distracted by your phone again.”

You laughed as she followed you inside. Your apartment was cozy, very clean and tidy, with the exception of your little cluttered corner with books, cd’s and vinyls. You headed towards your room, while Ellie drifted to the small kitchen counter, settling herself on the wooden stool. Eyes wandering toward the shelves that contained some framed pictures of you and your roommate and half-burnt candles, she fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. Eyes anywhere but your bedroom door.

Her mind started divagating to yesterday’s incident. Suddenly a wave of shame crashing into her, how could she possibly look at you that way? But the way you’d been tucked against her side like it was the most natural thing in the world, it was natural. It was how you were with her, always close, always touchy. That was the problem. You’d always touch her like that, leaning on her, throwing your legs over hers, calling her your best friend while curling into her like she was the safest fucking place you’d ever known. ‘Fuck. Nope, I can’t do this.’ She thought to herself.

And now here she was, sitting stiffly like an idiot while you were changing your shirt in the other room. She could hear the faint sound of drawers opening, a closet creaking, and her mind was absolutely betraying her.

She reached for a glass and filled it with water, just to give her hands something to do. Stupid. She felt stupid.

In your room, you peeled off your hoodie and tossed it in the laundry basket, grabbing a freshly washed tank-top that paired perfectly with the light grey sweatpants you were wearing. You ran to the bathroom to brush your teeth quickly, spitting out the foam with a groan.

“Ellie?” you called from the hallway, “you still there?”

“Yeah! just having a glass of water” she replied, trying to keep her tone casual.

You stepped out of the bathroom finally, fresh shirt on, hair quickly finger-combed back into place. You looked at her and smiled, oblivious to the mess in her head.

“Alright, ready to go?”

Ellie slid off the kitchen counter, grabbing her keys from her little carabiner. “Yup”.

She made a beeline towards the door, holding it open for you, and for a second you felt that same warmth settle between you. Charged in a way you’d spent a long time ignoring.

The grocery store wasn’t as crowded as you’d imagined, but the cold air made you grumble under your breath the moment you walked in, suddenly regretting your shirt choice. Ellie grabbed a cart without you asking, which made you grin, and you tossed your bag inside before taking the front, lazily pushing it while she trailed beside you.

You moved slowly through the aisles, grabbing the things from your shopping list, fruit, snacks, your favorite cereal, and bitching about prices.

“Three dollars for a fucking cucumber,?” you muttered, tossing it into the produce bag. “What’s it made of? Gold?”

Ellie smirked. “Maybe it comes with a motivational speech.”

You turned to her with a deadpan stare. “Remind me why you’re here?”

“Because you begged me to come.” she said leaning onto the cart with a lazy grin.

“Oh is that right?” you teased, tossing a box of granola bars into the cart “You basically threw yourself at me.”

She hummed, clearly entertained, not bothering to hide how much she liked poking at you.

There was something about the two of you in this mundane setting–like everything slowed down. Her jacket sleeves pushed up slightly, peeking at the moth tattoo on her forearm. Rings catching under the aisle lights as she tapped them gently against the cart handle. The way her eyes followed you when you weren’t looking, like she couldn’t help herself.

At one point, you reached for something on a high shelf, standing in your tiptoes, fingers brushing the edge of a box of instant coffee, and just when you were about to call Ellie for help, she was already grabbing the coffee box, your faces inches away from the other, you could feel your cheeks heat up, hoping Ellie couldn’t notice it.

“Tragic how much you need me, she teased, you could feel her breath on your cheek, but you wouldn’t let her get away with it.

“Tragic how your ego fits in this aisle.”

The bickering faded into easy silence after a bit, your bodies moving in rhythm around each other. You picked out yogurt while Ellie grabbed frozen berries. She waited while you scanned your list twice, walking slowly behind you, close enough to graze your shoulder every now and then.

Eventually, with a full cart and your stomachs starting to rumble, you headed to the checkout line.

“Dinner at your place?” she asked casually.

You paused, glancing at her. “You staying the whole day or what?”

She shrugged, lips pulling up. “You want me to?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just turned to face forward in line, hiding the heat on your cheeks with a small smirk.

“You already know the answer.”

Ellie smiled to herself, the kind that never quite reached her mouth but burned in her eyes.

She was in deep shit.

Back at your place, the groceries were dumped on the kitchen counter, brown paper bags scattered messily. Ellie kicked off her shoes near the door, already familiar with the routine. You tied up your hair, a few pieces falling out, framing your face naturally, relaxed. Ellie turned on the tiny speaker in the corner, playing some mellow playlist in the background.

She lingered near the stove, watching you unload the bags like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Leaning lazily there, arms crossed, eye following you every move. She’d blame it on the hangover if you asked.

“You making that thing with the mushrooms?” she spoke up, nodding toward the bag of veggies.

You grinned. “You say that like it’s not your favorite.”

She tilted her head, looking pleased. “It is. That’s why I asked.”

You got to work, chopping up some onions and garlic, slicing the mushrooms and chicken breast, working at the diner for the past two years had actually rubbed on you, you were a great cook. Ellie pulled herself together enough to start the pasta water. You worked on sync without thinking—passing spices back and forth, bumping elbows, making dumb comments whether the sauce needed more salt.

It felt… easy. Like something you’d done a hundred times before. And maybe you haf.

Dinner was ready before either of you noticed, You plated it quickly, Ellie’s favorite creamy chicken mushroom pasta, handing her a bowl without even asking how much she wanted, because you already knew.

You both sat on the couch, the coffee table your makeshift dining space. Her knees brushed yours. You put on a show, one that you and Ellie had already watched a hundred times, but it eventually became background noise. Neither of you really paying attention to it.

Midway through dinner, you glanced over and caught her already looking at you.

“What?” you asked, blinking at her. “Do I have something on my face?”

Ellie tilted her head, pretending to examine you. “It’s just—” She leaned in, reaching up with her hand, and gently wiped something from the corner of your mouth with her thumb. “—There,” she said softly, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

Then she pulled her hand away and before you could react—licked the sauce off her finger.

Your brain short-circuited.

She returned to her plate like nothing had happened, completely oblivious to the way you stared at her, stunned into stillness. She was chewing quietly, legs folded beneath her on the couch, her hair falling slightly over her eyes as she focused on her food.

Ellie’s heart, however, was going ballistic. What the fuck was that? she thought, eyes glued to her food to avoid looking at you again. She’d just licked sauce off her finger like this was some rom-com dinner date instead of a casual best friends hangout. Her face was burning, but thankfully the soft flicker of the TV and warm glow of the candles you’d lit disguised the flush on her cheeks.

You turned your attention back to the screen in silence, bowl resting in your lap, the warmth of it grounding you just enough to pretend nothing happened. You hit play on the next episode, leaned back into the couch, your knees still lightly brushing hers. You didn’t pull away.

Neither did she.

Your heart was pounding. Loud. Distracting. What is wrong with me? you whispered, only to yourself.

Minutes passed. Comfortable silence again, with occasional comments on the show and the soft clink of utensils against ceramic bowls. But something had shifted—something small, but very real, lingering between you both like static.

Eventually, Ellie glanced at her phone, then at the window. It was dark, and late.

“I should probably head out,” she said, voice a little softer than before.

You looked over at her, nodding slowly. “Shit. I didn’t even realize the time.”

Neither of you moved for a second.

She stood first, gathering your empty plates without being asked and taking them into the kitchen. You followed behind, hands in the pockets of your sweatpants, watching as she rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the sink.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, drying her hands on a dish towel. You smiled, a little shy now.

“Thanks for coming grocery shopping with me.”

Ellie laughed under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Text me when you get home?” you asked, more gently.

She looked at you, her eyes soft. “Always.”

You walked her to the door, shoulder brushing hers, both of you pretending not to notice. She stepped out into the hallway, turned to face you again for a brief second, like she might say something more.

But then she just gave you a small, lopsided smile.

“Night, stinky.”

“Night, Els.”

You closed the door behind her and leaned your forehead against it for a moment, exhaling.

God, you were so screwed.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

taglist ♡‧₊˚₊✧

@adoreasconnie @liasxeatt @80saturn @eleanorsghost @youusunshineyoutemptress

lmk if anyone else wants to be tagged!<3

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter Two: Emotions Unveiled

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 2.5K

⛧Summary: Feelings surface and the line between duty and desire begins to blur. Admitting your feelings to the King of Hell could be the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you. Lucifer battles with his own internal struggles in silence.

⛧Notes: Ask and you shall receive, my dears! You all asked me for a part two so here we go! Keep an eye out for my next fic because its time for some Alastor content! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and she deserve all the rainbows and cupcakes.

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic

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

As the soft rays of the morning sun seeped through the velvet curtains, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times, adjusting to the gentle light. Despite the room still cloaked in soothing darkness, you knew you were in Lucifer's room. It takes you a moment to recall last night's events. You feel his breath on the back of your neck and his arm around your midsection. You can feel your face get hotter with every detail you take in. He is comfortably curled up behind you sound asleep. He needs rest, you’re afraid to move a muscle and wake him. You look over at the clock on the wall, you both are extremely late for breakfast.

“...Shit.” You say under your breath. Lucifer begins to move slightly, he lets out a soft hum and holds you just a bit closer. You can’t tell if he’s awake or not, even though you truly did not want to get out of bed, it had to be done. You slowly sit up and turn around, you almost place your hand on his shoulder but you take a moment to admire his sweet sleeping face. Instead, you gently place your hand on his cheek. Lucifer’s eyes flutter open, he meets your gaze and gives you a sleepy smile.

“Good morning…” He says softly while holding your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek. You wanted to pull away, but his eyes made you want to just crawl back into his arms and go back to sleep.

“G-Good Morning, sir.” You stutter a little, Lucifer’s smile turns into a small smirk, he is amused by how flustered you are. He finally lets go and you try to compose yourself, but it's hard to do so when he looks so cute.

“I’ll go get some coffee, it looks like we slept in.” You finally break the spell he had on you and crawl out of his bed. When you leave, Lucifer immediately misses your presence close to him, having you next to him made a significant difference in his mood and sleep. It was the first time he’d felt the warmth of another person in a long time, and now that he’s had a taste, he wants more.

You head down the hall to your room, when you enter you quickly shut the door, thankful no one saw you. You get dressed in your uniform and head downstairs to the kitchen. While you made coffee, the staff were surprised to see you so late into the morning. You make up a quick excuse, stating you were not feeling well but you’re doing much better now so it's nothing to worry about.

You take two cups of coffee upstairs on a silver tray, and you do your best to mentally shift into work mode, but you can't stop thinking about last night. You return to his room, the king is still in bed, sporting a satisfied look on his face. You hand him his coffee and place the tray on the bedside table. 

“Thank you, my dear.” He says and gestures for you to sit on the bed, so you take your cup from the tray and have a seat.

“I want to apologize.” You start, and he looks at you with a raised brow. “I shouldn't have fallen asleep in your quarters. That was inappropriate of me.”

“I’m gonna stop you there, you do exactly what is asked of you. Everything you do is for my benefit. I could never be upset with you for something like that.” He says with a gentle voice. His gold eyes soften as he realizes you’re being serious.

“Thank you…” You reply, just barely above a whisper. His words made you feel a little better, you only want to do what's best for your king…but sometimes you can get carried away. You would do anything for him, that includes bending the rules.

“Now stop sulking.” He says and crawls over to you, sitting beside you on the bed. He is seated rather close, you look away trying to hide your red face. He turns your face back towards him using his index finger and thumb. “You’re too pretty to be so sad.”

“Y-You forget yourself, sir.” You stutter, barely keeping it together. You finish your coffee and return the cup to the tray. When you stand up and walk towards the wardrobe, Lucifer chuckles at your attempt to remain dignified. He is knocking down walls with the way he speaks to you. Breaking down each professional boundary one at a time. His touch was setting you on fire and you were running out of ways to extinguish it.

You sort through his clothes and pull out a black suit with red and white embellishments. You set it on the corner of the bed like you always do. “I’ll make sure I have your lunch ready for you in your study, sir” You say quickly, with a red blush spread across your face, you take the tray and quickly excuse yourself.

You rush down the hall and back to your room. Your chest heaves and you're out of breath. What in the devil's name happened there?! He looked like he was going to kiss you, his face was so close and he called you pretty! What is this idiot doing? You cover your face with your sleeves and pace back and forth in your room.

You always prided yourself on your composure. You navigate life’s twists and turns with a steady hand and a level head. At first, you brushed off these fluttering feelings as a mere passing fancy. You find yourself in front of a mental crossroads, on one hand, there is the exhilarating rush of new emotions. On the other was fear of rejection, an unconventional relationship, and possible heartbreak. If you ruin what you have with Lucifer, you will end up with nothing. All your years climbing the hierarchy would be null and void.

But what if it was possible? No, it couldn't be, there was just no way. As far as you are aware, you’ve never heard of such a situation that ended well. This can’t possibly be happening, you need some time to sort yourself out. But at some point, you are going to see him again today and you’re not sure how you’ll handle it. You always buried your feelings deep within your heart, locking them away like a precious treasure hidden from prying eyes. You’d like to think you're capable of continuing this facade, but this time you are not so sure.

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

Lucifer sighs as you leave the room, your reactions are rather fascinating though. He gets up and takes his clothes to the bathroom to dress himself. Lucifer is well aware of the power dynamic here, and he has a habit of pushing things as far as he can. It comes with the territory of normally having anything he wants. He buttons his vest and looks at himself in the mirror. So what if he had a thing for his advisor? He wonders if he’s just lonely and that’s why he’s acting this way…even if that was true, it wouldn’t explain the relief he feels every time you enter a room. He puts on his coat, straightens his hat, and leaves his room to spend time in his study. 

He opens the door and notices his lunch is sitting on his desk along with some invoices to sign and an overview of yesterday's meeting. This is unusual, you normally bring him his meal and check in on his daily progress at this time. This is cause for concern, indeed. Was Y/N avoiding him? Surely that can't be true, they would never just ignore him like that. He slumps into his chair, wondering if he messed up somehow. 

Did he ruin the years of trust they had built? He still wants her around, he would hate the idea of anyone else taking your place. The more he thought about it the more the pit in his stomach grew. He attempts to eat but can’t put down much food, his nerves are making it difficult to eat. He needs to find you and apologize, he has to make this right somehow. 

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

Hours go by and you’ve done your best to avoid Lucifer at all costs, but you can't keep this up forever. You are standing on a large balcony in the dining room wearing your pajamas. The sun has set and the stars are visible in the sky, there is a chill in the air. You let out a defeated sigh, you’re going to have to tell him or forget about your feelings completely. You fear that if you confessed your love, the delicate threads that bind you both together would fray and snap. If you forget and try to move on, how bad is it going to hurt when he finds a new love? It would ache so bad you might have to leave his manor entirely, you knew that if that were to happen, it would shatter Lucifer's heart.

You feel a few drops of rain fall on your skin, and as each minute passes the rain becomes heavier and heavier. You look out into the courtyard, it’s getting late and you should be heading inside but you stand there, tears in your eyes. How could you be so foolish and self-centered? You knew the rules and you chose to defy them, it's your own fault you feel so awful.

Suddenly the rain is no longer hitting you, you don't feel the cold drops on your face anymore. You turn around and Lucifer is standing in the doorway, his large wing covers you, shielding you from the rain.

“Hey…Can we talk?” He says with a soft look of concern on his face. You nod while wiping your face with your sleeves, he motions for you to come back inside. He walks slightly ahead of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He opens the door for you and gives you a small half-smile. Lucifer walks over to his desk and pours you both a glass of bourbon. He hands you a glass and you take a seat at the small table next to the window. He sits across from you, you can tell he's a bit anxious because he keeps looking away. You take a sip from your drink, hoping the alcohol will settle your nerves. 

The ambiance of the dimly lit room, the soft glow of candlelight danced upon his face. With a hesitant breath, Lucifer cleared his throat. 

“I need to apologize to you,” Lucifer says with a despairing look on his face. “I’m sure you’ve felt confused and in distress all day.” He takes a sip of his drink while trying to find the right words. “Before I begin, let me just say that I think so highly of you. Y/N, you’ve been there for me during every awful situation I’ve faced and I am so grateful for you.”

He grabs your hand and his expression changes to a more serious one. “I don't want you to leave my side. I couldn’t bear it if I did something to make you leave.”

“Sir, I–” You try to speak but Lucifer interrupts you.

“Y/N. I need you to drop the formalities for ten minutes, please.” He cuts you off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Is there something going on between us or am I just a lonely, divorced, delusional, man making it all up in my head so I don't feel so shitty about my life?”

You are shocked by his words, you had no idea he felt that way about himself. 

“You’re not delusional, Lucifer.” You answer, it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and put them in order. “It's all my fault, really. I guess after all this time I’ve developed some feelings.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, his face softens and he squeezes your hand and you look back into his eyes with a small smile. “I think I just got carried away, I know nothing can happen between us. It would be unacceptable and irredeemable. I’m the delusional one, to think you could ever love someone like me.” You reply while looking down at your drink, your finger toying with the rim of the glass.

Without a word, without warning, Lucifer leaned over the table and grabbed ahold of your shirt. He pulls you close so that you are face to face, leaning over the table. You could feel his breath on your lips as he said, “Love doesn't adhere to rules or expectations, darling. I will choose to defy every convention, every decree if it means I get to spend the rest of my life devoted to someone I love.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, he slowly closed the gap between you both. His lips softly pressed against yours. Time stopped in that moment, amidst the chaos of entangled emotions. The taste was bittersweet, you’ve only ever dreamed of this. His hand lets go of your shirt and caresses your face. You kiss him back with fervor, a silent confession that speaks volumes. Both of you daring to defy the boundaries of monarchy and courtier.

You lace your fingers with his, he stands up and pulls you out of your seat. You practically fell into his arms, Lucifer held the back of your head, the other arm wrapped around your waist.

Your tears flowed freely as you hid your face in his chest. He holds you tight, offering you silent comfort as you let out quiet sobs. Lucifer strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize…” He says, barely above a whisper. “Just let me take care of you for once, my love.” Before you can protest, Lucifer scoops you up and gently places you on his bed. He climbs in and pulls the covers over you both. He wipes your tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve and smiles at you while you take the time you need to calm down. 

“C’mon, babe say something…You’re killing me.” He says, waiting for you to speak with bated breath.

“I love you…” You say between staggered breaths. Your eyes are locked on his, somehow Lucifer blows through the many walls you’ve put up to prevent this and you are left bare and vulnerable. It is terrifying, being this helplessly in love. Bearing the fragments of your heart to the person who held it entirely.

“I love you too, dummy.” His smile is sweet like saccharine, his voice is smooth like silk. Your lips met his once more while your fingers card through his hair. He kept you as close as possible, and in the hush of the night amidst the whispered confessions, you and your king curled up together and fell asleep once again in each other's arms. No sovereign, demon or angel could pull you two apart even if they tried. 

[lexiputellas]

The Silent Play - Chapter One

Baseline

Tennis.

Your whole life revolves around a fucking tiny little ball that has to hit the racket and make a point.

While people were making friends, dating, and building connections—you were playing.

You played every second of every day.

Vacations? No, sorry, you have to train.

Going out? No, sorry, you have a game.

That’s how your relationships became cold, short-lived, and usually lasting about as long as a rally.

And now, Wimbledon. Bloody fucking Wimbledon.

Except you’re not playing. A minor injury forced you out, so instead of being on the court where you belong, you’re here, sitting in the royal box like a spectator. Fantastic. Amazing. So fun.

This is your personal version of hell.

You slouch in your seat, arms crossed, already dreading the next few hours. Summer, your sister and manager, sits next to you, scrolling through her phone like she hasn’t just dragged you into this. Her name might be Summer, but she’s all winter—cold, sharp, and terrifying when necessary.

People start arriving late, and you sigh. Don’t people know basic manners?

You glance over, ready to judge, but then—

You see her.

A blonde. In a fucking suit.

She moves through the crowd like she’s completely unaware of the attention she’s drawing—or maybe she just doesn’t care. There’s a sharpness in the way she carries herself, in the way her gaze flicks over the crowd, seeing everything, revealing nothing.

You nudge Summer. "Who is that?"

She barely looks up. "Who?"

"The blonde."

"There are two blondes."

You exhale. "The one in a suit."

Summer finally looks, unimpressed. "Leah Williamson. She plays for Arsenal."

You glance back at Leah, then at Summer. "Since when do you know footballers?"

She shrugs. "Since I started dating one." Then, she narrows her eyes at you. "Why? Are you interested?"

You scoff, shoving her lightly. "Just curious."

She hums, unconvinced, while you casually pull out your phone and type Leah Williamson into Instagram.

Look at that. She follows you.

England captain. Euros winner. Footballer. You scroll, taking in the pictures—on the pitch, in training, with her team. Then you find a photo of her in another suit.

Sharp lines. Crisp tailoring. Effortless.

You scroll, maybe for too long, and when you glance up

Green eyes. Focused. Watching you.

And then—she smirks.

Not wide, not obvious—just the ghost of something at the corner of her lips, a flicker of amusement like she knows something you don’t.

Shit.

You turn back to your phone immediately, like that’s going to erase what just happened.

Summer lets out a quiet, evil laugh. "That was embarrassing for you."

"Shut up."

The match plays on, but your focus is shot. Every now and then, you sneak a glance, only to find Leah still perfectly at ease, like she’s in on a joke you haven’t figured out yet.

Leah Williamson.

You exhale, glancing at your phone, hovering your thumb over the screen for a second longer than necessary. Then—fuck it.

You follow her back.

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter six

synopsis: you and mahalat come to an impasse during battle. and phosphorus saves your ass.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, reader has a bit of a psychotic break, mahalat is horrible.

"Da?" Alexi raised a brow, keeping a hand on the wheel as he picked up the phone.

He paused a moment, expression darkening slightly as he glanced at the Bride, who was sitting in the passenger.

"Da."

He paused again, brows dropping sternly.

"Da."

With a quick snap, he hung up, plastering on his usual happy expression and turning to everyone, as if you didn't notice the huge change in atmosphere.

"He says there is unfortunate traffic on the way to the castle, so we should take alternative route."

With a small rev, he cut a corner, turning into a random side street with a completely straight face.

After arriving at the Pokolistan airport once again, you were greeted by Alexi, he, as well as the other guards, completely oblivious to the true objective of your mission.

Kill the princess.

You almost felt bad, seeing as these people had been nothing but nice to you.

But orders were orders, and the quicker you got this out of the way, the quicker you could go back home.

Discreetly, you glanced at Phosphorus, him doing the same, the two of you silently noting the odd behavior before going back to your usual shenanigans.

"Quit man-spreading. Your leg's takin' up most of my room," you ordered, lowly, using your knee to push his closer to the door.

"It's a cramped car, sweetheart, you barely had any room to begin with," he shrugged you off, widening his spread to fight back against your assault before patting his thigh. "But I got a space right here for you. Free parking. No handicap."

"And feel your disco stick stab me every time we drive over a pothole? No thanks," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Sounds delightful to me."

"To you," you emphasized.

"Could use my arm as a seat belt."

"Don't think I can file a sexual harassment complaint against a seat belt."

"Sexual harassment? Where?" he asked, sarcastically, whipping his head around as if he was looking for something.

"Half the shit that falls out your mouth is sexual. And you haven't stopped harassing me since this whole thing started."

"Last I checked, Belle Reve didn't have HR."

"And last I checked, skeletons didn't have dicks. But here you are."

Glancing into the side mirror, the Bride raised a brow, noticing that the palace was behind them, and getting farther and farther

"What's up, Alexi?" she asked, turning to him. "This isn't—We're leaving the city. The castle is that way."

"Oh! It seems roundabout, but it's good shortcut," the captain assured, flashing the woman a smile before focusing his sights back on the road.

Out the corner of her eye, the Bride took a quick glance at the back seat, sharing a suspicious look with you and Phosphorus.

The two of you nodded, turning to look out the window, finally noticing that you all were in the abandoned part of town, dilapidated buildings and trash galore.

'Aw, fuck...'

You knew exactly what was happening here.

Suddenly, the car pulled to a stop, the Bride's patience running thin.

"What the hell?" she asked, sharply, turning to the captain.

"Engine was making funny noise. Did you hear that?" Alexi excused, suddenly sputtering like an engine. "Did you, huh?"

"No," your brows furrowed, arms crossing over your chest as you sized him up with a suspicious look.

"I am afraid I am screwing up. How do you say? The... The suedinitel? How do you—?"

"I think how we say it is Keep moving, Alexi!" Phosphorus exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat.

"You want me to permanently damage vehicle?"

"Yes!"

Just then, two other armored trucks pulled up in front of yours, the men inside hopping out instantly and drawing their very high-powered guns, training them on the car.

And on perfect cue, the cavalry arrived, a few flying knights and a helicopters swooping in to cut off any form of aerial escape.

'For fuck's sake...'

"Damn it!" the Bride exclaimed, brows cinching at the sight.

"My men have fought and died for the Princess. We are not going to let you kill her now," Alexi stated, firmly, eyes deadly serious.

Leaning over the skeleton next to you, you tried the door, quietly cursing to yourself when it wouldn't budge.

'Bastard locked us in.'

Suddenly, he drew his pistol, pressing it into the Bride's temple.

"Stand down, Bride. You—"

Without hesitation, Phosphorus sent his radiated fist flying through the head rest, punching a hole right through it as well as completely demolishing the top half of Alexi's head, splattering blood, brains, and teeth all over the dash.

"Jesus, fuck, Phos," you grimaced, watching the remains of the poor man's jaw, as well as the rest of his body, flop forward against the steering wheel.

"What a shame. I liked that guy," he sighed.

But before you all could even get a moment to breathe, the guards opened fire, littering the truck with bullets.

Quickly, you all ducked down, the Bride unlocking and opening all the doors, allowing everyone to roll out and duck for cover.

Instantly, you all scattered, forcing the men to break off into smaller groups and fight you off.

"I smell blood, o' pityful flesh..." Mahalat's voice boomed within your mind, teasingly, sending a cold shock down your spine as you ran down an alley, bullets whizzing past. "Have you more for me to feast upon?"

'Jesus Christ...'

The wave of dread that washed over you was uncanny, your legs wanting nothing more than to buckle and drop you to the ground.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" you exclaimed, fed up, as you jumped onto the wall, bounding off of the other and back-flipping in mid-air to tackle the flying knight in the sky. "I'm busy! I don't need a peanut gallery!"

As he attempted to buck you off, you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him in place as your sharpened tail stabbed him right in the neck.

Twisting his arm, you used his gauntlet to shoot down the soldiers below, managing to take out three before you began to plummet toward the ground.

Loosening your hold and flipping yourself around, you used the poor man as a landing pad, crushing his ribs as you collided with the ground, fully upright.

But another armored truck was quick to swerve a few feet in front of you, soldiers jumping out an opening fire.

'Shit!'

Quickly, you dropped into a split, using your acrobatic prowess to flip and maneuver around them.

"On the contrary, it looks to me that you seem to be struggling against these peons."

"Shut up!" you spat, performing a front handspring into a handstand, propelling yourself into the air to scissor kick two men at once, before your tail wrapped around another's neck and swung you back for seconds. "I don't need your help! I'm doing just fine on my own."

"You know as well as I, (y/n), that our power could be so much greater, so much more potent... humans crawl over this rock like maggots, we alone could rule them all."

"Skip over this part! You've had the same pitch for years and my answer hasn't changed!" you groaned, landing on the shoulders of another soldier before snapping his neck. "Never! Gonna! Happen!

"Your humanity holds you back! You're weak! Pathetic!"

"Fuck you!"

"SUNUK ZETAM MA—" "NO!"

Quickly, you whipped your tail around, its pointed tip stabbing you in the thigh and forcing you to let out a howl of pain.

But it distracted you, preventing you from switching over.

"I am in charge!" you barked, scrambling to your feet and sprinting toward the alley wall, "This is my body! You listen to me!"

Without hesitation, you smashed your face into the bricks, breaking your nose on impact and splattering blood everywhere.

Disoriented, you fell backward, smacking your head on the ground with a sick thud.

Everything in your mind was coming to a head, bursting violently from every pore.

Your captivity.

Your self-loathing.

Your fear.

Being so desperate—and so off your anti-psychotics—you were grasping for anything to stop the torture, anything to stop her from winning.

Even if that meant maiming yourself.

Swiftly, your tail snatched up a large shard of broken glass, quickly moving and stabbing you in the stomach.

"I HATE YOU!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, tears welling in your eyes as you pulled the glass out, only to stab it right back in.

Repeatedly.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YO—"

"SUNUK ZETAM MA'AK KULA BAA NAT SU DA MAHALAT!"

Instantly, your body stopped, your limbs and tail falling limply to your sides as your eyes rolled over white, and you slowly began to float into the air.

Unable to hold them back, your tears floated with you as well, disappearing into nothing as you burst into hellflame, destroying any evidence of your humanity.

Slowly, but surely, the demon employed her magic, using fire to arduously heal all of your wounds.

Blood returning.

Vessels sealing.

Muscles fusing.

Flesh mending.

Until, eventually, there was no trace of you ever hurting yourself at all, rendering your pain and your actions ultimately meaningless.

'Why... Why couldn't I have never been born...?'

When Mahalat emerged—wings, fangs, horns, and all—she let out a howling, maniacal laugh, zooming into the air in search of meat.

"Enough of this rebellion, (y/n)!" Mahalat laughed, her voice, once again, dubbed over yours. "You have lost! You lost the moment your wretched mother shoved you out of her revolting womb!"

Soaring through the air, she set her sights on a flying soldier, who opened fire after catching her in his periphery.

But she swiped her hand through the air, sending an effortless blade of fire to cut him in half.

Bisected, he let out a blood-curdling scream, quickly losing consciousness as Mahalat caught his top half, using his torso as a shield from the bullets below while she ripped off his helmet and took a huge bite out of his cheek.

"I am the one that is in charge! I am the one who dictates life or death! You belong to me!"

She relished the flavor, eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head as she savored the taste of human meat.

The maggots at Arkham fed her nothing but lettuce and cabbage, as if she were some plow-horse to docile and tame.

But this... there was no heaven like it.

"You are nothing but a satchel of blood and bones in a flesh-drawn sack! A pitiful husk of meat! With me, you will survive for eons! Countless lifetimes! And we will rule this grievous hunk of rock, and all the maggots that fester on its surface!"

Glancing down at the ground, a sadistic smirk stretched across her lips, more trucks pulling up to attack.

"Like lambs to the slaughter..."

Large flames burst from Mahalat's palms, her eyes glowing bright red as she charged, allowing herself to heat up hotter and hotter and hotter, until finally...

She burst.

A tidal wave of hellflame erupted from her every direction, completely incinerating everything within a ten block radius.

The men below didn't even have a chance to scream before they were turned to ash, along with the countless other surrounding buildings.

Right then and there, Mahalat could've cried with joy.

It had been so long since she'd seen a scene like this, the smell of singed rubble and burning flesh like a goddamn Yankee candle to her.

But, in her happiness, she let her guard down, allowing you to take control just long enough to recite the incantation.

"KUNUS MATEZ KA'AM ALUK BAA NAT SU DA (Y/N)!"

"NO!" the demon roared, furious.

In her last moment of control, she grabbed her own wrist, using her strength to quickly swirl herself around before throwing your body clear across the city.

When you landed, you would be in for a world of hurt.

Pupils dilating, you snapped out of it with an aggressive gasp, eyes shooting wide as you suddenly collided with the wall of a building

Turning away from the man melting under his foot, Phosphorus raised a brow, eyes quickly scanning over the area at the sudden noise.

'The hell was that?'

Looking closer, he slowly began to make it out, the dust settling to reveal a naked, red woman, who was lying unconscious on the sidewalk.

You.

"(y/n)," he muttered under his breath, quickly snatching up his lab coat and jogging toward you

From what he could see, you were banged up pretty bad, but the little fires burning on your skin seemed to be patching you up—snapping your bones back in place, sucking up your bruises.

'Whoa... didn't know she could do that...'

You were such a mystery; there was still so much he didn't know about you.

But, on the contrary, there was a hell of a lot more you didn't know about him—a fact he was hoping to maintain.

Whatever reason you had for being incarcerated, he could already tell it had nothing to do with you being evil or malevolent in any way.

You hid behind swears and sharp looks, but behind your prickly exterior was a genuinely kind, caring, and beautiful person—of course, with a great rack, nice ass, smoking hot bod, heart-stopping smile, and delicious pussy.

...

But all of those were just bonuses.

Guys like him didn't associate with women like you.

Guys like him shouldn't associate with women like you.

He knew that, thoroughly, yet for some reason...

He just couldn't seem to stay away.

Suddenly, the siren of a cop car echoed throughout the streets, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Looking out to the streets, he could see the swirling red and blue drawing neared, the sirens getting exponentially louder along with them.

'Shit.'

Not wasting a second, Phosphorus scooped his arm under your waist, sitting you up and haphazardly tugging his coat on your naked body before tossing you over his shoulder.

"C'mon, doll face," he sighed, ducking into the shadows as he started off in the direction of the castle.

Once again, it looked like you both would be in it for the long haul.

"We gotta lay low for a bit..."

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Screenward Bound

Pairing: Twilight x Reader

Warning(s): Eventual smut and mild yandere behavior

Notes: Written for my 200 Follower Event!

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Next Chapter

You weren't quite sure what compelled you to visit the garage sale on the corner of 4th and Shirestone.

The lot was small and the yellow house inhabiting it was large, leaving very little space for the several tables of stuff in the miniscule front yard, meaning they spilled out onto the bordering sidewalk like an invasion of dusty books and even dustier boxes, which was probably what drew you to the sale in the first place.

"Do you have any Uncle Kracker?" You half-heartedly asked the old lady running the operation, idly thumbing through the CDs.

"Uncle who?" She raised a brow.

"Nevermind," you sighed, giving her a short once over before returning to your unenthusiastic perusal. You lived a few blocks away, tucked in the corner of a nearby cul-de-sac, but living alone was boring and your wallet had been crying to be drained after recovering from your car being in the shop for a few weeks. Besides, it wasn't like you couldn't drop a few dollars to pick up a half-decent CD for the radio, especially since people had a habit of dumping their unwanted shit on the side of the road.

With a huff, you flicked through the last row of CDs, all artists that you were either too old or too young to like. Sure, the Pat Benatar one was calling your name, but you already had a few of her songs on other CDs.

Just as you were about to go home and watch a couple hundred reruns of Family Feud while eating enough ice cream to make your doctor cringe, your eye caught another table, this one filled with an assortment of video games. You weren't the biggest gamer, but you had enough of a collection to put any normal ten-year-old to shame.

"You've got games?" You asked, moving past the one-armed mannequin to assess the selection.

"Do I ever," the old woman shook her head, sending a few snow-swept whisps of hair flying from the confines of her satin headband. "They belonged to my son, but the little rat couldn't keep it that way when he moved out."

You managed a sympathetic chuckle, pulling your coat a bit tighter around yourself. There was a chill in the air, despite it being sunny outside. Your fingers felt a bit numb as you flicked through the cases. Final Fantasy, Digimon, Mario Kart...

You paused as your gaze passed over a very familiar title.

"Woah, Twilight Princess?" You lifted the case, marveling at the find. It was a bit dusty, and the cover art looked like it had seen better, less faded days, but it was nonetheless a great discovery. You had always wanted to play it until school got in the way, but now...

"Oh, yeah," the old woman leaned in a bit too close for comfort, tapping a knobby finger on the plastic. You could smell her flowery perfume and the lingering scent of coffee grounds as she spoke. "This was one of my son's favorites... too bad he could never get it to cooperate."

"How so?" You asked, taking a step to the right to create a bit of distance.

She shrugged. "It worked great at first, but the controls were always a bit glitchy for his tastes. He said it was like something else was trying to take control," her tone turned conspiratorial, faded blue eyes glinting in the sunlight. "but I think he was just making excuses to get a new controller for Christmas."

This time, you laughed loudly. "Yeah, they'll do that," you glanced at the game and back at her. "How much? I've got a ten in my wallet, but I can get more if needed."

The old woman waved a hand, dismissing your words with a smile. "That won't be necessary, I should be paying you for taking this junk off my hands. Take it for free."

You opened your mouth to protest, but she sent you a stern glare and you didn't have the courage to square up with someone who didn't have any personal space awareness and looked like she could break your back over her knee. 'Thank you," you ducked your head respectfully, slipping the game into your bag and beginning the trek home. The sun was beginning to set, and you didn't want to get caught in the dark. You waved, calling over your shoulder: "Have a nice day. Stay warm!"

The woman waved back. "You too, dear! Don't let the bedbugs bite!"

You chuckled, boots crunching on the pavement as you set an easy pace, one hand slipping into your bag to feel over the faded plastic surface of your new game.

If there was any truth to the old lady's words about the game being glitchy, it didn't show.

After booting your ancient Wii-U up, you plugged the game in without hesitation, grinning when it started up with nary a twitch. The title screen looked exactly as it should have, a very familiar song emanating from your dusty speakers. It was perfect, and you almost felt bad taking it for free.

Until you tried to select 'new game' and the screen stalled, fizzling back to the menu as if you hadn't done anything at all. "What the hell?" you muttered, attempting the action once more, only to be booted back to the title screen for the second time. "Oh my god, are you serious?"

You weren't really mad, because your expectations hadn't been that high, but you hadn't expected problems before you even began playing. The 'start' button glimmered promisingly, and you reluctantly selected it.

The screen flashed, and the game started. You gaped, nearly dropping the controller in surprise. "Oh, hell yeah," you grinned, mood lifting slightly at the progress. You had already seen several gameplays, so starting later didn't bother you as much as it should have. "Now we're talking."

Link was distinctly aware of the moment his world inexplicably shifted, falling into the soft hands of another. It was as if they were meant to hold his life in their palms, smooth fingertips caressing the edges of his pixelated consciousness, shrouded by colors and numbers and a thin sheen of fantastical insanity.

There was a voice, lighter than the one of his previous guide: the gamer without sense. Link was forgiving, it was practically in his nature, but he could only take so many instances of the kind of crass, harsh language that man had employed, especially when he addressed the dreaded "chat"--whatever evil that was.

"Let's get classic," the voice spoke, tone heavy with excitement, and the world reformed before his very eyes, swirling with the familiar colors and textures that he remembered, though they seemed... brighter, somehow. It was a new start, Link realized. A new play at the game. A new life to destroy. To shape.

Ordon Spring was exactly as he remembered; a clear, rippling pool, fed by the gentle waterfall in the back of the spring, flanked by thick, verdant brush and preceded by a wonderful, sandy bank. Home, he thought.

"I hope the old lady wasn't right," said the voice, sounding a bit mournful as it caressed the tip of his pointed ear. "I'd hate to have to get rid of you... I've been looking for you for ages."

Link felt his body stiffen, the belts crisscrossing his chest feeling more suffocating that normal. You must have heard about his 'resistance' towards the previous owner, who quite deserved it after attempting to make him toss the village dogs off of various high places and herd the children into frankly dangerous areas. Hylia, he hoped you weren't like that. He didn't think he could handle that again.

"Alright, let's go save a princess," your cheer hung heavy in his mind, and Link allowed himself a small, pixelated smile.

He could work with this.

Dear lord I'm so glad this is finally out! It fought me tooth and nail, but I hope it's still up to standard <33

[baisemains]

Elements of Desire

Chapter 5: Cold War

single mom!sevika x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k

contains: angst, language, food mention, hurt/comfort, mention of past relationship trauma

description: with the first science fair submission looming, winter break is not the reprieve either of you hope it is, for better or worse.

ao3 link | spotify playlist

previous | next // sevika masterlist

The next morning, your alarm blaring wakes you up and you feel like you have the world’s worst hangover. For a few blissful moments, the only thing you could think about was the pounding in your head and what you did to deserve it.

Then, by some divine punishment, the events of yesterday come flooding back, minute by excruciating minute. Vi exposing a twisted version of your deepest secret, Sevika’s face as she took it in, the way you left her house like a coward. You don’t even want to think about the conversation that took place after.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you decide on a shower to wash away yesterday’s tears, and hopefully, shame. Turning the water as hot as you can possibly stand, you slowly step under the stream and let the scalding liquid pour over your body, not moving a muscle as a few stray droplets escape your eyes. They eventually make their way down your neck and blend in with the water, and it almost makes you feel like you’re not crying.

Once you convince yourself to leave the comfort of the shower, you wrap yourself in whatever towel was closest to you and dry off, still feeling sluggish. Wiping the steam off of the mirror, you’re met with tired, puffy eyes and you hang your head in exhaustion. Deciding to just head into your room, you lay down on your bed, not even attempting to put clothes on.

By the grace of whatever is out there, today is Saturday, and the first official day of winter break, which means not only do you not have to go to work, but you can stay in your room and wallow as long as you want. As long as you finish grading the finals sitting on your desk.

Deciding you should get food before you lock yourself in all day, you throw on your comfiest robe and slippers and head to the kitchen to grab something quick. Poking your head in to make sure that no one is there, you make a beeline for the pantry, grabbing a random selection of snacks that should tide you over for a few hours. As you’re about to run back to your room, your housemate walks in and you almost crash into her.

“Oh shit.”

She catches you right before you make contact, taking in your entire look and raises her eyebrow at you.

“You look like hell. You okay?”

Not really in the mood for a conversation, you try to quickly slip past her but she’s quick to block your way.

“Dude, seriously, I heard you come in last night and it sounded like you were crying. Was it the mom, do I need to beat her ass?”

The mere mention of Sevika has your eyes watering again and you have to look down, blinking the tears away before answering.

“I just…wanna be alone right now, no offense. Thank you for checking in though.”

Glancing at her, you give her a tight smile and brush past, heading straight into your room and shutting the door. Leaning against it, you let out a deep breath, heart racing a bit. Walking over to your bed, you throw on some comfy pajamas and decide to start grading those finals, maybe that’ll distract you.

Putting your snacks within reach, you hunker over the desk and get to work. A while later, you hear a gentle knock on the door and as your eyes adjust to how dark the room is now, only then do you realize how much time has passed. Rubbing your eyes, you tell whoever is on the other side to come in.

Your housemate you ran into earlier peeks her head in, looking gently at you.

“Hey. The other girls were thinking about ordering in and wanted to know if you wanted to pick the place. We haven’t ordered from that restaurant you love in a while.”

That causes you to chuckle, they’re definitely trying to make you feel better.

“Everyone knows then?”

Her mouth twists as she thinks about what to say next.

“Well, none of us really know what happened, just that it wasn’t good, and we thought this might cheer you up.”

Sighing, as much as you wanted to wallow in self pity all day, the fact that they’re reaching out does bring up your mood a bit. And the mention of food makes your stomach growl embarrassingly loud. The two of you have a little giggle at that, and you lean back in your chair, stretching in the process.

“That sounds really good, actually.”

She smiles at you, clearly happy to hear you say that.

“I’ll go let the girls know, the usual order?”

You nod, knowing that you’re going to have your favorite food in just a short while.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Her smile widens as she swings the door shut, leaving you alone in your room again. You’re able to get a few more tests graded before you hear the doorbell ring, heralding your salvation in the shape of takeout boxes.

“Food’s here!”

Your housemate’s voice rings out and you close your laptop, stretching as you get up.

Making your way into the living room, you see your other housemates digging into the boxes eagerly, your food sitting off to the side. Taking a seat in between them, you crack open one of your favorite drinks and start digging into your meal. They start talking about their personal lives, even revealing some new information you’d been too busy to hear about. You’re thankful that they don’t try to pry into your business, the normalcy of the conversation setting your frayed nerves at ease.

Once it’s quieted down a bit, you finally feel comfortable telling the girls about the night before.

“So, um…the reason I came in crying last night is cause, uh…I was at Sevika’s yesterday.”

Hums of disapproval come from the girls at that, they liked her well enough for never having met her but they were always going to have your back first.

“You know, to check on Powder’s project. And after I was done, she invited me to stay for dinner. Well actually, her daughter did, the oldest. She showed up before I got there as a surprise for the girls and she was kinda giving me a weird look, but I ignored it. And then,” you sigh, “while we were eating, she says she knows me from somewhere. And she fuckin’ brings up Gert.”

“She what?! How old is this kid?!”

“Around nineteen probably. She said she’s close friends with Gert’s daughter and she told her everything that happened with the wedding and the break up and all that. But she got it backwards, she told Sevika that I’m the one that cheated and that’s why I moved here, because I ruined their lives.”

Your friends are losing their minds at this point, but you start shaking your head and that gets their attention.

“But the worst part is that I didn’t even correct her. I froze like a fuckin’ coward and left. The whole time she was talking, all I could think about was how wrong she was, but I think just hearing about that whole situation from someone else, someone I don’t even know, was just validation that I’m never gonna be able to fully separate myself from that. It’s always gonna follow me, no matter how far I run from it.”

Tears are steadily streaming down your face now and your roommates all engulf you in a hug, one of them gently rubbing your back. Letting yourself go, you start crying in their arms, knowing they understand.

This is the first place you moved in after breaking it off with Gert. You had never lived with roommates before, on your own from the time you graduated high school but it was the first available spot you found and you jumped on it. Luckily, you got along with all of them and they became your friends over time.

Your roommates sit there with you for what feels like forever, letting you get it all out of your system. When you finally get your breathing under control, it’s one of them who speaks up first.

“If I ever see that kid, just say the word and we’ll let her have it.”

One of the others chimes in.

“Yeah, who the hell does she think she is? She wasn’t even there when it actually went down.”

You chuckle, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“Guys, she’s just protecting her mom. If I were in her shoes, I’d have done the same thing.”

“Eh, still. She’s old enough to be able to think a little bit.”

Shrugging, you’re over the conversation now, glad to have gotten it all out of your system. A big yawn escapes from your mouth and you decide it’s time for bed.

“I think that’s it for me, guys, it’s been a long day.”

They nod, knowing that having to relive that took a lot out of you. They each hug you again, letting you know that they’re there if you ever need to talk. With one final swig of your drink, you get up and throw away your containers in the trash, telling the girls good night and retreating back to your room.

By the time Monday rolls around, you and Sevika haven’t talked at all and it’s almost time for Powder’s project to be presented. It’s over Zoom with one of the members of the science fair committee and you’ve been prepping her for days beforehand so your nerves this morning aren’t because of that.

Initially, you had told Powder that you’d come over to run through it one last time before the official presentation but after that debacle a couple days before, you were sure Sevika wouldn’t want you in her house. Luckily, technology has advanced so you let Powder know you would FaceTime her instead and stay on through the Zoom call for moral support.

She was upset you weren’t going to be physically present but she understood the circumstances and you assured her that you’d always be there for her when it came to school. You texted Sevika the same this morning so she was kept in the loop and all you got back was a thumbs up on the message. It shouldn’t have stung the way it did but you tried your best to shove that feeling down for the time being, there was a more important issue at hand.

About an hour before her video chat, you call Powder from your desk, writing down the key points you want her to hit as your laptop rings. She answers with a smile and a “Hey Teach!”, causing you to let out a genuine smile for the first time in days. This is why you chose teaching, you remind yourself.

After quick hellos, Powder sets the phone down and the two of you start going through the presentation. A couple minutes into it, Sevika walks into frame, cleaning up the area that will be visible on the Zoom call. Putting aside your personal feelings at the moment, you greet the woman and only receive a curt nod in return.

Deciding not to dwell on it, you continue talking to Powder, making sure she’s using all of the correct terminology and engaging with you while doing it. Once you think she’s got it down, you give her a pep talk, reminding her of how smart and talented she is, and how even if this doesn’t pan out, it doesn’t mean she should give up on her work.

Little do you know, Sevika is listening intently to your conversation, trying her hardest not to turn around and say something. The way you’re talking to Powder with such sincerity makes her chest warm, you really do care about her, not just as a student, but as a person. She wishes your guys’ situation wasn’t in the place it was, but for now, all she can do is silently agree.

Eventually, it’s time for the official presentation and Powder sets her phone off to the side before answering the other call, smiling at you while you give her two big thumbs up. The committee member greets her, sounding bored as ever but you know she won’t let that discourage her. Starting off strong, she takes all the notes you gave her during practice and puts them into motion, painting an amazing picture and bringing her idea to life. You even hear an intrigued “Hmm” from the woman in the computer and hope that bodes well for Powder.

She finishes the demonstration with a flourish and a smile, proud of herself just like you told her she should be. The board member doesn’t give much away, just telling Powder that they’ll be in touch, and ends the call. You let out a loud cheer, telling her how amazing she did. Sevika scoops her up into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, letting her know how proud she is of her.

Walking over to the phone, Powder picks it up and you can see how pink her cheeks are, nerves finally showing.

“Man, that was intense. A couple times, I thought I was gonna pass out,” Powder giggles, grabbing her forehead for emphasis. Laughing with her, the two of you chat for a few minutes before you remember something.

“Hey, can you pass the phone to your mom? I need to talk logistics with her.”

Powder’s eyes widen a bit, looking off to the side before answering.

“Uhh, yeah, here.”

The phone moves back and forth before a familiar face shows up on screen.

“Hey.”

You take a second to look at Sevika before responding. She seems tired, and you’re sure you’re not faring much better.

“Hi. So I just wanted to go over the next steps really quickly. The committee is gonna email me directly with their decision, whether she makes it to the next round or not. It’s gonna be about two weeks, so beginning-ish of January most likely, and I’ll let you guys know as soon as they tell me anything.”

“Wait, so they’re not gonna reach out to us?”

Sevika can’t help but be surprised, they already have her contact information, why wouldn’t they just email her?

“They do it by school because sometimes there’s multiple students submitting so it’s less emails for them to send. And sometimes parents get pretty pissed their kid doesn’t get picked and send their own emails back.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense.”

Sevika was just hoping she wouldn’t have to rely on you for an answer. Not that she didn’t trust you, but now she still had to be somewhat in contact with you for at least two more weeks.

“Okay, then. We’ll wait for their answer, I guess.”

You nod, unsure of what to say now. You’re still not used to being awkward with Sevika.

“I gotta go prepare for another student’s presentation, but I’ll give you a heads up when they give me an answer. Bye, Sevika.”

Hearing her name in your mouth causes her heart to twinge a little, but she doesn’t show it.

“Goodbye.”

Hanging up, she closes her eyes and lets out a sigh. A noise behind her startles her and she suddenly remembers where she is. Looking around, she spots Powder in the corner near her project, looking like she’s been caught.

“C’mon, we need to clean up.”

Powder starts gathering some of the supplies off the table while Sevika starts wrapping up the wiring.

“Mom?”

Sevika looks up from her task, noticing Powder’s contemplative expression.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Pausing her movement, Sevika turns her body towards her daughter.

“Sure, what’s on your mind, babe?”

“Do you…” Powder’s words trail off, trying to figure out if she should even ask this. Sevika stays quiet, letting her sort out her thoughts on her own accord. After a moment, she finally speaks.

“Do you like Teach?”

Sevika’s mind freezes, trying to understand how to approach this question.

“Well, of course I like her. She’s a great teacher, I heard her talking to you earlier before your presentation.”

Powder is unconvinced by that answer and crosses her arms.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Feeling her neck heat up, Sevika doesn’t know what to say and tries to redirect her line of questioning. Her honesty policy might have to take a backseat this time.

“Powder, what’s this about? Why are you asking me this?”

“I’m not blind Mom, I know what a crush looks like.”

Sevika’s eyes widen, she wasn’t expecting this turn in the conversation.

“It’s not that simple—”

Powder cuts her off, her voice becoming firm.

“It is that simple, you either have that kind of feeling for someone or you don’t.”

A glare from her mom causes Powder to reel in her attitude, just wanting her to understand where she’s coming from.

“Look, I can tell there’s something between you guys. And I know that people can be just friends, but this doesn’t seem like that.”

Sevika lets out a sigh, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Powder, even if I did have feelings for her, it still would be complicated.”

Powder raises an eyebrow, waiting for her mom to elaborate. Sevika struggles with the proper wording, she never wanted to have this conversation with her if there was nothing to really say, but she can clearly sense whatever’s been going on, and she deserves as much of the truth as she can give her.

“What your sister brought up the other day was a valid point. I don’t agree with the way she did it, but if that’s true, and it seems to be, I have to take that into consideration.”

“But why, that’s in the past!”

“Because Powder, if she cheated on someone with kids before, who’s to say she won’t do it again?!”

The air in the room vanishes at that, both of them with pained expressions on their faces.

“Look,” Sevika sighed, “there are things I have to think about because I have you girls. You three will always be my number one priority above everything, no matter what.”

Powder looks down at that. She can understand where Sevika is coming from, but she’s seen how much she’s sacrificed for them and it doesn’t sit right with her.

“But Mom, you deserve to be happy too. I just think you should talk to Teach about what happened, maybe she had a different reason to break up with that lady.”

A short laugh leaves Sevika’s mouth, she wishes she still had that innocence. Letting her features soften, she walks over to Powder and places her hands on her shoulders, crouching down so they’re eye level.

“I appreciate you caring about me so much, I really do. But you’re young, and you haven’t experienced all the things I have yet. Sometimes…things don’t work out the way you want them to.”

Sevika continues, not wanting to just bash you knowing how much you mean to her.

“She’s still an amazing teacher and mentor to you, and for that I’m grateful. But anything else is out of the picture for me.”

Powder frowns, nodding as she takes in what Sevika is saying.

“Okay, if you say so.”

Hugging her daughter, Sevika sighs, she wishes things hadn’t gone this way, but as usual, she makes do with what she’s been given.

“I meant it earlier when I said how proud of you I am. That project is insane, I can’t believe you did all that.”

Looking up at Sevika, Powder grins.

“Right?! I was so scared it wasn’t gonna work out how I wanted but it did. I really hope I get into the next round.”

Sevika can’t believe how much she lucked out with this kid. Brains and compassion.

“You know what? Let’s do something, I’ll make your favorites for dinner and dessert tonight, how about that?”

“Yes! O-M-G, you haven’t done that in forever, thanks Mom!”

Powder runs inside to tell her sisters how the presentation went and Sevika heads in a bit after, putting thoughts of you out of her head and remembering everything else she has to be grateful for.

Winter break comes and goes without you or Sevika reaching out a single time. She takes the girls on vacation to see some family they haven’t visited in a while, and you occupy yourself with catching up on your reality shows and prepping for the new semester.

That doesn’t mean you’re not constantly reminded of each other, though. A song on your playlist that you introduced Sevika to will start playing, Powder or Isha will want to watch a book turned movie you mentioned to her, etc. It makes it impossible not to think of the other and how close you were starting to get.

One night after having a wine and spa day with your roommates, you even got drunk enough to download a dating app to try and see what else was out there. That only lasted until the next morning when you remembered it existed and promptly deleted it.

The most embarrassing part is that you were treating this like a breakup when you were never even dating her. Your roommates tried making you feel better, having been in your shoes before, but nothing helped. Now that your window had closed, you wanted nothing more than to have a normal conversation with her, like you did before.

Sevika had it worse, not only were her own thoughts constantly reminding her of you, so were her kids. When they went to the aquarium, Isha brought up fun facts you had told her about certain fish. When they visited a major landmark, Powder bought a keychain to bring back to you because you liked to collect them. You were inescapable. She almost couldn’t wait for them to go back to school just so she could have her own thoughts back.

The only one who didn’t bring you up was Vi, for obvious reasons. Every time her sisters did, she would roll her eyes and try to change the conversation, sometimes successful, most times not. She hadn’t realized how important you had become to her family in the seemingly short time they had been living there, and if it wasn’t for what she knew, she’d have loved it, she was always hoping Sevika would meet a decent woman and settle down.

Thinking about it irritated her all over again, and she groaned, catching the attention of both Powder and Caitlyn. The three of them were spread out on beach towels as Isha dragged Sevika down to the water, wanting to collect seashells.

“What, Vi?”

Powder glances at her sister over her sunglasses, she was trying to take a nap but she was being dramatic as usual and making it impossible.

“Nothing, just thinking.”

“Obviously it’s something if you keep moaning and groaning. Just spit it out.”

Vi flips her sister off and Caitlyn looks towards the water to make sure Sevika isn’t seeing this.

“Back at you, bro.”

Powder sticks a perfectly painted middle finger up at Vi and the two begin bickering, much to Caitlyn’s amusement.

“You’re okay though, right? It’s not anything bad, like, failing a class, or whatever?”

A gentle voice speaks out a couple minutes later and Vi looks over at her little sister who has an apprehensive look on her face. Slightly frowning, Vi reaches out and lightly ruffles Powder’s hair, much to the younger girl’s annoyance.

“No, I’m fine, don’t worry. I was just thinking about Sev and…your teacher.”

“Oh.”

The confession brings about an uncomfortable air between the two sisters, unlike anything they’ve experienced before. In the past, if they ever disagreed on something, they would try to convince the other why they were right or at least have a conversation about it. When it came to you, however, a dialogue felt unapproachable.

But today, that would change.

“Vi—“

The teenager whips her head around to look at Powder, narrowing her eyes as if to say ‘don’t try to convince me’. Undeterred, Powder continues.

“I know your friend was there when all that stuff went down between her mom and Teach, but I don’t know, that just doesn’t seem like something she would do.”

The older of the two scoffs at that.

“Right, cause you met this lady when, a couple months ago? You don’t actually know her, you know that right?”

“Okay but Mom’s known her the same amount of time and she trusts her, so doesn’t that say something? And also, I can tell when someone’s cool or not, thank you.”

Shaking her head, Vi looks out towards the water before she refocuses back on her sister.

“You’re a kid Powder, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh fuck off, you’re only three years older than me, calm down.”

Powder rolls her eyes at her sister, she always had to act all dark and mysterious but she could see right through it.

“What, just cause your girlfriend’s here, you’re gonna act like you’re hot shit? Does she know you still sleep with your blanket?”

A giggle sounds out on the other side of Vi and the tips of her ears start turning red.

“That’s not the point. The point is, I know what that lady did once, and that’s enough for me. Sev can do way better.”

Powder kicks her foot out, sending a small flurry of sand up in the air.

“I get that, but I’m telling you, I know Teach, and I don’t believe that’s exactly what happened.”

“Look, if I’m wrong, I have no problem admitting that, but I’m telling you that I trust my friend told me the truth.”

Vi starts to get frustrated that her sister isn’t taking her side on this and takes a deep breath to calm down.

“I hope you’re right Vi, otherwise Mom’s missing out on a really cool person.”

With that, Powder stands up, adjusts her sunglasses, and starts walking down to meet Sevika and Isha where they’re dipping their feet in the ocean.

Laying back with a sigh, Vi closes her eyes and rubs her forehead with the heel of her hand.

“Did I fuck up? What if I am wrong and that’s not what happened, do you think Sev would ever forgive me?”

Unsure of how to respond to that, Caitlyn puts her hand on Vi’s propped up leg and squeezes it.

“I think…you did what you thought was best for your family. Whether you were right or not.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

Propping herself up on her elbows, Vi squints at her girlfriend.

“I need honesty, Cait, not poli-sci major answers. I might’ve ruined a future relationship, this is real shit.”

Knowing how much her girlfriend can beat herself up over things like this, Caitlyn looks into her eyes, her expression turning firm.

“What I’m saying is you can’t control how events unfold, you can only control your actions in the moment. What’s done is done. All you can do now is support your family the way you’ve been doing.”

That brings about an even deeper frown on Vi’s face, but it’s the truth and she knows it. She only ever has their best interest at heart, but sometimes it bites her in the ass, like this. Throwing herself back on the towel, she covers her face with both hands.

“Fuck.”

Later that night, Sevika and the girls are watching a movie, but everyone except her and Vi has fallen asleep at some point. She also begins to nod off just as Vi asks her a question.

“Hey Sev?”

Blinking herself awake, Sevika looks toward the teenager sitting beside her, seeing the serious look on her face and sitting up.

“What’s up, kid?”

“Would you ever get mad at me? Like so mad you’d never talk to me again?”

Now Sevika’s worried, and potential situations start running through her head.

“What do you mean? You didn’t fail a class or something right?”

“No! Why does everyone keep saying that…”

She lets out a sigh of relief at that, she was barely able to afford Vi’s schooling as it is.

“Okay, what is it then?”

“Just…if I ever said something to protect you or the girls and I turned out to be wrong, would you be that mad at me?”

Sevika has a feeling she knows what this is about but chooses not to say anything at the moment.

“Kid, you’d have to do something pretty insane for me to never talk to you again.”

The teenager is visibly relieved and Sevika knows she should elaborate.

“I know you carry a lot on your shoulders as the oldest, and I wish I could say I can relate or know what it’s like, but I don’t. What I do know is that you’ve done the best you can given the circumstances. Neither of us chose this situation and I don’t mean this in a fucked up way, but I’m proud to be raising you.”

Vi’s holding back tears at this point, both from the anxiety of potentially being wrong about your past and the fact that Sevika said she’s proud of her. Engulfing the woman in a hug, she shoves her face into her shoulder to muffle her cries.

Surprised at her reaction, Sevika returns the embrace and gently rubs her back, knowing this has been building up over time. Vi’s never one to cry easily so she doesn’t push her for an explanation. After a few minutes, she calms down and now looks embarrassed at the fact that she fell apart so quickly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do all that.”

Sevika hums, even after all these years, Vi is still reluctant to show emotion in front of other people.

“It’s okay, kid. Seems like you needed it.”

“Yeah, I, uh, didn’t realize I was holding that much in.”

Frowning at that, Sevika decides if she should ask for more information or see if Vi will volunteer it herself. Turns out, neither happens.

“Thanks for this, Sev. I know it hasn’t been easy raising all of us. Especially me.”

The woman softens at the shift in conversation, Vi always knew what spots to hit.

“I do what I can, you kids deserve it.”

Nodding, Vi stands up and stretches, waking and gathering the other girls that were sleeping. They all sleepily stumble to the room they’re sharing, bidding Sevika good night and shutting the door quietly. Thoughts now on the conversation her and Vi just had, her mind wanders to their journey to this moment. She doesn’t find much sleep that night.

The evening before school starts back up, you’re once again at your desk, getting all your supplies ready for the new semester. You’re just about to shut your laptop and head to bed when a new email notification pops up and the subject line forms a pit in your stomach.

Results of first round submissions for…

Oh shit, it’s time.

Taking a deep breath, you click on the email and prepare for either good or bad news. Best case scenario, both Ekko and Powder make it through, worst case, neither of them do. Speeding through the unnecessarily long message, you get to the end and find what you were searching for.

”We have decided to submit both of your students, Ekko…Powder…to the next round—“

“Yes!”

You jump out of your chair and clutch your head, you can’t believe this is happening. Your roommate happens to be walking by at that exact moment and you run out to hug her, excitement taking over as you spin her around.

“Whoa, what’s the good news?!”

“Both my kids got accepted into the next round of the science fair!”

Feeling like you’re walking on air, nothing could bring you back down to earth right now.

“No way, that’s amazing dude! I’m so happy for you. Have you let them know yet?”

Except that.

“Oh…right. Not yet, I literally just read the email. I should probably go do that.”

Awkwardly smiling at her, you spin on your heel and walk back into your room, closing the door behind you. Sighing heavily, your victory feels short lived as you think about having to write a work email before school is officially back.

Opening up a new tab, you write a congratulatory message to Ekko and his parents, letting them know that you’ll be passing along the new deadlines and requirements when you’re made aware of them, and that you’re excited for the new semester as well. Sending that, you open another tab to fire the next one off, starting to type the receiving address and you freeze.

You haven’t spoken to Sevika in weeks now and though you promised to let her know the results as soon as you found out, an email just feels so impersonal, especially considering how close to Powder you are. Swallowing your nerves, you pull out your phone instead and open your text thread with her.

Can you meet me at the school tomorrow when you pick up Powder? It’s important.

Less than a minute later, your phone vibrates and you see that Sevika just gave the message a thumbs up. Again. Sighing, you guess that’s better than being ignored.

Plugging your phone in, you go through your bedtime routine before sliding under your blankets, ready to fall asleep. Unfortunately for you, your thoughts keep drifting to the fact that you’re going to see Sevika in person again, butterflies showing up in your stomach uninvited.

Trying to remind yourself that you’re not exactly on good terms at the moment, images of her quickly start flashing through your mind. Even thinking about the fact that this was actually about Powder and not the two of you didn’t help. Fuck.

You couldn’t wait to get to school tomorrow.

taglist! @daughterofthemoons-stuff @vii-v @runawaybaby3 @ferxanda @sevikas-whore @vikashoneybee @sleepingwasp @savedforlaterr @lia-winther

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (31/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The promised back massage - and friends help each other.

Warnings: 18+ (thigh riding, inexperienced!reader)

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm so proud. Charlie won his home race! I'm still crying. feedback is appreciated!

"So?" asks Charles as you move further and further away from the beautiful house. "What do you think of them?"

You smile at him. "You have a really great family, Charles. Maybe a little wild, but it's obvious how much you love each other."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "I love them more than anything. Ever since my father died, we've taken every opportunity to spend time together." He swallows briefly. "We appreciate each other. And that's worth a lot."

You carefully reach for his hand, which is resting on the shift stick, and turn it so that you can interlace your fingers with his. You place it on your lap and stroke the back of his hand in gentle circles with your thumb. "Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me."

"Actually, I didn't have any other choice. I think my mother would have kicked down our front door if I kept you from her." Charles has to grin. "I definitely wouldn't have survived that."

"So that's how it is," you grin and let go of his hand with mock outrage. "So you only took me with you out of pure self-protection."

Before you can cross your arms in front of your chest, he grabs your hand again and brings it up to his mouth so that he can tentatively blow a kiss on your knuckles. "Do you believe me when I tell you that it's incredibly important to me that you know my family? And that you like them?"

You feel the heat rush to your face as he brushes his lips over the thin skin of your fingers. You take a quick breath and stare at him before nervously - and slightly turned on - looking away from him. "Maybe." You try to sound as nonchalant as possible and hope that Charles doesn't notice the tremble in your voice. "I'm definitely glad Arthur didn't do anything to you. I bet he was a kid back then who just bit other children."

Charles has to laugh at that. Loudly and fervently, and you don't know if he does it on purpose, but he presses your hand firmly against his muscular chest and holds it there. You feel the vibration under your fingertips and air rushing through his lungs, and his laughter is so infectious that you can't help but join in.

When he finally lets go of your hand, he wipes the tears from his face. He takes another deep breath before letting out one last laugh and then places his hand on your thigh like it's the most normal thing in the world. The warmth of his skin almost burns through the fabric of your clothes. You try not to let it show. "Believe me, mon amour. I should even have a scar from his teeth somewhere."

When you stop at a traffic light, Charles leans forward a little and pushes his back through. When you hear a few of his vertebrae crack, you grimace. "Does your back hurt?"

"A little." He leans back into the seat again, but stretches his neck to the side. "Not being able to lean back for hours is more uncomfortable than you think." When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye and smirks, you lightly punch his shoulder. 

"You idiot." Charles laughs in response. "You're just after a back massage!"

"You take what you can get." His hand squeezes your thigh. 

You roll your eyes. "You could have just asked for a massage, you know? I imagine the stool isn't the most comfortable piece of furniture."

Charles shrugs. "I didn't want it to be weird in any way."

Your gaze focuses on his slender fingers on your leg. "Do you mean because of this morning?" you ask meekly. 

"Actually -" Charles clears his throat. " Because of Arthur, actually. He was hinting at something and - I don't know." He steers the car onto the street where your apartment is. When he takes his hand off your thigh to change gear, you miss his touch. Without another word, he parks the Renault in the building's underground garage and without looking at you, you take the elevator to your apartment. 

The silence between you is a little awkward. The fact that you brought up the incident from this morning has somehow killed the mood and you'd like to slap yourself for it. You could have left it at that - after all, you had spoken to each other and agreed that everything was fine between you - but you had stupidly cast it in a different light.

You get ready for bed in separate rooms in silence. While Charles brushes his teeth in the bathroom, you change in the bedroom and slip into comfortable shorts and a shirt that you're not sure if it belongs to you or Charles. When you run into each other in the hallway, you don't look at each other, but pass each other with lowered eyes. 

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and are about to bang your forehead against the porcelain of the sink. Until just now, the day had been wonderful. You met his wonderful family, had a fun evening and although you had a little slip-up this morning, Charles and you got on really well. Your friendship hasn't been tarnished and apparently you've been so good to each other that the Leclerc family think you're a couple. 

That's another thing you need to sort out. Between the two of you and definitely with his family. Even though you've only got to know the Leclercs properly since today, you've already grown fond of them and it doesn't feel right to fib to everyone. Above all, it doesn't feel right to Pascale, who has invited you into her home and insists that you spend Christmas with them. Pascale, who has such a big heart and didn't hesitate for a moment to take you into the family. 

It's not fair to her - even if a small part of you wants to keep things the way they are. Even if it doesn't reflect reality, the word girlfriend doesn't ring false in your ears. The thought of it makes you feel warm and somehow the blood tingles in your veins. 

You blame it on the long day you've had and the fact that you're too emotionally exhausted to put one and one together. How crazy would it be if you were actually Charles' girlfriend?

You immediately push the thought aside when you return to the bedroom and see Charles lying on the bed. He continues to scroll through his phone without looking at you and doesn't even glance at you as you slip under the covers on your side of the bed. 

You want to press your face into the pillow and scream, but you can't do that because it definitely wouldn't ease the tension in the air. You could also cry quietly to yourself, but Charles would notice even that. But you could also -

"Am I still getting the back massage?" Confused, you look over at your friend, who puts his cell phone aside and looks at you. He shrugs and then runs his hand through his hair. "You said I should just ask. And I thought I'd try my luck." His hand wanders over the comforter and when he finds yours, he intertwines your fingers. 

"Charles -" you begin, but you don't know how to finish the sentence. You're relieved that he doesn't take offense at your comment and wants to ease the situation by pretending nothing happened. You would love to kiss him for it. The thought sends a warm shiver down your spine.

"Sorry," Charles apologizes as he mistakes your awkwardness for hesitation. "It was a stupid idea. I just thought -"

"It's okay," you interrupt him and squeeze his hand, whereupon he squeezes back twice. "Apparently the stool was super uncomfortable. And friends help each other, don't they?" 

The Monegasque returns your gentle smile. "Friends help each other," he repeats, his gaze flickering briefly from your eyes to your lips and back again. " 'Um - should I take my shirt off? I think that would be smarter, don't you?"

Before you can say anything back, his hand disengages from yours and in one elegant movement he pulls the garment over his head and throws it to the other end of the bed. You watch the muscles in his back flex as he slides down the bed a little and lies on his stomach without hesitation, as if he can't wait another second. 

You have to strain to tear your gaze away from him. "I think I still have some body lotion somewhere." You quickly run back to the bathroom, where you spot the cream on the shelf next to the door, and sprint back to Charles, who has put his head in his hands and is smiling at you. You stand uncertainly in front of the bed, swaying from one foot to the other. "Where - I mean - how -?"

"Just sit on my legs," he says gently and pulls the blanket off him so that you can sit on top of him. "I think that's easier than from the side. Isn't it?"

"I - I don't know," you reply quietly and stop in your tracks. Of course, it would make more sense to sit astride his legs, but then you would also be sitting on him. And you definitely don't want things to get weird between you again. 

"Just sit down, please. I won't bite." Charles reaches out and grabs your hand to pull you towards him. He doesn't let go until you swing your leg over his and get comfortable on the back of his thigh. "See? It's not so bad, is it?"

You're glad he can't see how hard you're swallowing. The fine hairs tickle the soft skin on the inside of your thighs and heat shoots into your face as you slide your butt around to find the best possible position. When you finally find it, you remove the cap from the body lotion. "Careful, it might be a bit cold."

"It's okay, it can't be that bad - oh fuck!" Charles exclaims as you pour the contents of the bottle onto his back. Goosebumps immediately spread across his back and arms and you have to stifle your laughter. "Don't you dare laugh at me. My goodness, you could have warmed up the cream in your hand!"

"Sorry," you grin and close the bottle again before placing it on the bed next to your knee. "I thought it would be easier this way."

"It's definitely meaner," Charles replies, glancing over his shoulder at you. "You owe me a longer massage for that. At least half an hour." 

"No problem," you smile. You hope he doesn't notice your hesitation, because it takes a few seconds before your head commands your hands to rest on his broad back and spread the cream. With your fingers spread apart, you glide over his spine, his shoulder blades to his neck, where you feel the first lump under your fingertips. Slowly, but firmly, you press your thumb over the spot. 

And Charles moans shamelessly. "Fuck, that feels good." He closes his eyes as you continue to work on his neck. "I think you've missed your profession."

"You think so?" you ask softly. Your fingers glide to his hairline, his muscular neck and back over his shoulders. "Maybe I wouldn't be unemployed right now."

"I'd hire you in a heartbeat." As you press the side of his left shoulder blade with your thumbs, he exhales audibly. "Yeah, right there."

Smiling, you look at him before returning to your task. "I think you're too old for that stool. I'll sit on it next time."

"You're only saying that because you're hoping for a massage too." Charles' voice sounds rough and deep, completely relaxed. With his eyes closed, he enjoys your touch and misses you biting your lower lip. 

Your mouth goes dry at the thought of feeling his hands on your bare skin. You'd be only too happy to repeat this morning's incident if it meant that nothing would change between you. That you would remain friends. 

Nervously, you slide around on his legs. "Maybe."

You don't receive an answer. In comfortable silence, you run your hands over his back, pressing certain points in his muscles that make the Monegasque hum and moan softly. It's nice to know that he can let himself go with you and that you seem to be doing him good. 

Your hands wander down to the hem of his shorts and before you can really think about it, your thumbs slide just underneath so that you can massage the marks the shorts leave on his skin too. Charles takes a gasping breath and for a moment you think you've gone a step too far, but Charles doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks. 

"I miss this."

You tilt your head, even though he's not looking at you. "What do you mean?"

"Being touched," he answers your question quietly.

You pull your fingers out from under the hem and let them glide over his spine. "We touch each other."

Charles lets out a sigh. "I know. But - I don't know." His mouth twists into a thin line. "That's something else."

"Explain it to me." 

"It's been months since I've touched anyone, or vice versa. And I'm not talking about friendly touching. What we do," he explains. You don't know why your heart tightens as if it has heard bad news. 

Your fingers trail over his shoulders and then down his arm. Goosebumps spread under your fingertips. "Okay."

"Not that I don't think it's nice," he tries to get his act together. "I love it when I hold your hand or when we cuddle in bed. That's not even up for debate." When your fingers reach his wrist, he grabs them and squeezes them twice. "I don't know how to describe it." 

"What exactly do you mean by 'touch'?" you try to draw him out. "I mean, apparently there must be a difference between what you mean and what we do."

Charles shrugs and lets go of your hand so you can continue. "I miss having my hair played with. Or having my legs rubbed." Lying down, he runs his hand through his hair once, "I don't know."

You chew the inside of your cheek. "Do you mean - I don't know - like more intimate touching?" When you hear yourself say that, you try to turn it around again. "I mean - I'm not talking about sex. But rather that emotional connection? That you feel close to someone and touching them, like playing with your fingers or rubbing your arms, feels different?"

Charles turns his head in your direction so he can look at you. "I miss being touched more intimately. I really crave it." He turns under you so that he is now lying on his back. He leans on his elbows. You don't know where to put your hands, which is why you hold them strangely in the air. You try to fix your gaze on his face, but it flickers briefly to his abs. Something that doesn't escape Charles' notice. "What about you?"

"What about me?" 

"My relationship went down the drain months ago. It's obvious I'm touch starved." He sits up straight and reaches for your hands, placing them tentatively and hesitantly on his chest. "I can't stop thinking about this morning."

You can feel his heart beating under your palm and there's a sparkle in his beautiful green eyes. "We're friends," you state the obvious. The one you agreed on. 

Charles nods. "And I don't want that to change either. I really don't." He exhales and you feel his warm breath on your face. "But don't you miss it? Being touched? Being touched intimately?"

As he licks his lips, your brain shuts down for a moment. "I've never - I don't - I -" you stumble over your words and heat rushes to your cheeks. You don't know why you're confiding in him. You don't know why your hands are wandering from his chest up to his shoulders. The only thing you can feel is Charles' arm around you, pulling you closer to him. His one leg slides between yours so that you're sitting on his bare thigh. You just hope he can't feel your arousal pooling in your shorts.

"Mon amour," he whispers and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. From there, his fingers glide along the soft skin of your neck, over your collarbone, along your arm, until your fingers intertwine again. "Your shorts are pretty thin." He leans forward slightly and lays a feather-light kiss on your neck. You blow all the fuses. "I can feel you dripping for me. Let me help you." His hand settles on your hip and gently he pushes you back a little on his leg, but only to pull you forward again. Electricity shoots through your veins as you moan shamelessly into his face. "Friends help each other. All you have to do is say yes."

Something primal flares in his eyes as he brings your hand to his mouth and places his lips on your knuckles. A gentle gesture that is in complete contrast to how you feel inside. Fire blazes under your skin, heat coursing through your whole body as he places your hand against his cheek, then presses a kiss to your palm. "Nothing changes," you murmur, to which Charles nods. 

"Nothing changes," he confirms. "We stay friends." His hands slowly slide under your bottom, under the hem of your shorts. You feel his hot skin on yours as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh. "I promise."

Your crotch rubs against his leg with such relish and when the hem of your shorts catches on your clit, you burn out all your fuses. "Yes."

Charles' lips find your neck as his hands cup your ass and guide you over his leg. With your mouth open and your eyebrows furrowed, you dig your fingers into his shoulder blades. Pleasure pulses through your body as his mouth moves over your neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin but not lingering long enough to leave a mark. Each kiss is gentle, the complete opposite to his grip on your ass and the way he rubs you over him. 

"Charles." Your voice is little more than a sigh and you think you can feel his raging boner against your leg, but the thought quickly fades as one of his hands pulls away from you. Instantly you miss his touch, his skin on yours, but before you can do anything, his fingers reach into your hair to gently pull your head back. 

"I'm here, mon amour," he breathes against the newly won space on your neck. Gently, he sucks where your pulse is, and you think you feel his teeth against your skin for a moment. "I'm here."

You don't know where to put your hands, so you just use them to press his face closer to you. You feel his tongue at the point where your neck meets your shoulder and arch towards him. "Please."

You don't know what you're asking for, but Charles knows all the better for it. He rocks you over his leg, which is wet and slippery from your arousal, and as your knee gently bumps against his cock, he moans into your ear. 

Absently, your hands disengage from his hair and scrape down his chest to the hem of his shorts, but before you can go an inch further, his thumb and forefinger curl around your wrists. "Mon amour, today is about you," he murmurs, kissing your cheek as he notices your disappointed look. "Don't pout. Otherwise we'll stop here and now." 

You move over his thigh on your own and, without taking the chance, you nudge his boner again with your knee. "But you said -" you begin, but Charles lets go of your hands, only to hold them behind your back. 

"Nuh-uh." His lips find their place against your collarbone. Apparently he notices that you close your eyes, because his free hand rests gently against your throat. "Look at me, mon amour." His voice is no more than a gasp as you open your eyes and look up at him pleadingly. You want him closer, want to feel his lips on yours, his cock splitting you in half. You want him to ruin you for any other men.

You approach the cliff, willing yourself to plunge down it, but when you close your eyes again, Charles merely presses your lap against his leg, preventing you from moving any further. You look at him in shock. "Charles."

"Fuck, I love it when you say my name." He holds you tight, chest to chest, and you try to move somehow, to rub against him. And he lets you. His hand loosens from your wrists while the other continues to rest on the column of your throat, but doesn't squeeze. "Look at me, mon amour," he repeats to himself, shamelessly sliding his hand inside your shorts so he can cup your ass. With one final movement, he pulls you forward, the hem of your shorts rubbing perfectly over your swollen bundle of nerves and white lightning flashes through your veins. "Look at me when you come for me."

And you do.