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that-sarcastic-writer · 3 months ago

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A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here.

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in.

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful.

Eric remembered that.

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name.

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares.

Shit, were you supposed to say something?

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face.

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it.

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.”

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets.

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder.

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head.

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled.

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room.

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?�� He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes.

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better.

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his.

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.”

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you.

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours.

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit.

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot.

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face.

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm.

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left.

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass.

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck.

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.”

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days.

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs.

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big.

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.”

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul.

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.”

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak.

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down.

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself.

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.”

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

#eric draven x reader #eric draven smut #eric draven 2024 #Eric Draven #the crow 2024 #the crow

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51voices · 12 days ago

Text

Ex-Factor: Behind the Smile

Kinkvember Day 3: Blackmail (Yandere Jiheon)

Fromis_9 Baek Jiheon x Male reader

AN: Daylight savings + weekend = Earlier update 💖😊

In the dazzling universe of K-pop, where glitzy performances and fanfare reign supreme, love often becomes a bittersweet melody, intricately woven into the fabric of fame, fortune, and relentless ambition. Amidst the swirling lights of concerts, the deafening cheers from adoring fans, and the ceaseless training sessions, two talented idols—Jiheon and you—found a quiet oasis in each other’s hearts.

From the moment you met, it felt as if destiny had intertwined your fates. Jiheon, a rising star with a captivating stage presence that could light up any arena, had a magnetic charm that drew you in. Your own charisma, a sweet yet powerful aura, complemented hers perfectly. Together, you became a dynamic duo, weathering the storms of the industry while nurturing a love that blossomed in the less glamorous and quieter corners of life.

Your relationship was not built on grand gestures but on cherished moments behind the scenes. Late-night phone calls stretched into early mornings, where soft laughter and shared dreams painted a beautiful tapestry of intimacy. Cozy dinners became your refuge from the demanding schedules that dictated your lives, where you exchanged stories, hopes, and fears over steaming bowls of ramen or comforting plates of kimchi.

Your romance seemed like a fairytale. You were the couple everyone dreamed of being, seemingly pursuing your aspirations together with the promise of a shared future. From the outside, it appeared as though you cheered each other on during rehearsals, hearts racing not just for personal triumphs but for the joy of achieving success together on grand stages. Yet, little did they realize, there was much more beneath the surface.

Stolen kisses between dance practice, secret notes exchanged backstage, and quiet walks beneath shimmering city lights became treasured memories, preserving the sweetness of your love against the bitter backdrop of industry pressures. Your relationship was a gem, rare and precious, glimmering even amid the sparkle of stardom.

Yet, the reality of K-pop stardom is that it is often fleeting and fiercely demanding. As Jiheon’s career soared, propelled by her talent and charisma, the expectations placed on her intensified, like shadows growing longer as the sun sets. With each comeback, the stakes climbed higher, drawing her deeper into the relentless cycle of training, performances, and public appearances.

As the demands of your respective careers pulled you further apart, the strain began to show. Training sessions grew longer and more exhaustive, leaving scant time for romance. Jiheon found herself grappling with a heart pulled in two directions—her dreams, glittering and tangible, clashed with the love she cherished. In her mind, thoughts spiraled: Was it selfish to hold onto this love when her career beckoned?

In moments of quiet reflection, Jiheon wrestled with the haunting belief that letting you go might be an act of love itself. Perhaps distancing herself from you would give her the freedom to reach new heights, allowing her to fully invest in her career. It was a painful paradox—the closer she got to her dreams, the more she felt she had to sacrifice.

Then came the fateful day when Jiheon finally found the courage to speak the words that had been clawing at her insides for weeks. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her hands trembling at her sides. The two of you stood in a quiet corner of the park, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows that danced around your feet.

“I think… I think we should break up.” The words tumbled out like heavy stones, each one crashing down inside you, echoing the unshakable truth that you both had been avoiding.

“It’s better this way, for both of us,” she continued, her gaze dropping to the ground, as if she could will the earth to swallow her pain. The sun flickered through the leaves overhead, but it felt as if the warmth had suddenly vanished, leaving behind an icy chill that seeped into your bones.

The enormity of her words hung in the air, heavy and stark, as if time itself had halted. You could hardly breathe as your tear-filled eyes met hers, searching for some glimmer of hope, something to hold on to. But all you saw was the anguish mirrored in her heart, reflected in those shimmering pools of despair.

“What? Jiheon… Please,” you pleaded, your voice cracking as desperation clawed at your throat. “Can’t we find another way? We’ve been through so much together. I can’t just let you go.”

She took a step back, the physical distance between you somehow amplifying the emotional chasm that had opened up. “You don’t understand,” she replied, her voice breaking as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “I love you but, our relationship is bottlenecking our progress. Things aren’t the way they used to be, and pretending will only hurt us more.”

The pain of each syllable cut deeper than any knife, reverberating within your chest like the tolling of a bell, ominously marking what felt like the end of your world. You longed to reach out, to pull her close and reassure her — both of you — that everything would be okay. But the wall of resolve in her eyes held you back.

“Is this really what you want?” you asked, your heart racing as you grasped for any thread of connection that could pull her back from this precipice. “We can work on this, together.”

Jiheon shook her head, the weight of her decision heavy on her shoulders. “It’s not healthy for us, I can't keep holding you back… or myself.”

With that, the finality of her words settled like an inescapable fog around you. In her belief that this was the right choice, a choice steeped in love and sacrifice, Jiheon felt her spirit fracture, the pieces scattering like fallen leaves caught in a relentless gust of wind.

“Please don’t do this,” you whispered, the vulnerability of your voice revealing just how unprepared you were to let go. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know,” her voice quivered, the pain evident in her expression as she stepped closer, reaching for your hand, squeezing it tightly as if to breathe life into the moment. “I'm sorry"

As her fingers slipped from yours, you felt a part of yourself tear away, and all you could do was stand there, motionless, as the world moved on around you, leaving only silence and the bittersweet taste of love lost.

The silence that followed was deafening, an echoing void that enveloped you both. You longed to reach out, to pull her back into your embrace, to tell her that love could be a guiding light rather than a hindrance. But those words caught in your throat, drowned by despair. The choice she made loomed large, instilling a heavy weight of regret that would soon settle in her heart.

-----

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. Jiheon had once been the girl who laughed in the warmth of love, the one who danced on the threshold of joy with you by her side. Now, she found herself enveloped in the unrelenting spotlight of fame, yet that brightness felt dulled without your light alongside her. Memories of their shared laughter haunted her during moments of solitude, the ghost of your love coloring her world with bittersweet shades of sorrow. As she navigated the bustling stages of her career alone, the emptiness in her chest loomed large, an omnipresent reminder of your absence.

One particular night, Jiheon, trying to shake off the weight of her loneliness, stepped into a downtown club where the pulsating beats reverberated through her body. Surrounded by her group mates, she swallowed a cocktail and attempted to dance mindlessly under flashing lights that painted the room in a kaleidoscope of colors. For a fleeting moment, she felt the flicker of joy in the chaos—an illusion that quickly shattered when her eyes scanned the room.

Amidst the crowd, they landed on a sight that sent her heart racing—you, radiant and alive. You danced with abandon beside another girl, laughter spilling from your lips and merging with the booming bass into a perfect symphony of youth and freedom. The sparkle in your eyes was familiar yet painfully distant, doubling Jiheon’s heartache. A violent pang of jealousy and anger twisted in her gut like a sharp knife. How could you seem so happy without her, so completely unbothered by the void your absence had created in her heart?

In a moment of impulse, Jiheon whipped out her phone and captured a candid photo of you caught mid-laugh, blissfully unaware of the eyes that watched from the shadows. That snapshot froze you in a moment of pure joy, yet it morphed into something darker for Jiheon—a testament to her possessiveness over a love that felt just out of reach. The joyful essence of the photo twisted into a haunting reminder of what could have been, nagging at her heart like a persistent itch.

As the night wore on, the music thumping around her seemed to amplify the mixed feelings flooding through her veins—joy for your happiness mingled with regret for abandoned dreams, longing for the connection they once shared, and an undeniable ache that settled deep within her chest. Was this life of stardom truly worth the heartache and longing? She wrestled with that question as her mind spiraled between the vibrant images of what you had and the person you were now becoming without her presence.

Within the mass of dancers and flashing lights, nostalgia crashed over Jiheon like waves, drowning her in an undeniable truth: sometimes, the glitz and glam of fame pale in comparison to the warmth and richness of love. Her eyes locked onto you from across the room, a smile gracing your lips as you exchanged a casual laugh with a girl from earlier. It made her chest constrict with an unfamiliar ache, the pulse of the music no longer in sync with her own racing heartbeat.

She thumbed her phone, where the image she had taken earlier burned in her gallery. A snapshot of you and that girl, smiling, close enough that it could easily stir rumors. Jiheon knew the chaos such a photo could spark in your carefully curated idol world. A flicker of unease mingled with something darker as she stared at it, the thought of you drifting even an inch further away igniting an unsettling possessiveness inside her.

As the beat thumped, matching the thrum of blood in her ears, something began to click in her mind. Maybe it was the drinks, the warmth of the alcohol unlocking a part of her she hadn’t known existed—one that thrived on the possessive edge coursing through her. The distance she had imposed between the two of you, the careful walls and silences, now felt like chains she’d fastened herself into. The room around her blurred—dancers, lights, and music melding into a shifting, indistinct haze.

A slow smile spread across her lips, soft yet shadowed with an intensity that felt foreign, thrilling. That ever-lingering question looped in her head: Could it truly be too late to find your way back to each other?

The answer, she decided, was simple. No. It wouldn’t be, not if she had anything to do with it.

-----

The next day dawned bright and deceptively warm, sunlight streaming through Jiheon’s bedroom window like a foreboding harbinger of a day meant for clarity. Yet as she sat cross-legged on her bed, chaos swirled within her like a gathering storm. In her hands lay a photo that had the power to irrevocably change everything.

Sobering up, Jiheon’s heart raced as she wrestled with her choice. The image represented a moment of vulnerability—one that, if leaked, could shatter your carefully curated image in the idol world. The thought sent chills coursing through her veins; yet desperation gnawed at her, urging her to take an action that felt both reckless and necessary. She felt ludicrous, turning her cherished memories into a weapon, but her heart battled fiercely with her desperation.

With trembling fingers hovering hesitantly over her phone, Jiheon finally composed a chilling ultimatum: “Meet me at this hotel room tonight, or I’ll leak this photo. I know how much you value your reputation. Don't make me do this.”

As soon as she hit send, a heavy silence enveloped her space. Anxiety pooled in her stomach, and she felt the weight of her decision pressing down on her like an unbearable load. There was no turning back now. She was fully aware that this power play could lead to a scandal that would reverberate through every corner of the entertainment industry. Yet, blinded by emotion, she oscillated between anger and longing—a desperate desire for you to confront the tumultuous feelings they had both been suppressing for far too long.

The moments following were excruciating. Jiheon paced around the small hotel room, her mind racing with questions and regrets. What if you didn’t come? What if you did, but the encounter spiraled out of control? The sound of her own heartbeat thudded in her ears, amplifying the suffocating tension. She glanced at the glowing screen of her phone, waiting for the telltale sign of a response. The room felt colder, the stillness more suffocating than she had anticipated.

-----

Outside Jiheon’s hotel door, you stood in a genuine emotional whirlwind. Underneath the cacophony of your racing heartbeat was an undercurrent of dread. The chilly evening air did nothing to quell the unease gnawing at you. You stood there, grappling with thoughts of what you might find inside. The idol world was merciless, filled with the sharp teeth of scrutiny and public judgment, where one misstep could lead to downfall.

Every fiber in your being urged you to turn and walk away, to deny the pull that had dragged you to this place. Yet, deep down, you knew that this encounter was inevitable—an ending and a beginning all at once. Taking a deep breath, you raised your fist, but paused for a heartbeat, listening to the silence on the other side.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, you knocked on the door, your knuckles barely making contact before it swung open. Jiheon stood there dressed in an oversized sweatshirt that nonchalantly hung off her shoulder, emanating an allure that contradictorily disarmed you even as your heart raced with apprehension. Her casual smirk felt like a mask she wore to hide her true intentions.

“Hey, you made it! Come on in,” she chirped, her voice bubbling with false cheer as she stepped aside to let you enter. The moment you crossed the threshold, a palpable shift in the air hit you. The hotel room was more spacious than you expected, yet it felt stifling. Soft yellow lighting from the bedside lamps cast warm pools that clashed with the cold tension that hovered between you. The room was immaculately tidy, with crisp white sheets tucked tightly over the bed and modern, minimalist décor—a sterile contrast to the storm of emotions brewing in the space.

Jiheon closed the door behind you, and the sound of the lock clicking into place seemed to echo louder than it should, sending a shiver down your spine. The brightness in her eyes dimmed, replaced by an expression heavy with tension. “Thanks for coming. I know this is... unusual,” she said, each word carefully measured, her posture rigid as if bracing for impact. The energy of the room was suffocating, thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

You took a tentative step forward, eyes darting around for some kind of anchor. A plush armchair sat near the window, where the faint glow of the city bled through gauzy curtains. The muted hum of traffic below seemed worlds away, unable to penetrate the thick atmosphere pressing against your chest. Your gaze settled back on Jiheon, who stood by the door, arms folded, her face a blend of vulnerability and defiance.

“About that picture,” she began, the words slicing through the silence and drawing your attention like a blade. You swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in your throat. “Where did you even get it?” The question came out sharper than intended, but you couldn’t mask the desperation behind it.

“Does it matter?” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she shifted her weight, crossing one ankle over the other as if to project nonchalance. The effect was betrayed by the subtle tension in her jaw. “What matters is that it could ruin everything for you.” She spoke matter-of-factly, her tone unyielding. The polished veneer of the hotel room seemed to close in, amplifying every strained breath. “Your fans will go crazy, their precious, innocent maknae getting it on with a random girl in a club. Don’t even get me started with your label... we both know about your dating ban.” Her voice dropped, and she looked away momentarily, exhaling as if trying to push her doubts aside. “I don’t want all that drama. So here’s the deal.”

A wave of dread washed over you, pooling in your stomach like ice water. “What do you mean, ‘the deal’?” The question was barely more than a whisper, the fear in your voice betraying the bravado you were trying to muster. The room’s silence pressed against your ears, making the faint tick of the wall clock almost deafening.

Jiheon took a step closer, closing the already minimal space between you. The subtle scent of her perfume—a blend of jasmine and something uniquely her—suffused the air, adding to the disorientation. Her eyes glimmered with a mix of determination and something else, something unreadable that made your pulse race. “I’ll delete the photo, but in return, I want… something from you.”

The implication in her words hung between you like a storm cloud. “What are you saying?” you asked, the room’s oppressive heat making it hard to breathe. The Jiheon you knew was warm and disarming, a friend who had stood by you through countless late-night chats and shared secrets. This Jiheon, with her calculating eyes and steady stance, felt foreign.

“Come on, don’t act so surprised,” she said, a smile ghosting her lips without warmth. “The way this industry works, sometimes you have to play the game.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Besides, it’ll be fun. Just one night, and then I’ll make sure the photo disappears forever. No one has to know.”

You felt the room spin, the reality of her words slamming into you with suffocating force. Your eyes flickered to the unmade bed, the impersonal art on the walls, the sterile cleanliness that seemed to mock the chaos between you. The thought of your career unraveling, of headlines splashed across tabloids and the faces of your fans twisted in disappointment, made your hands clench into fists.

“What if I don’t agree?” you managed to say, the words brittle and sharp.

Jiheon leaned back against the corner of the desk, crossing her arms in a gesture that was more defensive than she intended. The gleam in her eyes turned cold. “Then I guess my fingers might just slip, and that photo finds its way to the wrong places. She tilted her head slightly, the edge of her voice softening. “But hey, it’s your choice.”

The quiet that followed was heavy, the dim light casting harsh shadows that stretched across the room like prison bars. Your chest tightened, each breath shallow as the gravity of her ultimatum pulled you deeper into an inescapable spiral.

“Fine. Just... let’s get this over with,” you said, your voice hollow as the words left your mouth. Jiheon’s smile grew, though it was tinged with something bittersweet, her eyes flickering with fleeting uncertainty before hardening into resolve.

“Great! You won’t regret it, I promise,” she replied, her voice silkier now, wrapping around you like a lie.

You couldn't shake the feeling of disgust and anger that bubbled within you. You couldn't believe that you had been manipulated in such a way, that you had allowed yourself to be coerced into something that you knew was wrong.

Jiheon finally took the matter into her own hands. She decided that it was time to get back what was rightfully hers.

You and your ex found yourselves in a dance of passion that was fraught with tension, each movement calculated and deliberate. As you undressed one another, the fabric that fell away seemed to peel back layers of your shared history, revealing a complex tapestry of emotions.

With a sudden burst of energy, Jiheon leapt onto the bed, her vibrance illuminating the otherwise somber space. Her eyes, alight with a mischievous hunger, locked onto yours, and your heart responded with a rapid staccato that matched the intensity of her gaze. It was a shift in dynamics that was both exhilarating and alarming.

"I want you to make me cum," she asserts, her voice a blend of command and seduction that sends shivers down your spine. The weight of her demand hangs heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the power she holds. "If you don't, the photo gets leaked." The threat is clear, and the stakes are high. It’s a game of pleasure and power, and you are unwittingly cast as a key player.

Jiheon's need for sexual fulfillment was palpable, a hunger that had been growing during your time apart. She was determined to reclaim the intimacy and release that she felt had been unjustly withheld. In her eyes, you possessed the skills necessary to satisfy her, and she was resolved to extract every ounce of pleasure she felt she deserved.

Caught in this web of desire and coercion, you face a dilemma that twists your stomach with apprehension. Your career, your reputation, everything you have worked for, hinges on your performance in this delicate situation. With a fortifying breath, you harden your resolve and prepare to meet the challenge head-on.

Your approach is steady, a predator stalking its prey with a singular focus. Jiheon lies before you, her finger crooking in a silent command for you to advance. Her legs part, an invitation—or is it a trap?—that you cannot ignore. You climb onto the bed, positioning yourself at the apex of her desire.

With a grip born of determination and a hint of aggression, you lifted her legs, draping them over your shoulders. Her gasp was a fleeting concern, quickly overshadowed by the task at hand. Your sole objective was to deliver the ecstasy Jiheon so fervently demanded.

You commenced with a series of slaps, your length striking against her most sensitive flesh, eliciting visceral and raw reactions. Then, with a thrust fueled by gravity and desperation, you plunged into her depths. Her body's undulations were unmistakable signs of pleasure, confirming that you were indeed striking the right chords within her.

Each stroke is met with increasing wetness, her arousal a slick testament to the intensity of your union. You drive deeper, using your natural lubrication to facilitate a rhythm that is both forceful and fluid. Your bodies move in, a dance as old as time, yet under these circumstances, it feels like uncharted territory.

Sweat began to drip as you continued to thrust with speed. The heat radiating from the former couple was intoxicating. Your body moved in perfect rhythm with hers. They would meet each other halfway just like it did during your time together. She moaned and writhed beneath you, her body tensing up as she got closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, kiss me," Jiheon demanded, her tone leaving little to no room for argument. With no choice, you leaned down and gave her a kiss, a kiss full of regret and hesitance. But Jiheon wasn't having it. She forced her way into your mouth and twirled her tongue around yours, asserting her dominance in this intimate moment.

Finally, just as she asked for, she couldn't take it any longer. She cried out in pleasure as she reached her climax, "YES, FUCK ME HARDER, HARDER" her body shaking and shuddering. You could feel every single one of her muscles clenching and contracting around your cock as you kept pounding out of frustration. But you knew from the way she quivered and screamed that you had done enough to save your career.

As she tried to come down from her high, Jiheon found herself becoming more and more aroused again, as her ex was relentless with his movement. The touch was confident and skilled, and she felt herself getting closer and closer to another release, and she could feel you too as your cock would twitch and pulse inside her.

Jiheon’s eyes sparkled with mischief, she had been anticipating this moment. She could see the tension building in your body, and she knew that you were on the brink of release. She planned her next move, determined to make this encounter one that you would never forget.

In a swift and calculated motion, Jiheon locked her legs around your waist in a vice-like grip, effectively trapping you in place. She could feel the surprise and confusion radiating coming from her hex, but she didn't give you a chance to react. With a sultry smile curling at the corners of her lips, she uttered her threat with a seductive purr.

"If you so much as think about pulling out now, I'll make good on my promise to leak that photo of you to the entire world," her voice dripping with confidence and determination.

You stared at her in disbelief, mind racing as you tried to come up with a way to escape. But Jiheon was prepared for this. She tightened her legs around your waist pulling you closer and making it clear that she was not going to let go.

"I mean it," her voice stern and unyielding. "You'd better finish what you started, or else I'll have no choice but to make good on my threat."

The gravity of her words hung heavy in the air. Jiheon's tone was firm, unyielding, and laced with a hint of warning that made it abundantly clear that she was dead serious about following through on her threat.

"You need to give me everything you've got," she continued, her voice taking on a softer, more sensual tone. "I want every single pump of your cum filling me up completely. Only then will I be satisfied."

Her demands were both bold and brazen, an assertion of her own desires and a challenge to meet her needs. Jiheon's words, coupled with the feeling of her legs still wrapped tightly around you, left little room for doubt - she intended to see this through to the end, and she expected you to do the same.

Your heart raced as you felt trapped and powerless in Jiheon's grasp. You knew she was not bluffing about the situation, but also knew she was capable of causing a scene and ruining your reputation. With no other choice, you accepted you fate and continued your assault.

Jiheon's smile grew wider as she felt you surrender. She wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you closer, relishing in the control she had.

"Jiheon… Please." The phrase was so simple, just two words, but the desperation in your voice made it hard to tell if you were pleading for mercy or on the verge of surrendering.

Nearing your climax, you attempted a hasty and sneaky quick pull-out maneuver, hoping to avoid the finality of the act. But Jiheon's strong and toned dancer's legs, honed through years of training and performance, refused to let him escape. She kept your hips firmly and deeply inside her, ensuring that you spilled every last drop.

Jiheon, nearing her release as well, used her legs to help you pump inside her.

"Ugh, Jiheon, don’t," you groaned, running your fingers through your hair as you felt the familiar sensation building inside of you "Shit, I can't hold it in any longer." Your tone was a mixture of anger and defeat, body becoming weak and you shuddered as you reached you climax.

"No!" Your voice cracked in desperation, your body trembling as you tried to hold back, but Jiheon’s grip was relentless. "Yes!" she moaned, her voice full of satisfaction, pumping into you harder, forcing your body deeper as your resolve shattered. Your hips bucked involuntarily, cock twitching as you spilled inside her, pulse after pulse, completely filling her up. Your pleas were drowned out by her triumphant cries, their bodies locked together as the heat of his release poured into her, unstoppable despite his struggle.

Jiheon’s smile, once warm and inviting, twisted into a smug, satisfied smirk. She had won, achieving exactly what she wanted. You were weak, utterly spent and defeated, your body betraying you as she basked in the triumph of your surrender, her victory undeniable in the heat of your aftermath.

Exhausted from the exertion and overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience, you collapsed against Jiheon, your body going limp as you surrendered completely. Every muscle felt drained, leaving you helpless and vulnerable in her embrace. Jiheon’s fingers wove through your damp hair, but her touch wasn’t comforting—it was possessive, a reminder that you were now hers. She leaned closer, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, her voice dripping with satisfaction and control.

"Good boy," she murmured, the words laced with a dark promise. It wasn’t just praise; it was a claim, a subtle warning that you were under her dominance now, and there would be no escape.

Jiheon's arms encircle you with an intensity that feels like a claim, a branding of ownership that sends shivers down your spine. Her heartbeat, a steady rhythm against your own, seems to mock the chaos that is unfolding within you. This is not the tender embrace you had imagined in your dreams; it is the firm grasp of someone who has orchestrated this scenario to perfection.

Jiheon's voice broke the silence, her words slicing through your confusion with surgical precision. "We're dating now," she stated, her tone deceptively casual, yet it carried the weight of an irrevocable decree. There was no hint of doubt in her declaration, no invitation for debate. Your heart, already pounding from the shock of the situation, stuttered at her announcement. Dating? The word echoed in your head, a concept that you had never consented to, a path you had never agreed to walk with her.

Panic flutters in your chest, its wings beating frantically against the cage of Jiheon’s possessiveness. You had never anticipated that your ex, with her playful banter and shared secrets, could morph into something so controlling, so suffocating. Before you could gather your thoughts to protest, Jiheon’s embrace tightens, a silent message that resistance is futile. Her body presses against yours, not with the gentle warmth of a lover, but with the unyielding force of a conqueror.

You lay there, trapped in the ironclad embrace of someone you no longer recognized. Jiheon’s triumphant smile, etched with victory, watched the realization dawn on your face. There was no escape, no chance to rewind and undo the twisted knot that your relationship had become. Her eyes, once windows to a kindred spirit, now held a glint of domination that chilled you to the core.

Jiheon shifted slightly, still catching her breath, and you barely registered the subtle movement as she reached over to the nightstand. You felt her stir, saw the glint of her phone as she grabbed it, but it wasn’t until she gave you a mischievous grin that your heart lurched in your chest. Without hesitation, Jiheon spread her legs, revealing the undeniable evidence of your intimacy still glistening between her thighs. Your pulse quickened as she angled the phone, snapping a selfie that captured both of you, making it appear as though you were the one who had taken the photo.

To add to the cruelty, Jiheon crafted a look of mock terror on her face, making it seem as though you had forced her into the act. Her expression was so convincing that it sent a wave of dread crashing over you. Your stomach twisted as you watched her approve the photo, her smirk growing darker by the second.

A surge of panic hit you, and you lunged forward, trying to grab the phone from her hand. "Hey, give that back!" you demanded, your voice trembling with fear.

But Jiheon easily pulled the phone out of reach, a low, sinister laugh escaping her lips. "Oh no, baby," she purred, her eyes glinting with dangerous amusement. "I’m keeping this. You know… as insurance."

Your heart pounded in your chest. "Insurance? What do you mean?" you asked, dread sinking deeper into your bones.

Jiheon sat up slightly, her gaze hardening as she stared directly into your eyes. "If you ever, and I mean ever, break up or even just think about leaving me," she said slowly, her voice cold and deliberate, "I’ll leak this photo." She said with a smug tone, "I’ll release a statement about how you forced yourself on me, how you got me drunk and manipulated me. I’ll make sure you will never have a job again. You might even end up in jail." She tilted her head, her smile growing more twisted.

Your blood ran cold as her words settled in. Your mind raced, but there was nothing you could do. "You… you can’t be serious," you stammered, fear choking your voice. "You wouldn’t really—"

"Try me," Jiheon interrupted, her tone now deadly serious. Her gaze never wavered, her smile fading into something darker, more threatening. "I’m not afraid to ruin you; you’re mine to ruin." Then, just as quickly, her expression softened, her voice taking on a sickly sweet tone as she tilted her head, mimicking a look of innocence. "But we don’t have to worry about that, right, baby?"

Her innocent eyes contrasted with the threat she had just laid out, and you felt trapped, suffocated by the power she held over you. You swallowed hard, knowing you had no choice. "No…" you whispered, defeated. "No, we don’t."

"Good," Jiheon cooed, setting her phone back down on the nightstand with a satisfied smile. She nestled herself against you, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist. The weight of her body against yours didn’t feel comforting—it felt like a cage. "I’m glad we understand each other. Now, cuddle me."

Your chest tightened, the suffocating realization settling in. She had complete control, and there was nothing you could do to stop her. Reluctantly, you wrapped your arms around her, feeling the cold grip of your new reality sinking in. Jiheon’s contented hum filled the room, her satisfaction palpable.

Her voice was suddenly sweet and light, almost dreamy, as she uttered the words, "I love you." The sentiment was delivered with a softness and affection that could disarm even the most guarded heart, reminiscent of a confession from a school girl completely in love. Her eyes sparkled with an innocence that was both endearing and convincing. The grin that adorned her face was the epitome of purity, creating an illusion of a genuine moment of affection that seemed to bridge two souls in perfect harmony.

But as the recipient of this sudden outpouring of emotion, you found yourself momentarily paralyzed, unable to respond right away. The silence that followed was deafening, and in that brief interlude, the atmosphere shifted. The sweet, lovestruck girl before you vanished, replaced by someone whose intentions were far more malevolent.

In an abrupt and terrifying transformation, Jiheon's smile disappeared, and her eyes, once filled with warmth, now glinted with a sinister edge. With a swift and unexpected move, she used one hand to grab your cheeks, her thumb pressing firmly against one side of your face while her fingers dug into your skin on the other. She pulled your face toward hers, the grip both demanding and unyielding. "Say it," she hissed, her voice no longer soft but sharp and commanding. The sudden change in her demeanor left you bewildered, your mind racing to catch up with the rapidly deteriorating situation.

"Say what?" you managed to ask, your voice betraying the fear that was beginning to take hold. Her response was chilling, her fingers tightening around your waist, nails piercing your skin ever so slightly. "Say that you love me," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Her warm, affectionate facade had crumbled, revealing a person you barely recognized—someone who was willing to go to terrifying lengths to make you submit. A shiver of fear shot through you, mingling with disbelief, yet your mind struggled to process this abrupt shift. You tried to gather your words, stammering as you attempted to defuse the tension, to understand this dangerous new dynamic without provoking her further. But the silence that stretched between you seemed to amplify her anticipation, her eyes never wavering from yours, watching every twitch, every flicker of hesitation.

Then, with a swift and brutal decisiveness, Jiheon’s expression hardened. Her features contorted with impatience and a dark, twisted determination that sent another wave of panic surging through you. Before you could react, her other hand shot down and clamped around you, gripping your flaccid sensitive member with a force that made you gasp in pain, your body reflexively tensing under the unexpected pressure. The pain was sharp, searing, and impossible to ignore, cutting through your paralysis and grounding you in the raw, terrifying reality of the situation.

"Say it!" she hissed, her voice laced with venom, a brutal command that left no room for resistance. Her eyes bore into yours, ablaze with a fervent intensity that was both horrifying and unrecognizable—a look of possession, of absolute control, that left you feeling exposed and powerless. This wasn’t the Jiheon you knew; this was someone consumed by a desperate, obsessive need, someone who would not tolerate defiance.

Her grip tightened further, making you wince as a jolt of agony shot through you, stealing your breath. You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, strangled by fear and confusion. Her nails dug into your skin, the slight prickling sensation a reminder that her affection had twisted into something far darker, far more dangerous than you’d ever anticipated.

"Say it," she repeated, her voice lowering to a near-growl, each syllable carrying an unspoken threat. The intensity in her gaze held you captive, her fingers pressing with a deliberate cruelty that sent a tremor through your body. She was relentless, her patience long spent, and the chilling certainty hit you—she wasn’t going to stop until you gave her exactly what she wanted.

"I... I love you," you stammered, the words dragged from you by fear and desperation. The moment they left your lips, her demeanor shifted again. Her grip released, and she softened, a satisfied smile curling at the edges of her mouth. She brushed her hand gently over your cheek as if in some twisted form of affection, her fingers trailing down your skin in a mockingly gentle touch.

"There we go," she murmured, her voice slipping back into that feigned tenderness. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?" She nestled closer, fitting her body seamlessly against yours as though nothing had happened. Her arms slid around you, draping over you in a way that felt suffocating rather than comforting. She hummed softly, her head resting on your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck.

You lay there, rigid, as the reality of your situation settled in. Her embrace, though gentle, felt like a cage tightening around you, each moment drawing you further into her control. Her fingers started to trace slow, lazy circles on your arm, an almost tender gesture that only added to the disquiet churning within you. Every brush of her fingers felt like a reminder that you were trapped, ensnared in her twisted idea of love.

Jiheon lifted her head and gazed at you with wide, adoring eyes, her expression teetering on the edge of mania, her gaze brimming with an unsettling, almost feverish devotion. Her arms tightened around you, the grip bruising as if she were afraid you'd slip through her fingers if she didn’t hold on tight enough. Without warning, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that was fierce and smothering, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs. Her mouth moved over yours with a hunger that bordered on obsession, each kiss deeper, more desperate, as though she needed to consume you entirely to feel complete.

When she finally pulled away, her lips didn’t stop—they traveled over your cheek, planting fervent kisses that turned into nips, her teeth grazing your skin in playful bites that grew sharper, more possessive with each one. Her mouth found your neck, where her kisses became relentless, almost frantic, punctuated by gentle, teasing bites that left faint stings in their wake. Each kiss, each bite felt like a claim, a brand, marking you as her own with every touch.

Between her fervent kisses, her breath brushed hot against your skin as she murmured in a soft, almost reverent tone, “You’re mine now.” Her voice dripped with a disturbing sweetness, a tenderness warped by the intensity of her obsession. “We belong together… forever.” Her lips found the curve of your shoulder, where she sank her teeth in, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to send a jolt of sensation through you, a reminder of her dominance. Her arms locked around you, pulling you impossibly closer, her embrace as unyielding as steel.

“No one else understands,” she whispered, her tone almost soothing, though her grip was anything but gentle. Her fingers traced up your spine, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched, her nails digging in just enough to leave faint imprints on your skin. “No one else could love you like I do,” she cooed, her voice lilting with an affection that sounded both sweet and sinister. “We’re perfect together, you know that, don’t you?”

She tilted her head, looking at you with that same unrelenting gaze, her fingers running through your hair, tugging gently before pressing another kiss to your jaw, her teeth grazing your skin in another possessive bite. Each touch, each whispered word held an unbreakable claim, binding you to her in a love that had long since spiraled into obsession.

You didn’t respond, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was lost in her own world, one where your silence was simply acceptance, where her love—twisted and possessive as it was—was something you reciprocated. Her fingers tangled in your hair, stroking and twirling, while her lips pressed over your skin again and again, each kiss carrying a desperation that unnerved you.

To her, this was the culmination of a perfect romance, the moment she’d always dreamed of. Her eyes glistened with a feverish joy as she whispered, "You and me… forever." She buried her face in the crook of your neck, her arms squeezing tighter, her body practically molding against yours. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, as though her happiness was so overwhelming that even air couldn’t fully reach her.

You lay there, stiff and helpless, your heart pounding as she continued her endless string of kisses and whispered confessions. She was clinging to you as if you were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality—yet it was clear her reality was a world built entirely on her delusions. She seemed blissfully unaware of your discomfort, every soft word, every fervent kiss drawing you deeper into her twisted world.

As her grip tightened, you knew with a chilling certainty that Jiheon wouldn’t let you go. In her mind, you were bound together, trapped forever in her obsessive love, with no hope of escape.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #reader insert #male reader #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #fromis 9 #fromis 9 smut #baek jiheon #jiheon #jiheon smut #baek jiheon smut #fromis 9 jiheon

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cvnntagious · 1 month ago

Text

:: fratboy!chris hates to see rich!reader leave, but he loves to watch her go

chris was used to the usual attitude you threw around, choosing to deal with it as he saw fit whenever you'd get too mouthy with him or something. tonight, though, you were being particularly bratty— huffing and puffing for what he'd deemed no reason as you sat with your back pressed against him and your butt seated on his left leg, one of his hands curled snugly on your hip.

he chose to ignore the pout on your face, wanting you to be upfront with him about your problem. his attention stayed on the other frat brothers that lounged around on the couches of the house midday, all of them talking and laughing about stupid stuff as his fingers mindlessly drew shapes on your waist. it wasn't long before one of them began rolling up, planning to have a quick sesh while they were all free.

meanwhile, you were left to watch in annoyance until you spoke up about chris' ignorance. you weren't even sure why you showed up when he'd asked you to come over, you were already annoyed. all he wanted to do was get high. it's no wonder your dad had told you to stay away from the hockey boys when you enrolled in this college; they were all a bunch of lowlife losers.

as soon as chris leaned over the coffee table to grab the joint his friend had just rolled, holding you steady as he did so, you cleared your throat, brows raised in a snobbish manner. "do you mind?" you asked, tone laced with attitude as you turned your head to look him up and down. your entitlement was seeping through, and you knew it. you weren't used to not getting what you want.

his eyes flicked to meet yours immediately, head snapping in your direction as everyone went silent. chris let out a large breath as he leaned back into his seat, the rolled drug secured between his index and thumb. "y'alright?" he asked, playing oblivious to your clear annoyance with whatever he'd done to piss you off.

you immediately shook your head, glossy lips pursing. "i guess," you lied, despite the obvious indication you weren't 'alright', "but do you really think you need another one?" your head nodded towards his hand practically waving in front of your face, thinking back to when he'd been smoking when he called you earlier.

chris squinted his eyes at you, head sinking further back into the couch as he quickly realized why you were so upset. it was rare that he'd call you over when he was sober, but whenever he did, he usually ended up getting high later on anyway. it was like an endless cycle, and he hadn't even noticed the bitter taste you were getting in your mouth because of it.

"got nothing t'do with you, does it?" he then asked, knowing it'd only serve to get further on your nerves— but it was true. was he not allowed to say how he felt about the issue too?

with a smack of your lips, you scoffed at his response. 'unbelievable' was all you could think, and it was what you thought almost any time he'd say something so stupid. you didn't hesitate to stand from his lap, straightening out your outfit and picking up your dior purse once you'd done so. chris' expression quickly turned solemn, watching you angrily fumble to grab your things.

still, he remained seated, simply watching for a moment. he couldn't be bothered to deal with another one of your fits right now. it was only when he realized how dead serious you were that he spoke up: "c'mon, princess, don't be like that," he protested, free hand reaching out to tug at your wrist.

you scoffed again, flicking your wrist to rid yourself of his hand. that stupid fucking name - he only used it when he wanted to convince you of something. "no, m'good chris. you go ahead and have fun doing..." you looked around, handing over a judging look to each of the men seated around chris, "what you usually do."

he clicked his tongue, bringing the joint up to his lips when you began walking away. his eyes remained on you. the way your ass swayed in that leopard print skirt, a mixture of your heels and jewelry clanking and getting quieter the farther away you got from him.

finally, he heard the front door slam and he leaned his head back to exhale the smoke. "hey man, y'gonna go after her?" one of his peers finally asked, tension all throughout the group of people.

"nah, she'll come back. i'ma let her have this one."

w/c : 779

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catssluvr · 2 months ago

Note

it would be sososo wonderful if you wrote a cute little blurb abt Spencer and fem!BAU!reader both coming into work with little doodles all over their arms and the team notices or something <3 (yes this is the same anon that sent the headcanon lol)

hii! i loved your headcanon and am so glad you requested this 💌

𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔, spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader

you relationship with spencer is revealed when you both show up to work with doodles on your arms <3

warnings: none <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Spencer reaches for the mug full of hot coffee, taking a generous sip. His button up feels almost immediately too hot, body warming up due to the hot beverage. He rolls up his sleeves without a second thought, arms covered in little doodles on full display to anyone in the bullpen who decides to look at them.

"Hey, pretty boy. Did you see- are those hearts?" Derek approaches his desk with a teasing smile already making it's way to his lips. Spencer scrambles to cover his arms up, clumsy pulling his sleeves down.

"Did i see what?" He feigns innocence, crossing his arms over his chest as he's way too nervous to actually button up the sleeves. There's no way he's going to out the relationship he's been hiding for a good few months because of some doodles.

"Oh no, you're not running away from this. Why have you got cute drawings all over your arms, uh?" He teases even further, trying to take a peek at the skin under Spencer's button up.

Your gaze immediately shoots up to them once you realize what Derek is referring to, quickly faking a normal expression once you realize your eyes have widened. You pretend to be looking at the files in your table, waiting for the answer. Your table is not far from his so you really have to keep it cool.

"I uh- i was bored and drew them." Spencer says the first excuse that comes to mind and realizes rather quickly how bad it sounds. His neck turns red and it soon spreads to his cheeks and ears too.

"You want me to believe you were bored and decided to draw hearts and butterflies on your arms? Sure, Reid." He chuckles, making sure to give him a hard time.

"Aw, does my sweet boy genius have a girlfriend?" Penelope snoops in, a less teasing and more bright smile on her lips.

"It sounds like he does. Unless he's suddenly ambidextrous and is able to draw perfect hearts on both of his arms." Emily comments, just as interested to make Spencer flustered as Derek.

"I- What if i am?!" Spencer's voice comes out a tad bit squeakier than intended, facade crumbling very easily. He looks at you almost desperately, trying to find a way out of this interrogation without having to reveal your relationship.

"Come on guys, leave the poor boy alone." Rossi saves him before you can, but he seems just as curious as the rest of them. Raised eyebrows and looking directly at him.

"Do you know anything about this, gorgeous?" Derek turns his gaze to you. Spencer gulps nervously, trying to act as normal as possible now that you're also about to be involved.

"Me? Why would i know?" You question a bit too defensively. Lying isn't exactly your forte and now that everyone is looking at you, it feels even harder.

"Wait- do i sense jealously?" It now feels like you're the next chosen victim to their interrogation. You might have aimed for careless but it definitely came off as defensive and bothered.

"You really don't." You roll your eyes as you answer, noticing the way Spencer gives you an apologetical look. You smile for long enough so that he notices but quick enough so no on else sees it.

"I think we do." Rossi agrees with Derek.

You sigh exasperatedly, hand coming to rub your forehead. What you don't notice is the way your shirt rids down, exposing your also covered arm.

"Oh my god- she has them too!" Penelope gasps, not holding back the surprise.

You wonder how they hadn't figured out you and Spencer are dating before. You both aren't exactly great liars and it was just a matter of time until someone caught one of your stollen kisses on the workplace.

"Oops?" You mutter out, cheeks painfully hot as you give up on trying to hide it. There's no way they would believe any kind of excuse now.

"Can't say i'm surprised." Emily is the first to say anything, leaving to go back to her desk as if nothing had happened.

"I'm so happy for you guys." Penelope ruffles Spencer's hair with a smile that's definitely making her cheeks hurt, while Derek resumes to shaking his head with a chuckle.

Spencer gives you a lopsided smile and you quickly realize he's trying to know if you're okay with all of it. You nod with a smile of your own, fingers tracing the doodles on your arm.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

love you,

cat 🤍

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #fluff #spencer reid x you

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moon1833 · 3 months ago

Text

SEVEN METER -INUMAKI TOGE

“Inumaki Toge had given up on his dream of being able to verbally confess to the person he liked years ago.”

By the time Inumaki turned ten, he fully accepted the fact that he would live his life without anyone fully understanding what he wanted to say.

It was a bit lonely at first, to see everyone around him besides his family talk freely, but he had no other life to compare it to.

By the time he was seventeen, the dream had fell into the furthest corner in the back of his mind, hardly ever remembering it being a thought until you, the new second year student, revealed your technique to him during training.

“Freeze.” His command sounded different off his tongue, but he didn’t notice it right away.

When you kicked your legs out anyway, forcing him off balance and throwing him to the ground, then he realized something was off.

Inumaki’s cheek was in the grass, his arm pinned to his back as your legs stopped him from twisting. From the corner of his eye, he stared at you in confusion, and a bit of admiration.

“It’s my cursed technique.” You couldn’t help the grin on your face. “It stops all techniques in a seven meter radius.”

You step off of him, giving him your hand to help him get up. He takes it, his lips parted slightly in shock.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You help dust some dirt off his shoulder. “You could’ve spoken to me without having to limit your vocabulary when you first met me yesterday, but I wanted to surprise you.”

You wait as he takes the information in, his mind trailing with possibilities, trying to figure out what his first real words would be to you.

“It’s… okay.” He settles on, feeling as though he was attempting another language.

“Here, let’s go again.” You smile. “It’ll be fair this time.”

From that point on, Inumaki couldn’t deny he felt a slight attachment to you. After all, he could talk freely to you and not worry about hurting you.

It was an adjustment, to be sure. He wasn’t used to the sound of his own voice using so many words at a time, and that his throat didn’t hurt when he did.

At the same time, you found yourself at his side as well. He smiled more when you were in the room, and you believed it was because he had someone he could now actually talk to.

Everyone else, however, read into it a different way.

Gojo was convinced you two were both in love with each other, constantly setting you up together in sparring work and putting you on missions together. Maki, Panda, and even Yuuta teased him relentlessly, desperately trying to get the boy to admit he had a crush on you.

Sure, you might’ve been powerful, hard working, and one of the prettiest people Inumaki had ever had the pleasure of seeing, but that didn’t mean he had a crush on you.

Besides, even if Inumaki did, personal feelings was the last thing you wanted to get mixed up in. You had made that crystal clear on your very first day, practically skipping onto Jujitsu High, brimming with determination that rivaled Maki.

Your cursed technique was incredibly useful, but it was still messy. You were hoping to learn to control it better, as well as improve your combat skills. After all, you had people to save, and things like romance didn’t fare well with jujitsu sorcerers.

Even you couldn’t deny, though, there was definitely something going on between you and Inumaki.

You were always training, eating, or even sleeping together. In class, your seats were always together, and he’d whisper commentary about Gojo-Sensei’s weird teaching that would have you covering your mouth to conceal your laughter.

By the time you both had turned eighteen, your classmates had truly had enough.

“Can you two just kiss already?” Maki’s face twisted as she complained, eyeing her friends were practically on top of each other on the couch in the common room.

You removed your legs from Toge’s lap, immediately missing how he drew circles on your knees.

“Honestly, I think you two actually making out in front of us instead of the constant heart eyes would be less intimate.” Megumi suddenly joins the conversation, Itadori nodding in agreement beside him.

Your eyes slightly widen in surprise, and you don’t have to look at Toge to know he’s flushed red.

“Bonito flakes.” He pouts, crossing his arms and shrinking into his hoodie.

“Oh, come on.” Nobara groans, throwing her head against her armchair. “This is borderline annoying.”

“I’m loosing money, you know.” Maki’s grinning a bit now. “We should lock them in a closet or something.”

“No, no.” You say quickly. “You people are insane.”

“And you’re boring.” Nobara whines.

Itadori whispers something to Megumi, and he looks at him quizzically. Nobara must have overheard it, because she’s howling with laughter.

“What?” Maki pries.

“Yuuji thought they were already together.” She says in between gasps.

Toge fully hides his face in his hands, but you can see bits of reddened skin between his fingers.

Luckily, Panda comes back with a few snacks a few minutes later, and the topic changes. The group decides to watch a movie, and for the first time, you try your best to not fall asleep on Toge’s shoulder.

Still, it’s past midnight when the movies credits begin to roll, and your head feels heavy. Your blinks are longer, and you rest your face against the head of the loveseat.

Silently, Toge watches you carefully. You’re fighting (and failing) to stay awake, and your face is scrunched slightly.

The two of you are the only people still awake, Maki was using Panda as a pillow, and the three underclassmen were sleeping on top of each other.

Toge pokes your face, and you snap up. There’s a coy smile on his lips, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad at him.

“What?” You whisper.

He shrugs, a bit worried about speaking with so many people in the room.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotten good at it.” You reassure. You had mastered it last month, being able to target one individual and force them to not have any cursed techniques. Only downside was using it for an extended time would make you pass out.

He nods a bit shyly before swallowing. “That movie was ass.”

You laugh sharply, nodding in agreement. “I’m not sure why we let Itadori pick anymore.”

At his name, the boy in question let out a guttural snore, and you and Toge couldn’t contain your giggles.

“C’mon.” You push him up. “We’re going to wake them up.”

Still holding back your laughter, the two of you ran hand in hand down the hallway and up the stairs.

From the other side of the stairs, you could hear footsteps trotting closer to you. Before you heard his footsteps, you felt his cursed energy. Quickly, you enabled your own technique to hide your and Toge’s trails, holding onto his shoulder to stop his movements.

Realistically, Gojo probably wouldn’t give two shits that you were out past curfew, but on the off chance that he did, you didn’t want to serve detention with him again.

The last time, he had left you in the classroom overnight because he had locked the door and forgot you were there. You had to climb out of the window to get out.

You pulled Toge under the stairwell, unintentionally gripping onto him with both hands. His arms were comfortably wrapped around your waist, and he was grinning ear to ear.

Gojo started to whistle incredibly off key as he walked, and the you made the mistake of making eye contact with Toge as he did.

“Shh!” You covered his mouth with your hand, but you were still laughing. In response, he covers your mouth as well, and you still don’t realize you’re practically nose to nose.

The both of you are still giddy, shushing laughs that are a bit too loud for you to not get caught. You can’t pull away from his eyes, and your mouth parts slightly.

Before you can think about it, you press your lips to his, ceasing the rare opportunity of the boys chin above his jacket.

He giggles into the kiss, holding your face in his hands. You grin, and your teeth graze his lip. He gasps, and your hands grip onto his shirt.

Toge presses harder into you, and you stagger back into the wall. You’re suddenly familiar with how he tastes, and it’s an addiction you cannot want to be used to.

Inumaki Toge had given up on his dream of being able to verbally confess to the person he liked years ago. But, there you were, staring up at him with pretty eyes and a smile that knocked the wind out of him, and the words ‘I love you’ were so so simple to say.

#inumaki drabbles #inumaki texts #inumaki smau #inumaki fluff #inumaki x y/n #inumaki x you #jujutsu kaisen inumaki #inumaki x reader #jjk inumaki #inumaki toge #toge inumaki #toge smau #toge smut #inumaki toge smut #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff

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0cta9on · 7 months ago

Note

Sana and Miyeon fucking their boyfriend and they fight over him to make him choose her favorite girlfriend (full story please)

A Stroke of Luck

length: +3k words

Twice Sana x (G)-Idle Miyeon x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long!! First threesome piece, so I hope it's alright)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Sometimes you wonder just how you got so lucky. Since the day you were born, you were able to glide through life, getting anything you could ever want with a simple wave of your hand or a nod of your head. Perhaps your life of luxury can be attributed to your incredibly wealthy parents spoiling you the second you drew your first breath, or maybe your past life sacrificed themselves to save the universe and the higher power up there is finally giving you your recompense. Regardless, you revel in the fact that you have everything - and everyone - right at the tip of your fingers.

Frankly, you have a vague memory of how you met them - your memory always gets hazy when alcohol is involved. You were never too keen on clubbing, viewing it as a waste of money for a night you’ll never be able to remember, but it was a small price to pay to appease some potential business partners that your parents would eventually bleed dry before tossing to the curb. While trying to keep up appearances, the crowd parted at just the right moment, allowing you to gaze upon these goddesses for the first time, two Mona Lisas that made even the most beautiful supermodel comparable to a two-year-old’s crayon drawing. This is when your memory gets a bit blurry. A quick exchange of sultry alcohol-infused words, a brief yet lingering touch on the arm, and suddenly you had them both face down in some expensive hotel room, pounding away to high heaven. After a night of blissful sex, you would wake up alone with a note on the nightstand and one new message on your phone from an unknown number. Upon reading the note, only then did you realize just how truly lucky you are.

That night was a year ago. In fact, today marks the exact anniversary of that night - your first anniversary with your girlfriends. You have a whole schedule planned for later, which includes an expensive dinner for the three of you, a private fireworks show, and a steamy ending between the sheets as the cherry on top. As bizarre and outlandish as your situation is, you genuinely do love them and want to spoil them with a good time. Unfortunately (or rather, fortunately), one of them isn’t content with waiting around until dinner rolls by.

The sight of the cute Japanese woman crawling towards you in nothing but one of your white button-up shirts is a sight you would gladly get surgically implanted into your retinas. She tries to glare at you menacingly, but her round eyes and her bread-like cheeks only serve to make her look adorable.

“Sana, what are you doing?” You ask, amused.

“I’m a tiger stalking their prey. Rawr~” she teases, stifling a giggle. Any attempts at trying to watch the game on the TV prove futile once Sana starts rubbing your thighs, her hands tantalizingly close to your crotch.

“Miyeon is gonna be pissed if she finds out we’re fucking without her, you know?” You say as you run your hands lovingly through her silky hair.

“If she finds out.” Sana punctuates her statement with a kiss on your bulge. “Just don’t let her find out,” she giggles. Before you can object, her hands are already unzipping your pants and taking out your erect cock. Sana gazes at it affectionately, licking her lips as she strokes you slowly. Compared to Miyeon, she is much more vocal about her desires, begging and pouting until you finally give in to her demands (Not that you would ever say no to that face). Whether it’s a new handbag or your cock inside of her, Sana gets what she wants one way or another.

“You naughty girl,” you tease, caressing her cheek. “You really can’t wait until Miyeon gets home?”

“Mm-mm,” she mutters, shaking her head before taking your entire length into her mouth. The overwhelming sensation of her tongue lapping up your precum causes an involuntary groan to escape your throat. An entire year of this and not once does it ever get old. Life is fucking great, isn’t it?

Sana’s doe eyes scan your reaction as she worships your member, always so attentive, ensuring that you’re enjoying the experience as much as she is. She watches the way you squirm when she sucks on your balls or the way your breath hitches in your throat whenever her teeth gently graze against your skin. To the unknowing eye, Sana can easily be seen as a materialistic brat, but you know better than anyone how much she reciprocates your affection. It’s most evident in how hard she tries to take all of you in at once, struggling to the point of tears as she forces your cock down her throat.

“Fuck, Sana,” you moan. “Save some of that energy for later tonight.”

She struggles to catch her breath after another attempt at deepthroating you. Precum and saliva coat her mouth and chin, dripping down to her chest that’s barely hidden behind your white button-up shirt.

“I just can’t help myself when I’m with you. That beast between your legs is just sooooo enticing.” Sana hops into your lap, pressing her full body weight into you. You feel her panting breath tickle your nose while you stare at the many charming features of her face. How lucky you are to have such a beautiful woman in your life.

“Why are you smiling?” she teases, the sweet sound of her laugh brushing against your ears.

“I love you, Sana,” you state firmly. Her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink right before she hides her embarrassed expression in the crook of your neck, giggling delightfully. You’re so infatuated by her cuteness that you almost forget that she’s naked and sitting on your lap. Almost.

One by one, you unbutton her shirt, slowly revealing that body you love so much. Her full, perky breasts sit above her toned stomach which flows and ebbs into her petite waist. You run your hands along her familiar curves, painting her chest with kisses. Your body aches for her and hers for yours, clawing and gripping and kissing every inch of your beings, trying to absorb one another just to get closer than humanly possible.

Sana cups your face, eyes steeled with lustful determination. “I need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard that Miyeon gets jealous. I want to be the only woman for you, even if it’s just for a little moment.”

Without another word, you stand up, carrying her by her ass and aligning your cock with her moist folds before staring deep into her eyes as you thrust yourself into her, watching her face morph into several shapes of desire as she adjusts to your size. Sana’s arms and legs wrap around your torso, desperately clinging onto you to try and take in every inch of your cock. You’re not sure how long she’s felt like this; you always considered her and Miyeon to be a package deal, never one without the other for too long. You love them both equally and always ensure that you never showed favorites. Maybe you slipped up recently, or maybe the two of them are fighting behind the scenes. Whatever it is, if Sana wants to feel like the only woman in your life, you’ll gladly grant her wish in a heartbeat.

“Sana… baby… I love you so much,” you pant into her ear.

“MMPH, yes! I love you too, baby! F-Fuck! You’re the only one that can satisfy me!” She mashes her lips into yours, forcing your tongues into a messy yet sensual dance. Her moans vibrate in your mouth, drowning out any kind of background noise other than the clapping of your hips against hers. Her sweet pussy takes you in so well, almost as if it was tailor-made just for you. However, your cock belongs to two women. One of those women happens to be unlocking the front door right at this moment.

“Hey guys, I’m bac- Hey!”

Much to Sana’s dismay, you momentarily pause your thrusts to glance at the source of the voice. The second love of your life, Miyeon, is standing right there with a large bouquet of flowers and an irritated pout on her lips.

“Hi princess,” you say to her, hoping to ease the tension. “What do you have there?”

“They’re from work,” she huffs, tossing the flowers onto the sofa before stomping towards you. “What are you doing?!”

You let out a sheepish laugh as you set Sana down to the ground, pulling out of her sweet embrace. Now two pairs of unhappy eyes are looking up at you. “W-well, you see, you know how Sana is-”

“How could you two have sex without me?!” Miyeon exclaims.

“Yah, don’t yell at him!” Sana interjects. “It’s not his fault he prefers my pussy over yours!”

“O-okay, I never said th-” You try to come in between them, but they both push you away with surprising synchronization.

“No, he doesn’t! You probably just threw yourself at him, you slut!”

Sana gasps. “Slut?! You’re just jealous that he likes me more than you!”

The two continue to bicker and argue, and you start to worry that things could get physical. Right as Sana lifts her hand, you step in between the two of them, shielding Miyeon from a potential slap.

“OKAY, let’s all calm down for a second, alright?” You gently grasp Sana’s wrist, putting it down by her side. “What is going on between you two? You guys are best friends, why are you fighting all of a sudden?”

The two fall silent, averting their teary eyes to the floor, standing there like bickering sisters. You never expected this kind of behavior from either of them, especially on the day of your anniversary.

“Look at me,” you command, lifting up both of their chins towards you. “I love the both of you and I don’t want to see you fighting. We’re going to stand here and talk until this all gets resolved, even if it takes all night.”

Seeing the serious look in your eyes, both of their expressions soften. Sana is the first to speak up.

“I see the way you treat Miyeon. Sometimes I feel like you like her more than me, and it makes me feel… jealous.”

Compared to Sana, Miyeon is on the quieter side, rarely demanding things from you or complaining about anything. In the beginning of your relationship, you assumed that she wasn’t into the idea of polygamy and only tagged along because of Sana. It took a while to understand her, but you eventually found out that Miyeon just doesn’t like asking for things and wants you to basically read her mind. Now, you can tell exactly what she’s thinking just from her body language, and Miyeon consequently became more affectionate towards you. Sana must have noticed the differences in the way you treat her and thought you were showing favoritism.

“Okay, yes, I treat Miyeon differently than I treat you, but that doesn’t mean I love her more than you, Sana,” you reassure her. “You girls have different personalities and both of you deserve a man that can love you the way you want to be loved. I’m sorry if it seems like I treat her better, but that’s really not the case, okay? Please don’t fight because I made a mistake.”

Sana and Miyeon look at each other with an apologetic expression before falling into a warm embrace.

“I’m sorry I fucked him without you,” Sana apologizes.

“I’m sorry I called you a slut.”

Sana pulls Miyeon into a deep and loving kiss. It starts out innocently enough, but eventually, the two begin moaning into each other’s mouths while their hands explore their bodies. You can’t help but stroke your cock at the sight of your two ladies making out in front of you. Miyeon notices your erection and whispers giddily into Sana’s ear, prompting a mischievous smile to grow on the Japanese woman’s lips.

“We’re so sorry about fighting, baby,” Sana says in a sultry tone.

“Yeah, we’ve been such naughty girls.” Miyeon looks at you with her siren eyes, drawing you in with a simple glance. “Maybe you should punish us, baby.”

Sana reaches out and grabs your rod, pulling you closer. “Yeah, punish us with your big, fat cock.”

With your heart pounding with excitement, you grab their wrists, pulling them towards the bedroom as the sounds of their giggles trail behind you. You throw them towards the bed, quickly freeing yourself from any clothing as they watch with anticipation. Miyeon bites her lip as she ogles your body, while Sana touches herself just thinking about all the things you’ll do to the both of them.

“Miyeon is a bit overdressed, don’t you think so, Sana?” You ask, smirking. Sana nods in agreement, pulling Miyeon into a heavy kiss while her hand snakes its way into her top. You get to work on Miyeon’s bottom half, kneeling in front of her and tugging at her skirt to reveal the damp spot on her panties. You pull Miyeon’s legs over your shoulder so her thighs sandwich your face and begin planting kisses all over her supple skin. Sana tosses Miyeon’s top and bra to the other side of the room before sucking on Miyeon’s perky tits. Her high-pitched princess moans fill the room, accompanied by the wet kissing sounds of you and Sana pleasuring her body.

“Ah, fuck! Yes, just like that!” Miyeon exclaims. You hungrily pull off her panties before diving into her heat, licking between her folds and flicking your tongue against her clit. Sana sits behind her, holding her spasming body while nibbling her ear.

“I bet you’re sooooo exhausted after work, aren’t you, princess?” Sana whispers into Miyeon’s ear. Miyeon nods amidst her whimpering, biting her lip at her girlfriend, begging for her to take her. Sana obliges, shoving her tongue into her mouth as you shove your tongue into Miyeon’s dripping pussy. It doesn’t take long for Miyeon to reach her first orgasm, squirting her nectar all over your face which you gladly lap up, not wasting a single drop. Her body shivers with pleasure, but you have only just begun.

Sana and Miyeon watch intently as you stand up and align your cock with Miyeon’s glistening heat. With a mischievous smirk, Sana moves aside, letting Miyeon lie on her back. Miyeon’s mouth forms an “O” as you insert your tip inside of her, and Sana seizes the chance by sitting on Miyeon’s face, grinding her hips into the Korean woman’s open mouth. Your bodies form a literal love triangle as Sana pulls your face towards her, catching your lips with hers as you thrust deeply into Miyeon. You imagined this to be the last thing you did on your anniversary night instead of the first thing, but you don’t mind doing things a bit out of order. As long as these two lovely ladies are happy, you’re happy.

“Isn’t Miyeon’s pussy so tight, baby?” Sana asks with a smirk on her face. You nod, becoming increasingly aroused by Sana’s dirty talk, quickening the pace of your thrusts. Miyeon’s muffled moans become significantly louder, causing Sana to cling onto your shoulders for support as she reaches her climax. Sana pulls your head into another kiss, moaning into her mouth as her body trembles from her orgasm. She eventually collapses to the side of the bed, allowing Miyeon to finally breathe.

The light reflects off of Sana’s nectar on Miyeon’s skin, giving her the appearance of a glimmering angel. You slow down the pace of your thrusts, bringing your face close to Miyeon’s ear.

“Mirror?” You ask simply. She nods excitedly, biting her lip with anticipation.

If there’s one thing you learned about Miyeon since dating her for the past year, it’s that she absolutely adores herself. If she suddenly turned quiet, it was because she was either staring at a mirror or taking selfies. Every time she sent you nudes, it was more so to show you just how beautiful is rather than solely for your benefit (Not that you minded, of course). On the nights the three of you felt particularly frisky and decided to film yourselves, Miyeon would always rewind her parts, going on about how sexy she looks when she’s about to cum or how pretty her own moans sound. You wouldn’t say she’s narcissistic; rather, she’s just confident in her looks, and she had every reason to be. Cho Miyeon is the perfect embodiment of a princess, and you love that about her.

You bend Miyeon over the vanity, making sure she has a good view of herself before you rail her from behind. She peers over her shoulder at you and winks, wiggling her ass playfully.

“What are you waiting for? Aren’t you gonna punish m- AH!”

You grip onto Miyeon’s slim waist and begin to pound her hot cunt with ease. The entire vanity shakes as she clings onto it for dear life, barely able to support herself as her legs become as stable as jelly. Despite the stage of disarray she’s in, Miyeon maintains eye contact with herself in the mirror, evidently turning her on more with how her pussy tightens around your cock.

“Cum for me, princess,” you whisper gruffly into her ear. “You look so pretty when you cum.”

“I do?” she asks, flashing her puppy dog eyes at you through the mirror. You nod, unable to speak a coherent word as the sensation begins to feel too much. Miyeon squeals with pleasure as her juices begin to leak down her legs and onto the floor. You hold her up in case her trembling legs give out on her as she rides out her orgasm.

“Good girl,” you reassure her, planting kisses all over her back. Once she calms down, you help her to the bed and lay her down gently next to Sana.

“That was so fucking hot, princess,” Sana says, giving Miyeon a small peck on the lips. Miyeon giggles, her eyes barely able to stay open. With Sana’s energy back and your cock still hard, she descends on you like a panther, pinning you to the bed.

“Miyeon’s tongue is nice, but I needdddd your fat fucking cock inside of me,” she smirks as she straddles your lap, guiding your tip inside of her pussy. Her eyes roll back inside of her head as she takes you little by little, before completely bottoming out inside of her. After a moment of adjusting, Sana begins to ride your cock, holding onto your chest for support. You squeeze and tug at her bouncing tits, eliciting cute little squeals from her. A still-tired Miyeon decides to join in the fun, pushing Sana down onto your cock with more force and teasing her clit.

“HOLY FUCK!” Sana squeals ecstatically.

“I bet you like being a little slut, huh?” Miyeon teases her. “You like being filled up by our boyfriend’s cock, don’t you?”

“FUCK! Yes, I love it so much!”

“You wanna be filled with his cum, right baby?” Miyeon smirks at you as she whispers into Sana’s ear. With how close you are, you have no choice but to follow along with her impromptu plan.

“Oh god, yes please fill me with your cum, baby!” Sana exclaims, eyeing you desperately. Miyeon’s hand trails up your chest as she leans in towards you.

“You heard her,” she says, slyly cupping your cheek. “Better give her what she wants.”

Without hesitation, you shoot your load straight into Sana’s womb. Sana’s second orgasm follows shortly after, your fluids mixing together inside of her. Out of an entire year of fucking these two wonderful girls, this is the hardest orgasm you have ever experienced.

Eventually, Sana collapses on top of you, gasping for breath, while Miyeon quickly laps up the fluids dripping from the Japanese woman’s legs. You can’t help but laugh at Sana’s post-orgasm shivering.

“H-holy… shit,” Sana says breathlessly. “That… was fucking amazing.”

Miyeon crawls up, laying her head on Sana’s chest. “Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?” The two girls giggle at each other, exchanging playful kisses and warm looks. You wrap your arm around the both of them, grateful that they’re not fighting anymore.

“How did I get so lucky to have the two of you in my life?” You ask, gazing at these two beauties lovingly. With a quick glance at the clock, you notice that you still have a couple hours until the dinner reservation. “Why don’t you two hop in the shower and get ready? I have something special planned for tonight.”

“You’re not gonna join us?” Miyeon asks.

“I would love to, princess, but I know for a fact that we’re not gonna make it to dinner if I join you in the shower,” you joke. Sana jolts up, grabbing Miyeon’s wrist.

“I am NOT missing out on dinner,” Sana states, dragging Miyeon into the bathroom with her. Right before they close the door behind them, they turn to you one last time.

“We love you!” They say in unison.

You lay back on the bed, smiling to yourself as you look up at the ceiling. How did you ever get so lucky?

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thevoidstaredback · 6 months ago

Text

Damian lost. Damian has never lost before. He never loses! Losing means you're weak, and Damian is not weak. He grew up fast and strong and is only ever getting stronger!

But he couldn't kill her.

Damian had been raised to think that love of any kind was a weakness. Grandfather did not love mother because he is not weak. Mother loved father and that made her weak. Damian could not love Danyal because that would make him weak. Grandfather expected great things from him. He could not afford to be weak.

Before they were set to leave Nanda Parbat to live and train with their father, Damian and Danyal had one final lesson with Grandfather. A fight, two versus one, on the edge of the Lazarus Pits.

Danyal did not survive. He did not resurface from the depths of the green water.

Grandfather called him weak. Mother said nothing. Damian was given no time to mourn before he was handed to his father with strict orders not to tell him about Danyal.

For all Grandfather and mother had done to him, Damian could not bring himself to kill either of them. His father had taught him to love, that it was a strength.

Damian loved his mother. He realized this as he stared into her eyes, his katana at her throat, his boot pinning her down. He could not kill her.

"You are foolish, habibi." she scolded, kneeing his back and sending him rolling forwards off of her and to the edge of the Pits. "You have discarded all I taught you."

"I have only added to those lessons," he faced her, "I remember everything you have taught me."

"You lie like your father. Obviously and bluntly."

"I have never lied to you."

"Then you have forgone my lessons!"

"Because you abandoned me!"

"I sent you away to learn. I came back for you. You abandoned me."

"A mother's role to teach her child just as the father's role is to protect." Damian leveled his weapon at her again. "You left me in the care of everyone but yourself, Talia Al Ghoul. You were only ever our mother in title, not name."

Talia lunged forward, meeting Damian's sword with her own. "You know not of what you speak, foolish child!"

"I know plenty!" He pushed back, forcing her back several feet. He followed if only to get away from the edge of the Pits. "No thanks to you."

"I gave you everything, Damian."

"No. You took everything from me. You held it all as a reward out of my reach."

"You wouldn't be where you are today if it wasn't for me and your Grandfather." she stated as though it were an undeniable truth, "Whether you acknowledge it or not, we raised you."

"I raised myself."

"We taught you everything you know."

"I taught myself!"

"We made you perfect!"

"You killed half of me!"

The silence overwhelmed the fighting in the tunnels, the shouting and running and bubbling of the Pits were all drowned out. Talia's sword lowered shakily. Damian's remained raised and steady.

"You allowed Grandfather to take Danyal from me. You forced me to forget him. You killed half of me."

"Habibi-"

"No!" He was shaking now. "He was my better half, just as I was his. And you took him from me."

"Damian-"

"You took my brother from me!" He charged madly at her, rage and grief overtaking him. "I will never forgive you for that!"

Talia matched him blow for blow. "Love is weakness, habibi. That is why he died. Danyal loved you and he paid his price for it."

With a scream, Damian doubled his efforts. His blows grew weak with rage as his mother pushed him back.

Damian knew he could not kill her. Some part of him still yearned for her approval. Some part of him still loved her.

Talia's sword impaled itself into the area below his sternum, piercing the armor and skin and muscle, stabbing through to the other side, the hilt stopping it from moving ant further.

Suddenly, the silence flooded over the cavern again. A shrill ringing filled Damian's ears as his grip weakened. His katana fell from his grasp, clattering to the floor so loudly, but so, so quietly. Blood spilled from Damian's mouth with a cough.

Talia drew her sword back, throwing it behind herself as she caught her son. Love is a weakness, but that had not stopped her before. Why hadn't it stopped her now?

"Damian? Habibi?" She cradled his body on her lap, her hand turning his face to her. "My darling?"

Damian's eyes were vacant, staring into a distance unseen. He heard nothing, felt nothing. He knows what was coming next. Sleep. Release. Soon, he'd be in his brother's arms again, just like when they were children. They'd have so long to catch up with each other.

Damian closed his eyes with a soft sigh.

Storyboard Part 2

#damian doesn't survive #i pulled this out of my ass #i need to sleep #but i had to get this out of my head #all of my knowledge is from fanfics and other fanon #dp x dc #dcxdp #damian wayne #talia al ghul #part 1/2 #reunion of brothers #only because theres a lot that needs to happen but this is a good place to end #this won't be a huge thing though #sorry not sorry

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0omillo0 · 2 months ago

Text

MODEL! HYUNJIN X FEM! MODEL! READER

autor’s note: hi! this is my first post, I hope you’ll like it!

warnings: none!! pure fluff

Hyunjin, a renowned Versace model and gifted artist, has grown used to the fast-paced world of fashion. But when Y/N, a new model, steps into the scene, her authenticity catches his eye. As their paths intertwine, Hyunjin finds himself drawn not just to her beauty, but to something deeper—especially when he discovers a personal connection to his art in her life.

The lights above the runway glowed bright as you walked, your heart racing with every step. It was your first major show—Versace, no less—and the pressure of the fashion world felt like it was resting squarely on your shoulders. You kept your face composed, though. It was the life you had chosen, after all.

As you reached the end of the runway and struck your final pose, you caught a glimpse of someone standing backstage. Hwang Hyunjin. A name you had heard whispered many times, both in the modeling industry and beyond. He was already legendary as a Versace model—and as an artist. He stood with that ethereal grace, watching the runway with a calm confidence. His aura drew you in instantly.

Backstage, the models buzzed with excitement, but you found yourself scanning the room for Hyunjin. You weren’t sure why—maybe it was the effortless way he carried himself, or the way his expressive eyes seemed to speak without words. But there he was, standing near a rack of designer outfits, quietly sketching in a notebook.

He must have felt your gaze, because his eyes lifted from the page and met yours.

You blinked and quickly turned away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

A moment later, you heard a voice behind you. “Nervous?”

Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Hyunjin. His smile was small but warm, and it made your heart stutter. “A little,” you admitted, forcing yourself to breathe.

“You didn’t show it out there. You looked great.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I would survive that.”

He chuckled, his laughter soft and genuine. “We all feel that way at first. Trust me.”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. “You were sketching something?”

“Oh,” he glanced down at the notebook in his hand, almost shyly, “yeah, just passing time. It’s nothing.”

“I bet it’s beautiful,” you said without thinking. His sketches were famous—everyone knew Hyunjin wasn’t just a model but an incredible artist. His works sold out faster than any runway show.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at your comment, looking a little surprised, but his smile grew just a bit wider. “Maybe one day you’ll see for yourself.”

---

Days turned into weeks, and as more Versace events brought you together, you and Hyunjin grew closer. What began as polite conversations evolved into genuine exchanges—talks about art, fashion, and life beyond the glitz and glamor. He was different from the others. Though he was breathtaking in every way, Hyunjin never acted like it. Instead, he carried himself with a quiet humility, a soul deeper than the world around him realized.

One evening, after a long day of fittings, you sat backstage, scrolling through your phone to relax. Hyunjin approached, as he often did these days, and sat beside you. His presence had become comforting.

"What are you looking at?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing special," you said, not thinking much of it as you showed him your phone. But his eyes widened slightly when he saw your lock screen.

It was one of his paintings—a swirling combination of colors and emotion that you had seen in an exhibition once. You loved how raw and alive it felt, and you had put it as your wallpaper without realizing Hyunjin might ever see it.

"That’s... my painting," he said softly, his voice almost touched with disbelief.

You felt a sudden rush of heat rise to your face. "Oh my god, I—yeah, it is. I didn’t think you'd—uh, I really loved it. It just felt so... powerful. I hope that's not weird."

He stared at the screen for a long moment before meeting your eyes. His usual calm demeanor had shifted, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in his expression.

"It’s not weird," he murmured, his voice lower than usual. "It’s... actually really special."

His hand brushed against yours as he handed your phone back, and neither of you moved away. The air between you seemed to thicken with something unspoken.

"You know," Hyunjin began, his gaze dropping for a second before looking back up, "people don’t usually talk about my art like that. They just think of me as a model."

"I don’t," you said softly. "I think you’re an incredible artist."

Hyunjin looked at you like you had said something life-changing. His hand stayed close to yours, and you felt a magnetic pull between you, as if something deeper had just clicked into place.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice almost fragile. "I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that."

---

As weeks passed, the connection between you and Hyunjin only deepened. The fashion shows continued, the flashing lights, the crowds, the interviews—but somehow, when you were with him, it all faded into the background.

He would seek you out between shoots, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. His attention to detail, the way he viewed the world through an artistic lens, the kindness in his words—it made your heart race every time you saw him.

One evening, after a long day of rehearsals, the two of you found yourselves alone in the studio. Hyunjin was working on a painting in the corner while you sat nearby, watching him with quiet admiration. He glanced at you every so often, his eyes soft.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the silence.

"Of course."

"Why my painting?" he asked, his voice careful, but curious. "Out of all the art you could’ve chosen, why mine?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "Because it felt real. When I saw it, I felt something… like it was a piece of your soul. It wasn’t just a pretty picture—it had emotion, depth. I could see you in it."

Hyunjin stared at you for a long moment, something intense flickering in his gaze. He set his brush down and took a slow step closer.

"You saw me in it?" he repeated, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

"Yeah," you nodded, holding his gaze. "I did."

Hyunjin's breath hitched, and in that moment, something shifted between you. He reached out, gently taking your hand. His touch was warm, and his thumb brushed over your skin as if testing whether this was real.

"I see you too, Y/N," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than you know."

You stared up at him, your heart pounding as he stepped closer. His face was inches from yours now, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. And in that quiet space, where words seemed unnecessary, Hyunjin leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

The world faded away, and for a moment, there was only the two of you—two artists, two souls, finding each other in the midst of the chaos.

———

I hope you enjoyed this story! Requests are open!!

#stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids x y/n #hyunjin fluff

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kamaluhkhan · 6 months ago

Note

hi there! i have a request for loser!luke where reader shows him where to put his hands on her and he's really eager to learn x

i completely understand if you don't write this since i'm sure there are many more requests, also could i be anon please!!

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader (afab) a/n: sorry this took forever but please enjoy !! also - this request came in before i started participating in fics for gaza; please click here to find out more about this initiative and how to participate/contribute word count: 795

MDNI !

“ugh, i told drew to clean up her shit,” you scoff, tossing away your half-sister’s used makeup wipes. “looks like the athena cabin is winning this time. 8.5/10?”

you look at luke for his input, but it’s no use. all luke has been good for this afternoon is whining, instead of helping you with this round of cabin inspections.

“katie loves roses.” luke stops to smell the bouquet that one of your siblings had next to their bunk.

“everyone loves roses,” you reply as you scribble down a score on your clipboard.

“but roses were her favorite.” luke pouts. he drops down onto your perfectly made bed, rumpling the sheets underneath him. “i hear what everyone is saying around camp, you know: about how katie gardener realized she was too good for me so she finally dumped me.”

you bite back a wince. you might have contributed to the gossip surrounding their breakup.

you sigh and take a seat next to luke, deciding it’s time to try and make him feel better.

“okay, castellan — enough moping. tell me what happened.”

“no.”

“luke. stop being a baby, i’m here to help.”

“it’s embarrassing.”

“well, you’re kinda embarrassing yourself already, with the whole love sick puppy act,” you point out, poking his thigh. luke swats your hand away.

“it’s really embarrassing, though.”

“oh, please; i’ve heard it all. you’d be surprised how many people confess to the head counselor of the aphrodite cabin; i mean, i am my mother’s favorite, but still —”

“katie broke up with me because i couldn’t get her off,” luke suddenly blurts.

there’s a moment of silence, and then you can’t help it — you burst out laughing.

“hey!” luke exclaims. “you said you were here to help. i knew it was embarrassing!”

“sorry, sorry.” you swallow your smile. “it’s just — did you not realize that she was faking it?”

“obviously not!” luke groans, his cheeks a vibrant red. “she was very convincing.”

you almost admire katie — knowing that she’s worth more than a guy she has to fake orgasms for — but you remind yourself that you’re here to comfort luke.

luke falls back onto the bed, hands covering his face.

“i wouldn’t be too hard on yourself — it’s actually really common for women to fake orgasms. mostly because men have no idea what to do.”

“because sex is impossible,” luke groans.

“it’s not, actually. think of it this way — how’d you get to be the best swordsman at camp?”

“...through training and lots of practice.”

you nod once. “exactly. sex is the same: you need to learn what your partner wants and what makes them feel good.”

“then i’ll be the best?”

you roll your eyes. “then you’ll be the best, and katie gardner will be sorry that she ever dumped you.”

luke doesn’t say anything, so you figure it’s time to get back to your senior counselor duties. you collect your clipboard and start getting up.

“wait.” luke grabs your wrist before you can move any further. “would you be open to….training with me?”

you hesitate, but you can’t deny that you’re intrigued by the offer. “look, castellan, you’re fragile now from the breakup and clearly not in your right mind —”

“i want to learn,” luke insists.

and that’s how you find yourself, legs spread wide with your back pressed against luke’s bare chest. you suck on two of his fingers as you guide his other hand to your breast, prompting him to pinch your nipple.

his chin is hooked over your shoulder, watching intently as you now bring his spit-soaked fingers down and plunge them into your pussy.

“this is a good start,” you praise. your own fingers scrape through his curls as you encourage him to go faster, harder. “now, if you really wanna make someone cum....”

you move his thumb to your clit.

“like this?” luke asks, his voice low. you throw your head back in pleasure when he presses down and starts rubbing in tight circles. luke becomes more confident after that. he curls his fingers inside you, and brushes the spot that always makes you unravel.

per your instructions, luke keeps plunging his fingers into you as you ride out your high. once you come down, he pulls out and sucks off your juices off.

“tastes real,” he hums; you nudge his side. “what! am i wrong?”

you shake your head, and luke responds with a triumphant grin.

“i’d say that was a good first lesson.”

“you’re already my star student,” you praise. you turn around so you can straddle him properly, kiss him and lick up any remnants of you on his lips. he moans underneath you when you rub yourself on his hardened length. “but, you still have a lot to learn.”

#saf writes #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan smut

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yourmomxx · 1 year ago

Note

Emily Prentiss(chief or not cheif) X Fem!Reader have been secretly married for several years, (if emily is cheif they’ve been dating since she was an agent and then married when she was a cheif and if not obviously the opposite). No ike knows or expects emily to be in a relationship because she doesn’t say anything until one day she forgets her badge and lunch at home so her wife brings her stuff and the whole place is shocked ? bonus if tara or someone flirts with her

a/n: ooh, I love me some secret relationship trope! Unfortunately, I'm still only on season 5/6 of Criminal Minds, so I just kept Emily as an Agent and not as Chief, if that's alright (Tara is in it, though ;)). I hope you like this, anon!

— ❝ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴀᴍ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s ɴᴏ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴄʏ. Mʏ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ʟɪfᴇ ɪs ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇss ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʀᴏfɪʟᴇ.❞ —

-Jennifer Jareau

Emily Prentiss was a private person. She prided herself in it.

I mean try it, hiding something from an entire office of educated professionals in degrees on how to read the most subtle shifts in a persons behavior and building a view based on that information.

Of course, let’s not forget, there’s the general rule, or rather, interdict, of profiling the other members of your team. But sometimes, you can’t help yourself.

Emily had noticed it in herself more times than she would like to admit.

Sometimes, it happened as easy as breathing, a natural trail of thought that let loose when she caught on about something or the people around her. She tried to undermine it as quickly as possible whenever she realized she was doing it, though.

It’s not the fact that she didn’t trust them.

No, that was never the thing, those people were like her second family. Or her first even, maybe.

But after spending almost every waking hour of the past years of her life around them, there were some things that she would rather keep for herself.

Leave them be in their own bubble that was just ‘Emily Prentiss’.

And when she talked about ‘things’, then she was actually talking about you.

The team could find out about her pregnancy, about her resentment towards the church. They could know that she had a phase at fourteen where she liked licorice and hasn’t been able to eat it since those dreadful seven months, or that she still hated her father for being emotionally unavailable and leaving her to deal with her mother on her own; they could know that.

But they couldn’t know about you. Never you.

This is wasn’t an issue of trust, again.

Trust was never in the mix when she made the decision, every morning before work, to lay off her wedding ring and keep it safe on a small chain in her back pocket.

But you were her safe place. A rock, a tow, something for her to hold on to, the only thing that was in no way connected to her work place.

Emily loved you, she did so much, and she’d known it after the first time she saw you smile, and accepted it during the first time she kissed you.

And hiding you, keeping you safe from all of this, was her way of shedding off the horrors and traumas of her job when she came home at night, completely tune out whatever she had experienced mere hours before, and dive back into you.

Your shared house, shared bed, shared sheets, shared kitchen, shared table.

Not talking about you, or even admitting you existed, while she worked and saw the worst sides of what humanity had to offer, drew a distinct line between her life with you and the life she led at work.

Call it a personal protective shield.

So, no, she would never, ever tell them.

“No. For God’s - No.”

Which is why, when Emily Prentiss walked into the bureau that morning, and realized her credentials weren’t in their designated pocket, and also her bag was empty of her lunch box, she knew that she was doomed.

Emily knew about your caring side. The loving, mothering, always everyone's shoulder to cry on-side.

Hell, if she was being honest, it was one of the reasons she started falling so hard for you so easily.

In that moment, though? God, how she wished she would have chosen a narcissist.

(Not literally, though. She'd profiled guys like that before. They really weren't wife- or husband material.)

You had just been on your way out of the house when you had seen your wife's dark lunch box still residing on the counter top where you had prepared it for her an hour ago.

After a quick look at the time on your phone screen, you had short-handedly decided to slightly delay your trip to the pharmacy for some mundane refills, and drop by Emily's office to bring her her lunch.

After all, you knew how busy she could get, and how her focused state had the power to drown out every other basic need her body had.

If you wouldn't make lunch for her, she wouldn't have the time, or the head, to think of buying something for herself, you knew that.

One would think that was clear after almost an entire year of marriage.

The thought alone brought a smile to your face.

You grabbed your car key off the counter and hurried your way out the door, closed it behind you, halted for a moment - and slowly backed up inside again.

You eyed the black case next to the key bowl suspiciously.

"That wasn't there yesterday," You muttered to yourself.

Cautiously, because when your wife worked in the FBI, anything was possible, you reached for the leather-bound case and drew it closer to you.

When you opened it, the tension immediately left your shoulders. You shook your head sighing at the sight of your wife's passport picture and the huge, dark blue letters FBI showing themselves to you.

"Oh, Emily, what am I gonna do with you?"

When you left the house then, it was final.

Hopefully.

"What's up with you, you seem stressed out?"

Emily did her best not to flinch in her already tense state when JJ came up next to her.

She managed her best, reassuring smile and pressed her sweating palms into the side of her jeans.

"Oh, it's nothing," She lied. "Just thought I lost something."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Alright," She muttered. "If you say so."

Then, she crashed a light brown paper file into Emily's chest.

"This just came in from El Paso, three homicides so far. I'll inform the rest of the team and we'll meet in the briefing room in ten."

Emily couldn't do more than nod, and just managed to grab the file before it slipped to the floor when JJ left.

She wasn't usually like this. She was good at keeping her head in the game.

But right now, the fact that her credentials were missing wasn't exactly stressing her out, because she knew that you would bring them to her as soon as you realized that she had forgotten them at home.

Emily was stressed out because she knew you would bring them to her.

What she didn't know, was, however she should act and how the team would possibly take it.

The elevator you entered took a tremendous amount of time to realize which floor you wanted to go to, and even longer to slide the doors closed and jerking to a start.

You would think that in an official federal office building, the mechanics could be more advanced.

Then again, counting the many times Emily complained about the budget allocation of the bureau when she tought you weren't listening, maybe you shouldn't be all that surprised.

The doors slid closed when the thought suddenly hit you.

You were about to enter your wife's office. Which you had never been to, not once in your life and only knew the address of because goddamn, was it hard to miss.

The building that was probably the only thing that Emily had wanted to keep you out of for as long as she could.

And you came here for a lunch box.

Emily knew you knew. You had talked to her about it, she had answered your questions on why she always got fussy when you asked her how you could finally meet her team, and you had understood, every time, but this?

She couldn't just ask you to actively lie about your relationship in front of most of - all of - her friends, could she?

The last time she had checked your location, it had already shown you in close vacinity to the BAU building. She could figure what was ahead.

Was she about to deny a relationship?

“Can I help you?”

This office had way too many doors, in your opinion, and way too few signs telling you where to find what.

The greeting voice made you look up, and you automatically shifted into your politeness to strangers-mode, upon seeing a woman come up to you, wearing a two-piece and her hair in loose curls.

A very pretty woman, you had to admit.

"My name's Tara Lewis," She introduced herself, "Who are you looking for, sweetheart?"

You quickly waved her off. “Oh, I don’t work here.”

Tara tipped her head, eyes not so subtly shifting up and down your appearance.

“I figured as much, I would have remembered a face like yours.”

You managed an awkward laugh.

Emily had once, in good fun, told you you were easily caught off guard by people showing genuine interest in you all of a sudden.

You hated when she was right.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Just over Tara Lewis' shoulder, you were suddenly able to spot the dark hair that indicated Emily Prentiss approaching from behind her.

You nodded in her direction in recognition, as she came to a halt next to Tara Lewis.

"I'm a friend of Emily's," You lied, and by God, you did it so neatly, Emily was questioning if she had maybe already dragged you down without realizing.

"She texted me that she forgot her lunch and her badge, and since we're close to each other, she asked me to get it for her."

That polite smile was still present on your face, and your voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

You threw Emily small looks in-between, unspotted by the usual eye, but she noticed them.

You were telling her to go along, to play the game, string it all a bit further until it turned into a web that could either wrap around and suffocate her, or catch her when she stumbled.

And she probably should.

Because you made it easy. You had made it so easy for her, laid it out like a red carpet for her to walk on, the lie, that could keep her sanctuary safe-

"I'm married."

In the midst of talking to Tara, your words died in your throat and your mouth stopped, hanging open.

Tara herself whipped her head around so fast, it was a question if she was breaking her neck, eyes ripped wide open in complete and utter schock.

It was quiet. In-between the three of you, a needle dropping would have echoed like the loudest drum.

"Say what now?" Tara didn’t take her eyes off Emily for a moment.

Slowly, movement seemed to re-enter your muscles and your eyes widened at the absolute extent of what had just happened.

"What are you doing?" You hushed at Emily.

Your wife's gaze - who you loved dearly, but in situations like these, could just hold by the shoulders and shake, shake, shake - tumbled between you and her co-worker, and you could almost decipher the exact moment she graciously invited the 'fuck it'-attitude.

Emily's shoulders dropped.

"I'm married," She repeated. Calm, collected, and slow.

All of the things you were totally not feeling right now.

"This is Y/N." Emily stepped next to you and held you gently by your wrist. "My wife."

And if the English Dictionary had demonstrating pictures next to each word, Tara Lewis' face right now would be pinned under 'bafflement'.

It took a moment, actually it took a few, for the Doctor to collect herself again.

She straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat, and shook herself out, as if to remove any unnecessary consideration that kept her from thinking clearly.

"Who knows about this?" It was her first question.

Where your shoulders were ever so slightly touching, you could feel Emily's body stay tense.

"Not really anyone," She admitted.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Emily shook her head. "Y/N is my personal life," She cleared. "I spend almost every awake minute with you people. I wanted something to myself."

As subtly as you could, you leaned your body the slightest bit closer to her. It wasn't visible to the lazy eye, but Emily could feel it.

She squeezed your wrist.

You were comfort to her.

Tara's eyes flew between the two of you, contemplating, observing.

Then, from one moment to another, her lips broke into a blinding grin.

"A wife," She repeated. Emily ripped her eyes open to interpret her friend that she should keep her voice down.

"Good for you," Tara smiled.

Emily visibly relaxed. A breath she had been holding escaped her lungs soundly.

"Let's just be clear," She told Tara, "This is still my thing." She gestured to you. "My marriage is still my thing. I don't need the entire team on me like vultures, profiling my love life like they do everything else."

Tara nodded earnestly. Her small curls were bumping up and down. She pulled her fingers across her lips and pretented to turn a key in the corner of her mouth.

"My lips are sealed." She threw the imaginary key far, far behind the office desks. "Lovergirl."

Emily ignored her and turned to you.

Your fingers lingered around hers in the movement.

"Thank you," She breathed out quietly. A soft smile played around your lips as you looked into her eyes, recognizing that specific gentleness that you knew she only gifted you with.

"Anytime."

You placed her lunch box in her hands. "It's rice with some peas and corn." Emily smiled. "You're the best."

"And, before I forget-" You pulled out the badge from your bag, but instead of giving it to Emily directly, you opened her suit jacket and found the inner pocket, safely storing the credentials where you knew she kept them every day.

You smoothed out the jacket when you were done.

"There you go."

Emily didn't even know what to say. That warm feeling, that she felt in her entire body every time she looked at you, realized who you were and who you were to her, it made itself known in this moment right now.

Right here, in the middle of her workspace.

And with all the horrors she'd see, it was probably the most content she had felt in this place in a while.

"You are so amazing." The words didn't come close to what she was feeling.

But the way your eyebrows loosened, and your lips slightly parted, she knew you understood.

"This is so sweet, and I hate to be that person, but Prentiss, we have a case to get to."

Emily cleared her throat, being ripped from whatever that moment had been, and reminded on what ground she was standing right now.

"Right," She said. She opened her arms and leaned in to pull you into a hug.

A hug, not a kiss on the cheek.

She wasn't that far yet.

"It's okay." The feeling of your breathed words tickled near her ear. "I understand."

Emily squeezed you a bit tighter.

"Get home safe."

You slowly broke away from the embrace.

"I will," You promised.

Tara mouthed a quick 'I'm so sorry' in your direction. You laughed and waved her a goodbye, before you headed for the elavator again, and she got on her way to follow after Emily, who had already made her way to where JJ had ordered them a few minutes ago.

Tara endured until the top step.

"Oh.my.God. I can't believe it!" She almost squealed as they made their way next to each other to the briefing room.

"Look at us, sharing secrets now. Ah." She shook out her shoulders. "I feel like this is a pyjama party in junior year all over again. Amazing."

Emily couldn't do anything else than grin at Tara's antics.

Suddenly, her pocket vibrated with a short tune, and Emily pulled out her phone to check her display.

It was a message from you. Emily smiled softly as she read it.

Have a good day, my sun. Will hopefully see you tonight<3

"A message from boo?" Tara mocked, and tried to peak over Emily's shoulder.

Emily quickly shut off the display, stuffed her phone back into her backpocket and continued walking.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

But the lovesick smile didn't leave Emily's face for the rest of the way to the briefing room, partly because she was so caught up in her thoughts about the specific feeling of your skin, that she didn't even notice she was wearing it.

#emily prentiss #requested #answered #yourmomxx #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #female reader #emily prentiss fluff

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kingkat12 · 28 days ago

Text

all yours (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, phone sex, dark!Roman is back oops, descriptions of sex, foul language, yandere!reader sort of??

summary: why did Letha call?-- actually, the better question is, will Roman let you find out why?

word count: 8,551

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8

a/n: hi lovelies!!! to clarify, there are a few mentions of the beautiful actress Romy Schneider, and I will link her HERE for you to get who i'm talking about!! i had a dream where i called Roman Romy and i thought huh where did i get that from, and then i realized it was because i watched a movie with miss Schneider in it, so there you go!! THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! enjoy!<33

I stared at the missed call from Letha, the glow of the screen illuminating my face as I hid beneath my duvet. Frozen in a fetal position, I listened to the sound of my heartbeat as my thumb inched toward her name.

It was late-- too late to be awake, and too early to make a decision. The silence of my bedroom wrapped around me as my brows drew together in conflict, my head buzzing incessantly. It felt wrong to contemplate calling Letha back, especially as the cinnamon flavour of Roman's cigarettes lingered on my tongue. If I focused, I could still feel the push of his lips against my neck, and the pressure of his strong arms against my waist. It all made me shiver-- I wasn't sure what it would mean for my relationship with Roman if I called Letha back. How could I guarantee it wouldn't all blow up in my face?

I groaned, hopefully not loud enough to wake my parents, before I scrolled away from Letha's name. I needed a reminder of why I had thrown my friendship with her away, why I had messed it all up in the first place-- I had to drown out the memory of Letha's laugh somehow.

So, I pressed my phone up against my ear, placing a hand over my heart to feel it thud against my palm while I waited. The beating of my blood quickened when I realized my call was getting answered despite the lateness of the hour;

"Hey, you,"

Oh, I nearly melted at the sound of his voice. "Rome," I echoed, giving into a soft smile.

I heard the shifting of bedsheets in the background; "Miss me already?"

"Yeah..."

"I left, like, two hours ago,"

"So? I can hear you smiling over there,"

Roman's warm chuckle sounded through the other end of the phone, and I imagined him shaking his head. "Say it again,"

It was impossible not to stir-- I couldn't lay still when his voice was so deep and tired. "I miss you," I peeked my head up from the duvet, as it was getting damn warm beneath my covers. "I'm sorry for calling so late, I just... needed to clear my head."

He hummed, stretching; "It's alright, I wasn't sleeping,"

"What were you doing then?"

There was a rather pregnant pause. "... None of your business,"

"Oh?" I propped myself up on my elbows, intrigued. "Roman, are you?--"

"What did you need to clear your head about?"

I realized I wasn't getting anywhere with this, and that I quickly needed to stop thinking about my boyfriend spread out on his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, slowly palming himself through the fabric-- no, I needed to get my mind out of the gutter. "We didn't get a lot of time to discuss the fact that Letha called,"

"Okay... Do you plan on calling her back?"

My heart only beat harder against my palm, and I had to swallow hard as I laid back down on the bed; "Would you be mad if I did?" The silence that ensued made my hands clammy-- I ended up wiping them on my duvet as I waited for his answer, holding my breath.

"Maybe?" Roman sighed, and I heard him tossing around in his bed. "I don't know what this feeling is, but... I just know it makes my chest burn. Doesn't feel good."

Something about his cluelessness made me want to grab his pretty face and pepper it with kisses. "Could be anxiety?"

"Nah, I don't have that shit,"

"Oh, Roman, everyone gets a little anxious sometimes!--"

"Stop rolling your eyes, I can hear it,"

Shocked, my heart nearly stopped-- he was right. I had rolled my eyes, and it freaked me out that he knew . "Fine... I won't call her back, then,"

"Alright,"

"You don't have to worry,"

"Alright,"

"Uh, do you have anything else to say other than alright?--"

"No,"

"... Alright," My brows drew together in confusion, wondering why Roman was retreating into his shell of emotional neglect. It was clear to me that the subject of Letha made him deeply uneasy, that he was probably worried she'd need me to break up with him for us to be friends again, but I tried to find comfort in the fact that he was scared to lose me... despite not being able to say that out loud.

Still, Roman always managed to surprise me-- I heard him sigh once more at the other end of the phone, but this time, in a sulky manner. "Could you say it again?"

"Say what?"

"What you said in the car," I could hear the embarrassment in his voice, knowing he didn't usually make requests like these; "That you're mine."

My eyes widened just a smidge, staring up at my ceiling with a bewildered look on my face. The tone of his voice made my stomach flip, wondering why my brain went haywire for the needy sound of his request. I did my best not to squeal and kick my feet like a little girl-- "All yours, Rome,"

A hum; "All mine?"

"All yours," My smile spread wider than ever before, joy blossoming in my chest. "Only yours."

He let out a shaky breath-- "Shit... don't say it like that,"

"Like what?"

"Like that," Roman shifted around in his bed, and I heard him kicking away his duvet. "I was already horny before you called, don't make it worse."

I was afraid my eyes would pop out of my skull as my air caught in my throat. So he had been doing what I thought he'd been doing? "You were the one who asked me to say it," I tried, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my body. This was definitely not going to help me sleep. "Why were you even doing that right now? It's so late!"

Roman only laughed-- "That call from Letha fucking cockblocked me in the car, what do you expect?"

"Christ," I mumbled, shaking my head as I pressed my palm against my forehead. Something about this was too damn thrilling. "So you're still... y'know?"

"Yep,"

"And... you're doing it right now?"

Another laugh ensued, deeper this time."Nah, I'm not that creepy. Just waiting for it to go down now... which is why you can't tell me you're mine with that sexy little voice of yours,"

Gosh, how that took my breath away. And even worse, was the maelstrom of ideas churning in my head about ways to milk this situation-- I really hoped my parents were asleep for this one. "Roman?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm all yours,"

As expected, Roman groaned on the other end of the line. "Is that a green light?" he breathed. "Don't fuck with me right now, my brain doesn't work properly when you're involved."

I hadn't blushed like this in ages-- "I'm here if you want to go for it," Never in a million years did I think I would be having phone sex, especially not with Roman Godfrey. If someone had told me a month ago that this would be happening, I would've fainted on the spot.

Roman's laugh was deep, warm; I pressed the phone against my cheek as my hands trembled in excitement. "Go for it," he echoed, a mocking tone about it. "I'm not doing this shit alone!"

"Oh?"

"Not a fat chance in hell, baby. What are you wearing?"

My brows drew together as I realized what he was up to. Nervous, I lifted my duvet to check. My mind was so clouded by the thrill that I had genuinely forgotten what I was wearing. "Uh... A big t-shirt and my underwear?"

A hum. "What colour?"

"The t-shirt?" I wasn't sure why that mattered.

Another laugh from Roman ensued-- this was probably the moment it dawned on him that I hadn't done this before either. "Fuck it, we'll skip this part," he murmured. "The panties, babe. Take them off."

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, my trembling hands scurrying to take them off. As I laid my head back on my pillow, discarding my underwear somewhere along the bed, I pressed my phone back up to my ear just at the right moment-- I heard Roman's short, ragged breath, presumably resuming his activities. "Ugh, I miss having my mouth on you," he breathed, shifting around. "I've told you how good you taste, right?"

"Yeah, you have," His words made me want to squeal and throw my phone across the room, my brain going haywire. "I don't get it, but I'm not complaining. I like having you between my legs."

"Good. I'm planning to be there quite a lot,"

I squeezed my thighs together-- this was making me aroused a lot quicker than I was willing to admit. Still, I decided to be bold; "Too bad we were interrupted today... Was looking forward to having my mouth on you as well,"

"Right... As if you'd do that in my car on that open street,"

"There was no one there!" I rolled my eyes at the sound of Roman's laugh. "What I'm trying to say is that I'd like to try one day."

"Yeah?" His voice was deeper now, raw-- "You'd want me to teach you how?"

I could only imagine the sight of him now; the way he closed his eyes, his hand wrapped around his hard cock as he worked his fingers around his shaft. I nearly lost my breath just thinking about it, and suddenly my mind was throwing me images of how it would be to wrap my mouth around it. How Roman would hold my hair, slowly buck up into my mouth with a soft grunt, telling me how good I was doing, how nice it felt-- I had a hard time snapping out of it. "Would love for you to teach me everything,"

"Fuck, baby," I could hear the shaky motions of his breath, the way it was on the brink of hitching. "Gonna take my time, teach you all I know... Don't you worry."

"You will?"

"You bet," Roman's voice was now barely a whisper against the phone, his words catching in his chest. "Gonna teach you how to take my cock, I know you'll do so well... So, so well, just like everything else you do."

That was it-- I reached between my legs, closing my eyes as I placed my fingers against my clit. It was impossible to stay away now. "You'll take care of me, won't you? Go slow?"

"Of course I will-- hah,"

My breath grew unsteady; "Shit, Rome, you've got me wet in record time," I dipped my fingers a little further down, feeling my arousal pooling between my legs.

"Yeah? Well, I'm damn hard for you," he breathed, a soft, quiet moan following. "Wanna sink into you, feel your tight little pussy around me..."

Had I not been so out of it, I would've called him out for being vulgar. Roman hadn't been this dirty before. My cheeks were downright burning.

"Wanna fuck you so good, you'll never leave. You'll just keep coming back, letting me make you cum over and over..."

I was squirming at this point-- oh, what I would give for Roman to be here with me right now. Have him wrap his arm around me, rub my clit for me, whispering all these dirty things into my ear instead of through the phone. "I won't leave, Rome,"

That seemed to be the most compelling thing I could've said. I could almost hear the way he threw his head back against his pillow, a small, wanton moan escaping his lips; "You're all mine, baby... Only mine, aren't you?"

Who would've thought this was the thing that would break Roman Godfrey?

"All yours,"

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I was rather anxious to see Roman the next day at school-- I didn't know how to deal with all the dirty stuff we talked about on the phone last night. How was I supposed to look him in the eyes, knowing he thought about me like that? I wasn't complaining, but it was incredibly foreign.

We hadn't talked much today, other than the usual good morning text, and I dreaded answering the text he sent me right afterward;

romy schneider: did you sleep well?;)

I was aware that it sounded innocent, but it was impossible not to hear Roman's voice while reading it. All breathy, the signature smirk on display, roping me in with one hand on my waist as he whispered it into my ear... No, I couldn't answer it. Just thinking about it made me blush.

I had made it to second period without seeing any members of the Godfrey family, all until I had to cross the campus to get to my next class. There he was, not too far away from the football field, leaning against a lamp post as he lit his cigarette.

Roman hadn't noticed me yet, and a part of me hoped he wouldn't just yet. I wanted to take my time, watch the way his hair fell over his forehead in gentle motions as he lowered his head towards the lighter, the way his lips wrapped around the cigarette, and the way his beautiful green eyes suddenly darted up and landed right on me--

I nearly squeaked, stopping in my tracks as my breath caught in my throat. Even worse, was the cough that choked itself out of me. I hadn't expected him to notice me staring, not when I was this far away. My hands trembled as I tried to pull myself together, catching a glimpse of Roman's classic smirk as his cigarette lay comfortably between his lips. His eyes darkened, a mischievous shimmer in his gaze as he motioned for me to come over.

I was a mess by the time I reached him, and I tried to rub my clammy hands off my shirt in a way that wouldn't give away my stress. Still, I had an inkling he knew, and I only made it worse for myself when I opened my mouth; "Hey, dude,"

Immediately, it felt like my brain was on fire-- what was that? Stupid, stupid!

Roman seemed taken aback by that as well, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Since when do you call me dude?" He stifled a chuckle, taking a long drag of his cigarette; "I know about Romy Schneider, but this is new."

I only called him Romy Schneider to tease him on days he was exceptionally pretty (which could technically be any day), but dude? Now, it was downright obvious how nervous I was. "I-- Okay, just forget I said that," Kicking away a nearby rock, I lowered my gaze, no longer able to meet his. Roman's face was enough to unravel me, especially after what had been said last night.

Still, he laughed, blowing out a simple ring of smoke. "You're nervous,"

"Am not!"

"Fine. Look at me, then,"

Clenching my jaw, I adhered. My lashes fell heavy over my eyes, my lack of sleep stirring in my chest as I scanned my boyfriend; he was so handsome today, so calm. Roman leaned down, now balancing his cigarette between his fingers as he lowered himself to my level, inches away from my face in a rather intimidating manner-- the tension was so thick, I could probably run my fingers through it. "Is someone a little embarrassed?" he cooed, nudging my shoulder. "Not used to me running my mouth like last night?"

I was relieved to know I didn't have to explain why I was so flustered today-- still, I was being painstakingly put on the spot. "You always run your mouth, Rome, that's nothing new,"

"Not like that, though," Roman's eyes were practically sparkling. "It's alright if you can't take it. Just tell me if you can't."

Can't take it? Who did he think he was? There was a burning challenge in his voice, and mixed with my slight offense, it only lead to the following; "I can take it," I huffed, stepping forward. "You think I can't?"

Roman hummed, the corners of his mouth curving up into an evil grin. "Nah, I think you can. You're a quick learner," He pressed a short kiss against my cheek before straightening up, placing his cigarette back between his lips before leaning against the lamp post again. "You can keep up with me, right?" he mumbled in between a drag. "I'm not scaring you back into Letha's arms?"

Roman said it with a sense of humour, but I couldn't help but catch onto the anxiety hiding behind his words. My brows drew together, watching as he finished his cigarette and threw it to the ground, stomping it. I cleared my throat; "I thought we talked about this last night... You're quite hung up on this Letha thing, aren't you?--"

"No,"

That was too quick to be believable. "Rome?--"

"I'm not," As he turned back to me, Roman's eyes narrowed. I had forgotten how quickly his demeanour could change, with the snap of a finger. Suddenly, he was cold. "Stop projecting on me. You're being dramatic."

Huh? There was no way to contain the grimace that followed. My eyes widened, bewildered that he was snapping at me. That truly came out of nowhere. "What?" I breathed. "I'm not projecting-- Why is this setting you off so bad? We don't even know why she called me or what she truly wants!"

Roman groaned; it was clear that he hadn't meant to instigate a fight. Especially not on school grounds. "Jeez, could you lower your voice? People are staring," His cheeks redded a little as he caught the eyes of a few students passing us by, and he lowered his gaze to the ground, cursing under his breath.

I took a quick glance around, snorting as I turned back to him. "Roman, now that you're my boyfriend, I'm comfortable enough to tell you that you can't snap at me like that anymore. Or talk to me like that, for that matter. Ever! Those days are over, do you hear me?"

Roman's eyes widened to the likes of big, shiny plates of china, staring back at me with a look of both anger and horror. His lips drew a straight line and his jaw clenched before he spat pure venom; "Wow... You really know how to make a big deal out of nothing,"

Those words chilled me to the bone. Shellshocked, I took a step back, holding my breath as my eyes drilled into his. Roman's chest rose and fell in slow, long motions, none of us knowing what to say.

It was at this moment that I heard a cheerleader-cry coming from the football field, catching my attention. My gaze went past Roman and to the team that was practicing, doing some sorts of somersaults in the air as they howled the school's motto. And as we stood here with a clear view of the cheerleader team, practically hiding behind this lamp post, something dawned on me-- why had Roman been standing here in the first place? Why this exact place?

He seemed to be catching onto my trail of thoughts, turning to glance at my transfixion. It gave me a moment to lose face, opening and shutting my mouth as I flailed my arms in exasperation. It only got worse when I realized several girls on the team were waving at him, and I recognized one of them to be one of his earlier flings. Was it the one he screwed back in March? Then, it suddenly dawned on me that Roman wasn't turning back to me, his gaze now resting on the waving cheerleaders and their ridiculously short skirts as he nodded to himself in boyish approval--

My heart sank all the way down to my shoes. "Really, Roman? Really?" I didn't expect my voice to be so frail, so upset.

He sensed my tone, finally laying his eyes on me with an irritated look about him. Roman reached up to move his hair out of his forehead, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke; "What is it now? Just appreciating the view,"

"Appreciating... the view?" I was stunned. Stunned. It felt as though he had stabbed me right in the chest-- who the fuck talks like that to their girlfriend? "I'm glad to see you're invested in the relationship I threw everything away for. Thank you for the reminder, Roman, that you're still just a guy."

With a laugh, Roman was back to smiling-- he was giving me a severe case of whiplash. "What? They're waving at me, it's normal to check out who it is! You know I'm not going anywhere, right?"

No, I had to look away. I couldn't think clearly now that he looked so charming again. Why did he have to be so hot and cold? I had hoped we were past this on the spectrum of Roman-ness. It only got worse when he stepped forward, pressing a warm kiss to my temple. "All yours," he whispered against my skin, placing his hand on my cheek as he towered above me. "Let me walk you to class, hm?"

I had to take a deep breath, my eyes closing to relish in the fact that Roman was kissing me so openly in front of everyone, especially in front of the cheerleaders. Still, I knew I had to gather my thoughts-- the discomfort was lingering in my chest, the creeping unease settling in my mind. I didn't want to let this slide.

I strained a smile to mask my inner turmoil as I put my hand over his, getting up on my tippytoes to press a shy kiss to Roman's lips, feeling him sigh against me. It was short, sweet, and like a temporary band-aid. So when I pulled away, it felt like I was ripping it off with all my might-- I didn't want to. I forced myself to speak, clearing my throat; "I'll walk myself to class, thanks,"

I could see it in his eyes that he was taken aback, not expecting that I would turn down his offer. The flicker of confusion streaked across Roman's face like a flash of lightning. "Uh, okay... What subject do you have now?" he tried, an attempt to drag out our time together.

"... I'm gonna be late," I couldn't help myself-- I pressed a kiss to his cheek, wanting to feel him once more. If there was one thing I could find solace in, it was the fact that I could kiss him as often as I wanted to now that we were together. "Please find another place to smoke. You're breaking my heart."

That seemed to land a blow to Roman, whose brows drew together in a look of hurt. I was reminded of his promises to not hurt me, to do his best to keep me happy, and I left him by the lamp post hoping he remembered his words as clearly as I did.

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And I thought my unease wouldn't get worse. As the days flew by, I was positive, hopeful even. However, staring down at the messages Letha sent me this morning, I couldn't help but feel a sense of doom as I waited for Roman's last class to be over.

Several days had passed since the last time I saw Letha at the gas station, where she had tried to apologize to me. Her words of longing, how she insisted that she missed me and never meant for anyone to get hurt, had etched themselves into my mind, unable to be forgotten.

So, I figured it wouldn't do any more harm to read what she had written. I had waited all day to open her messages, after all. It was gnawing on my mind at this point-- My thumb hovered above the message notification, and I held my breath as my eyes grazed the words on the screen;

letha: hey... i didn't expect you to answer my call a few days ago, much less call me back, but i don't want to give up just yet. i want you to know how sorry i am that you were hurt and that i no longer talk to Jasmine, but that you deserve to know the truth after everything you've been put through this past month. i know you and Roman are a couple now, since he told me at dinner... and frankly because the whole school won't shut up about my baby cousin no longer harassing everyone. who would've thought?

letha: you were once mine, and i was yours. i might never fully forgive you for going behind my back, but you were my best friend in the whole world. i'm so tired of acting like i don't miss you. could we please talk?

letha: you need to know the truth about Roman. please.

I should've known this was a bad idea. I should've known. Pressing my phone up against my chest, feeling my heart beat against it, I squeezed my eyes shut as the school bell rang. Several students rushed out of the doors in the hallway, and I knew I had to get myself together before Roman saw me so out of it.

He and I hadn't been properly alone for a while. Although I had missed him and his lips against mine, I was still seething inside about him staring at the cheerleaders and the awful conversation before and after. I was still battling my jealousy regarding the situation; why had he been so snappy, all of a sudden? And why did he feel the need to appreciate the view? Everything about it made me nauseous.

Still, I didn't deny Roman when he caught up with me at lunch earlier today and asked me to wait for him after school. He had been so incessant, so sweet-- I missed my little devil, no matter how insecure he made me.

I got a few odd looks from the people passing me in the hall as I harshly patted my face in an attempt to snap out of my dark spiral of thoughts. Unfortunately, Roman also caught this just as he stepped out of his classroom; "What are you doing?" he asked, grimacing.

Flustered, I watched him throw his backpack over his shoulder, towering over me as I was pressed further against the wall behind me. Despite his look of disapproval, he still looked ridiculously pretty today-- Romy Schneider. His hair was styled in a classic heartbreaker look, the green in his eyes fixating on me as he tried to find a reason for my odd behaviour.

"Nothing," I lied. "Trying not to fall asleep. I've been waiting for your class to be done for, like, an hour."

Roman hummed, leaning down to place a quick kiss on the top of my head. "Thanks for waiting. It's nice to see your face," He placed his free hand on the small of my back, leading us to walk down the hallway. "So... There's a movie going down at the cinema tonight, and I think we should go and make out in the back. Thoughts?"

I held back a sickeningly girly giggle-- my heart fluttered uncontrollably, and it was as though all my anger melted away. "Which movie is it?"

"Not sure. Some Serbian silent film from the sixties,"

"Oh... Right up our alley, then,"

Roman's laugh nearly made me blush. Accompanied by the small squeeze of my waist, I allowed myself to keen against his body, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction.

This was my favourite part of the day. Being paraded down the hall for everyone to see. At this moment, I forgot about my sorrows with Letha, and could suddenly feel the pride blooming in my chest as I got a few jealous, scorching stares from a group of girls passing us by. It only got better when I realized they were cheerleaders-- my eyes followed them, narrowing as a rather evil grin spread across my lips.

That'll show them. I was ready to cut off the heads of the next ones that waved at my boyfriend.

I leaned against Roman's touch, feeling his hand resting at my side. Something told me he was putting up a bit of a show to make up for the incident by the football field a few days ago, and honestly? I liked this. I could live with this.

Roman caught up with my little feeling of victory, snickering to himself as he playfully rolled his eyes; "Getting high?"

"Yeah," I breathed, feeling my cheeks get rosy as he stroked his thumb along my skin, caressing me as we continued down the hall. This was certainly a high-- one I had longed for. In a flash of confidence, I obnoxiously turned my head to watch the seething cheerleaders, flashing them a vicious smile. Bitches.

Roman tsked, the signature smirk forming across his lips. He noticed my glee-- "What do you say we give them a show?" he murmured, his green gaze darting back to me, his burning eyes full of dark agenda.

I didn't have time to protest or agree as Roman grabbed my shoulders, leading my back up against the nearby lockers. Oh, everyone would definitely hate us more now-- but I could only smile up at him and bask in the feeling of mutual thrill.

"Are they still looking?" Roman whispered, biting his lip to contain his excitement.

A quick glance-- "Yeah,"

His eyes practically sparkled. "Good," Suddenly, he snaked one hand around my waist as the other rested against my cheek, his thumb hooked under my jaw to tilt my head up-- It was easier to kiss like that, seeing as he was practically taller than a fucking tree. Roman leaned forward, brushing his lips across mine, feeling the coolness of my breath against his skin, contrasted by the warmth of my quick breath through my nose over his cheek. Then, the soft pillow of his mouth pushed against mine, the pressure so adoring it made my blood heat all the way into my fingertips.

Roman had tried to do similar things in public multiple times before we became official, but I had shut him down every time. Before, it would've terrified me out of my mind to do something so bold; to make such a statement in front of the school that I was his, to show I was so dizzyingly into him that I would let him do this to me in public. But here I was-- craving it.

It was a show of power, and of submission and belonging; Roman's lips were deadly soft, but there was a hint of something more fiery, sincere. My hands quickly tangled into his hair, pulling him closer as I savoured both the moment and the taste of his cinnamon cigarettes on his tongue.

Roman's plush lips were slightly parted, moving a little as though he was whispering a question-- it was so painfully sweet.

Sweet.

And I imagined the sight to be a gut punch to the cheerleaders watching us from down the hall. I wondered whether they had ever seen this side of Roman before, felt this side of Roman, or whether he hadn't bothered to act as though they interested him. Everything about it made me smile-- there was a sinister satisfaction in it.

I sighed against the kiss, a soft smile splayed across my lips as Roman pulled away, gently nudging my nose with his before he straightened up. "Could you stop giving me grief now?" he teased, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Everyone knows we're together. No one's gonna try anything after this, I'm not into the cheerleaders, and I'm dying to roll around in your bed after the movie. Maths always fucking drains me."

Giggling, I reached out for his hand. "Why can't we roll around in your bed, for once? I still haven't been to your place,"

Roman shrugged, intertwining our fingers as he lead me away from the locker. "My mom is crazy, and yours isn't. It's easier that way,"

"Oh?" It struck me that he never actually talked about his parents-- "What do you mean?"

Roman remained quiet as he led me out of the main entrance, and we were now walking hand in hand down to where he had parked his car. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it, that he maybe wasn't ready for it. As I spotted his unease, I wrapped my arms around his, clinging to it-- and I was sure he'd have smiled down at me, had the following not happened.

Our steps came to a halt before I could realize why he froze. I glanced up at Roman, about to ask him why he stopped so abruptly until it became glaringly obvious.

Because there she was, leaning against the bonnet of his car-- Letha. Her nervous gaze flickered between the both of us, breaking out into an anxious laugh as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "I thought I would see the two of you here,"

Her perfectly styled blonde hair lay in soft waves over her shoulders, her kind, green eyes piercing me with the softest impact as she searched my face for a reaction other than horror.

I hadn't expected to cling to Roman as hard as I did, but now it felt like I was holding onto him for dear life. My blood ran cold, my whole body freezing over at the sight of her. It was damn awkward meeting her knowing I had ignored all her attempts at reconciliation, and I wanted to crawl up Roman's shirt and hide.

Nonetheless, I planted my feet on the ground and watched as Roman balled his fists, inhaling sharply to contain his disdain; it was clear that he didn't want to see her either. "Letha, I told you not to do this," he said, jaw clenched. "She obviously doesn't want to talk to you."

With small steps, I dared to partly hide my body behind Roman. Free shield, no? This whole meeting had me mortified, wanting the ground to open up and swallow me whole-- I didn't expect my heart to beat so hard, and I prayed it wasn't audible.

Letha cleared her throat, visibly uncomfortable. Her kind exterior started to crack, hardening. "I've just been going insane... I wanted to ask if you've gotten my message?" Her green gaze darted towards me as she asked me the question, and the meeting of our eyes made my grip around Roman tighten. "What message?" he echoed, looking down at me with clear disdain. It felt like his stare was drilling holes into my brain, scanning my inner thoughts to dig out the truth-- I was cornered.

Fuck. "I didn't have time to tell you yet..." This was downright horrifying, and I tried to make myself smaller as I avoided Roman's burning gaze. "She says she just wants to talk, Rome."

Roman groaned, instinctively pulling me further behind him. I was fully sheltered now, and my breath caught in my chest as his next words came out sharper, harsher, as he turned to his cousin; "Letha, she doesn't want to talk to you! What is so hard to understand here?"

Oh, so he was speaking for me now?

Letha groaned, rolling her eyes. "How the fuck am I supposed to know if she's the one avoiding me or if you're telling her to? Come on, Ro!" She stepped away from the car, raising her voice; "Can't you at least step away? She doesn't need you to fucking shield her or speak for her!--"

"You don't know crap about what she needs!" Roman barked, fury burning in his voice. "You threw it all away! Face that you screwed up! And for the first time in my life, I'm needed, and I will shield her as I please!" He glanced back at me, motioning for me to start walking with him to the car.

My breath caught in my throat, not daring to tell him no. Not when he was in this mood, definitely not.

With quick steps, Roman pulled me along with him. "Stop bothering her," he hissed in Letha's face, opening the door to the passenger seat for me. "You've done enough damage. Enough."

I sank into my seat, not meeting Letha's broken gaze as Roman made his way to the driver's seat. I didn't need to see her to know what she looked like right now-- green eyes probably glossed over, her slender arms wrapping around her for comfort.

It only got worse when Letha called my name, her hurt voice making it impossible to avoid her anymore. When I finally turned to her, listening to the sound of the car starting, it almost felt as though I was looking into a mirror. I was sure I looked just like that when Letha abandoned me crying on the bleachers, calling me a whore when I told her about my feelings for Roman before she stormed off. My heart tore into a million pieces, looking into the teary eyes of the girl who used to know me better than anyone else.

Still, did I owe her the kindness of pity? She certainly hadn't shown me any.

I didn't have time to think about it-- Roman quickly drove us out of the school parking lot, groaning as he ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand. I could see that he was still seething, eye twitching as he gripped the steering wheel with a little too much power.

"Such bullshit," Roman cursed-- I hadn't seen him this pissed before. "She has no right to bother you anymore. I fucking told her!"

"She just--" Letha's big, green eyes of sadness haunted me. It made my heart clench, my soul crumble. "She seems really desperate to talk, Rome."

He glanced at me, just for a second, with apparent disdain. "So? I don't get why you're even entertaining the thought of giving her the chance to!" His grip around the wheel only tightened as he turned his gaze back on the road. "But Letha's got quite the nerve to just show up like that... She's begging for you to forgive her so her guilty conscious gets relief, it's damn selfish! It's not about you at all!"

"Why not?" I turned in my seat, feeling my frustration simmer. "Why would it not be about me? Is it so crazy to think she might just want us to be friends again, that I'm someone worth being friends with?"

"That's not-- She doesn't want to be your friend!"

"Then why the hell is she doing all of this?"

"Because Letha obviously doesn't want us to be together, don't be so naive!" Vexed, Roman hit the steering wheel with a loud groan-- it made me jump in my seat. "If you think she's forgiven you for going behind her back, think again! This is her taking revenge on me for all the times I've messed with her friends, okay?"

I didn't want to think about him and Letha's long list of ex-friends; it made me nauseous. I resorted to balling my fists, trying to collect my thoughts. "You didn't even let me hear her out..."

Roman snorted, rolling his eyes as he adjusted the rearview mirror. "You're making it sound like I'm a controlling asshole. May I remind you that you were hiding behind me, holding onto me for dear life?" He turned to me, a sharp look in his green eyes; "And when the fuck were you going to tell me that she texted you?"

Oh... That.

Honestly? I had hoped to get a little more time to think about it. To at least have that opportunity. "I would've told you sooner if you hadn't drooled all over cheerleaders that day," I knew it was a reach, but I didn't know what else to say. As I crossed my arms over my chest, I truly felt how little I had processed that situation. "Appreciating the view, as you said!"

Another groan, along with one more hit against the steering wheel; "They waved at me, it's normal to check who it is when someone waves at you!--"

"I don't give a shit, the thing that matters is that the girl who waved was the one you fucked in March!--"

... Oh no. He didn't need to know that I kept track of that.

"... What?" Roman's angry expression turned confused as his grip loosened around the wheel, quietly trying to process what I had just said.

As soon as those words slipped past my lips, I felt my throat go dry as I pressed my back against the seat. Why would the leather not split apart, swallow me whole, and allow me to avoid the aftermath? I hadn't expected to blurt that out; there was no going back now. "Yeah... And now she's waving at you like she possibly has a chance with you, because maybe you like making her think she still does! How do you think that makes me feel?"

Roman looked like he was two seconds away from ripping the steering wheel off its hinges, eyes wide and burning with fury. "What the fuck are you accusing me of here? And since when have you been keeping up with my sex-life?!"

Sure, I walked right into that one-- I suddenly felt like I had been transported right back into the time I watched Roman from afar. The way I'd watch him throw tater tots at the cheerleaders to catch their attention, the way he'd make me feel small by pulling my hair as he passed me in the halls, and how I had gotten used to the sight of him disappearing upstairs with girls at parties wishing that was me.

It felt like I was that girl again; the one that kept track of everything he did. The one who would compulsively wash my hands if I was introduced to one of his previous flings through Letha. The jealousy, the obsession-- it was all hitting me now. Especially as I turned to watch him, how his lips were angrily pressed shut, confusion visible on his pretty face.

It was too damn overwhelming. I realized my hands were trembling as they reached for the hem of my shirt, anxiously ripping at the seams as always. However, through the storm of feelings coursing through me, I heard Letha's melodious laugh as my memories flooded my mind-- She had been my anchor through it all, despite the fact that she never knew about my feelings for Roman.

No, no, no-- I hated how emotional this made me. "I threw away everything with Letha to be with you, so I'm sorry that I'm paranoid. I don't think you get that she was everything to me. But even despite that, she was my moon and you were... the sun,"

Roman's grip around the steering wheel loosened as his lips parted in uncertainty, brows drawing together as his gaze flickered between me and the road. "You didn't know me back in March," he mumbled, still processing. "That makes no sense--"

"I carved our initials into a tree in March,"

"... Oh,"

My gaze darted back down to my lap, checking out what I had done to my sweater. There were a few loose threads now, that's for sure. I almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it, suddenly remembering how I had gotten so lovesick that I drove my keys into a tree during a walk in the park, carving our initials as tears streamed down my cheeks. It had been a horrible March; I couldn't be more happy that it was over.

Roman nodded to himself, chewing invisible gum--

"Okay... Where?"

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I never expected him to see this. Ever.

I leaned against the tree, watching as Roman traced our initials with a shimmer of fixation in his eyes. The green of the park was a dark contrast to the light green of his orbs, the hazel and blue nuances being the only points placing him perfectly in the scenery. Like this, it was as though I was looking at a painting-- the ones painted by depressed Russian artists before the fall of the Tsars. They always knew how to bring beauty into a world that was only cruel to them.

It was specific, sure, but I had to occupy my mind with something as Roman remained quiet. The wait was nerve-wracking.

Ethereal hues of sunlight shone through the thickness of the trees in the full bloom of summer as I kicked at a nearby chestnut. About half an hour had passed since our argument in the car, and another half hour passed before I finally found the tree in a desolate part of the park. I chewed on my bottom lip, anxiously watching Roman's every reaction.

I expected him to be freaked out. To be disgusted, even. How creepy wasn't this?

However, Roman was painstakingly calm. He ran the pads of his fingers over every cut, every bumpy line-- "This is..."

"Yeah, I know," My arms were crossed over my chest, gaze now resting on the grass nearby. "I never thought you'd like me or that I'd betray Letha like that, so I wanted to... materialize my feelings, if that makes sense? Bottle it up somewhere. Pull a Voldemort."

"A what?"

"Like, horcruxes?" Confused, I got the courage to look at him again. "Roman, have you not seen Harry Potter?"

He shrugged-- "Isn't it, like, for kids?"

"... You used to be a kid too, do you remember that?" Oh, the hypocrisy; "You've been harassing me about not having watched The Godfather for ages, but you haven't even seen?-- Oh, fuck it." It was impossible not to laugh, and I gave into a low chuckle as I pressed my crossed arms tighter to my chest. "Anyway. This tree thing is super creepy, I know, so would you rather I showed you the message from Letha instead?"

Roman finally looked at me, a blank expression on his face. Something told me he didn't want to give away his true feelings regarding the matter. Still, he held out his hand, and I promptly gave him my phone.

Roman knew my password-- that was no issue. He didn't have to ask for it, now staring down at the message from Letha.

I pressed my back against the tree as much as I could, wanting to melt into it and disappear just like earlier in the car. Watching the way Roman's brows drew together in confusion, the flash of annoyance that streaked across his eyes-- it didn't help my anxiety that he didn't say anything, wordlessly handing me my phone back.

I held my breath as I tucked it back into my pocket, waiting for him to say something. However, what he said caught me off-guard;

"The tree thing... It's not that creepy," Roman leaned against it, staring down at me with a nonchalance about him, almost as though he hadn't just read Letha's words of betrayal.

It made me uneasy, but I shrugged; something about the beauty of his eyes calmed me down as I gave in to a soft smile. "You don't have to protect my feelings, Rome, I'm very aware--"

"It's not," Stepping away from the tree, he neared me with careful steps. "I know we've talked about this before, but I'm just a little shocked you felt so... strongly about me. Even during a time when I was pulling your hair. It just doesn't make sense that you'd like me at all, even now."

I sent him a defeated look, leaning my head against the wood behind me. "Why is that so shocking?"

Roman now stood in front of me, and he reached out to place his hands on my waist. "I just don't think anyone ever has in this way," he said. "It's so sweet, it almost makes me nauseous."

I giggled-- "I make you nauseous?"

Roman's next words were said with such a stoic tone, I froze to my spot; "You make me sick,"

Dumbfounded, I let my lips part in shock. It was almost as though his green eyes were filled with pity. "What?--"

"Sick to my stomach,"

Suddenly, I couldn't remember the last time he had blinked. Uhm...? The way we were standing, the way I was pressed up against this tree, gave me the biggest deja vu of my lifetime. This was exactly the same situation as when we played seven minutes in heaven, the very thing that had unraveled everything. I was frozen in fear of his next words, holding my breath.

"Knowing you have the compassion to feel this strongly about me, makes me sick," Roman breathed, his hands kneading my waist with strength that nearly made me wince in pain. "That you've fucked up your life to be with me, makes me sick. And that I'm going to have the worst time letting you go if I must, makes me sick." There was an intensity in him that I hadn't properly seen in him before now-- I wasn't sure whether to be scared or turned on. It only got worse when Roman leaned in, his hot breath against my lips making me shiver; "That I'm ready to go to war with Letha, with family, for you, makes me sick. Knowing I'm ready to rip her head off if she takes you from me... Makes. Me. Sick."

A quiet shiver of air left my body, my shaking hands grabbing at his. "Rome, I--"

"I'll be better for you," Roman's green eyes drilled into mine with desperation, his grip around my waist loosening before he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. "Whatever Letha says about me, the truth as she called it, I need you to not believe it. I'm asking you to kill me, in a sense."

"What?--"

"I want you to make me so sick that I die in your arms," Roman let out a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against mine as his eyes closed shut. "I think it'd make me feel good. I don't want to be so bitter and angry all the time... and I feel good with you. Really good."

Oh.

My heart swelled as I brought my hands up to cup his face, my thumbs stroking over his cheeks as we stood still. There were leaves rustling in the distance, and a sweltering breeze that passed us briefly, but all in all, it was just Roman and I in this deserted area of the park. I could easily agree that it felt good, that it felt right-- just my pretty boyfriend and me.

I got up on my tippytoes, pulling Roman in for a gentle kiss. It made my heart swell, made the tips of my fingers burn as I felt his cold breath against my cheek when he exhaled through his nose.

It was just us, and I needed it to stay that way. We needed it to stay that way, to work as we needed to.

I couldn't let nostalgia kill this. Not for Letha, not for anything in the world. I wasn't sure what it was that she was dying to tell me, why she felt the need to tell me the truth about him as she claimed-- wasn't this his truest form?

Roman's hands pushed against the small of my back, drawing me in as close as humanly possible. The kiss deepened with every breath, with every pull of the other-- "Choose us," he pleaded, mouthing his words into my lips. "Me and you. Us."

His desperation nearly made me burst into flames, similarly to a phoenix; Roman would've gotten that reference if he had seen Harry Potter. It seemed I might actually have to watch The Godfather for him to do so. Still, I sighed softly into the kiss, my hands going into his hair to tug him closer.

I made my decision then and there-- I wasn't going to answer Letha. I could figure out the truth about Roman on my own, thank you very much.

"Me and you," I breathed. "Us."

(AAAAHHH if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading!!<3333 here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 8 if you want to check them out!! THANK YOUUUU!)

(and credits to @august-diehl for the gif!!)

tagging those that seemed interested!!<333:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium

@mil88691 @tloughost @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

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writers-hes · 4 months ago

Text

Growing Pains | c. berzatto x reader

A broken promise between friends hangs heavy in the Chicago air. He was haunted by a loss, seeking refuge in the city he never considered home. She was a wisp of stardust who finds herself back in the city she always considered home. A rent-dispute sets the stage for them to meet again, only to realize that dreams, both realized and abandoned, are so much brighter when you’re younger. (trauma, mentions of alcoholism, sexual harrassment, angst, some bad words…) A/N: This is entirely different from my other fics and I hope that you enjoy it. I really do.

MASTER LISTS TAGLIST “I want to become an artist,” That was what nine year old Carmen Bezatto told you when you asked him what his dream was. He was shy and kept to himself. You were different. You were magnetic and the boys in class all had a crush on you. The teachers loved you and the girls from the higher years doted on you.

“I want to become an actress or a singer,” you confessed, sitting beside him. The crayon that he was holding was blue and he set it down. “What are you drawing?”

“A car,” You peered over his shoulder.

“You’re really good Carmen,”

“Carmy,” he whispered, his heart beating fast. You look at him in confusion. “Call me Carmy,”

“Why do you want to become an artist?” you asked him. You were looking at the drawing of spaghetti and meatballs on his sketchpad. He drew it with a crayon.

“It’s what I’m good at,” he shrugged. “I’m not good with words but I’m good at this. Why do you wanna become an actress?”

“I want people to love me! I want to be so rich and buy my mom everything she needs. I want to star in movies. I can also cry on command. See?” you asked. He watches you clench your eyebrows and wobble your lip. Soon the first tear falls. He’s never been so mesmerized by another person before.

“Carmy,”

“Hm?”

“Let’s promise to achieve our dreams and revisit this place after we’ve done it,” you said, sticking out your pinky for him. He beams at you, the rare smiles he gives and intertwines his pinky with you.

“I promise,”

You two made unlikely friends. Carmy was still on the sidelines when he reached high school while you were still in the spotlight. You joined theater. Carmy was sure there were some who still harbored feelings for you. Who wouldn’t? You were the same magnetic, charismatic, charming girl he knew from childhood. Everyone was so sure that you’re on your path to become an actress.

“Carmy!” He turns around and sees you rushing towards him with a smile on your face. You loop your arm with his and walk to the next class together. “You didn’t wait for me,”

“Sorry,” he chuckles lightly, seeing you pout. “You were just talking to some guys and I didn’t want to just stand there,”

“Sorry,”

“It’s okay,” he looks at you.

“I saw you talking to Claire,” you teased. He told you once that he had a crush on her. “What did you guys talk about?”

“She just asked me about homework,” he says looking away.

“You’re so cute, Carmy!” you gushed, pinching his cheek with your free hand. He blushes harder. He should be used to such remarks by now.

“Let’s just go to class,”

“Wait, hold that pose,” he says. School ended and he found you sleeping at the library. He decided to sit in front of you until you woke up. The sun was already setting and it seeped through the windows of the library.

“Huh?” you asked. You were craning your neck to the side to stretch it.

“Hold that pose. I’m sketching,” You look at the paper and the pencil in front of him. “I’m trying to draw different angles,”

“Alright,” you replied. You stayed like that until Carmy says that it’s alright. You watched him draw more details and add more shadows. “You’re really good…but why do I have a mustache?”

“It’s called hatching,” he chuckled. “But it looks like a mustache,” He erases some shades and shows you his sketch. “I know it’s not good…”

“It’s good!” You snatch the piece of paper from him and hold up the portrait beside you. “See? Looks exactly like me,”

“Your nose is crooked,”

“Carmy!” you pouted. He laughed, his curls falling down his face as he hid his smile from you. Your heart beats fast and you look at him. It was your first time actually taking him in. He is beautiful.

“Let’s go home?” he asked after laughing. He tries to take the drawing from you but you snatch it away.

“This is mine as a punishment for saying that my nose is crooked!” you told him, opening the folder that you were sleeping on. He tries to chase it but you keep it.

“I’ll give you a better one!”

“I like this,” you told him earnestly, keeping the folder in your backpack. “When you’re a really famous artist, I’ll sell it for a really expensive price! From Carmen Anthony Berzatto’s earlier work. Come on, Carmy! Let’s get out of here. You promised to walk me home today,” he heard you say. He stands up from his seat and waits for you. He takes your lunchbox for you as usual. Dede likes to cook your and Carmy’s lunches. She makes him bring your lunchbox home. Carmy thinks that she’s just making sure that you’ll still be his friend.

The walk home was usual, your and Carmy’s lunches on either hands, you trying to catch up on his steps no matter how much he tried to slow down. Carmy walks you home and you thank him, hugging him to the side before leaving. You watch him walk away from your window.

Looking back, you and Carmy had always been close. However, sometime in your senior year, you watched him pull himself away from you. It was quick. It felt like someone plucked a rib from you. It was painful. One day, he just decided not to talk to you as much. He doesn’t wait for you during theater practice anymore and he hasn’t been walking home with you. You’d always be walking home, alone. Carmy wasn’t there anymore.

“Carmy, can we talk?” you asked, running after him when he ignored you again. You look up at him with sad eyes and he just looks away.

“For what?”

“Oh, well—I just…” you stammered. You looked at his sweater instead of his face. “I just wanted to know if everything’s fine?”

“It is,” He shrugs you off like you didn’t matter.

“Oh,”

You nod to yourself, looking away. What else was there to say?

“Um, do you…do you want to walk together?” you asked.

“No,”

Your heart drops and you swallow thickly. He hears you whisper something that he doesn’t remember anymore. All he knew was that he felt like absolute shit. His mom has been drinking more, Mikey was pushing him away, Richie was giving him a hard time, and Sugar locked herself in her room most of the time. He hasn’t been thinking straight and his home environment was just so draining that he forgot to reserve some of his energy for you. You leave without waiting for him to reply. He watches you run away from him. He should’ve ran after you that afternoon.

The day after that, Carmy thought of seeking you out. He wanted to apologize for how he behaved the past couple of days. He wanted to tell you everything but you were nowhere to be seen.

You returned to school a week after that due to a family emergency. He lost his courage by then. The teachers were kind enough to give you extra credit and you aced them all because soon, you were getting acceptance letters from colleges. When you were younger, you and Carmy both agreed to go to the same university that offered the courses you wanted to major in. You both agreed to go to the same college and rent an apartment together. You were just about to knock on the Berzattos’ door to ask Carmy if your plan would still push through. What Dede said broke your heart, though.

“He didn’t tell you? He left for Copenhagen last night. He got a scholarship from Noma!” she excitedly told you. She blows smoke away from you and your face falters. You shook it off though and decided to congratulate Dede. You emailed Carmy that night but he never replied. You remembered during graduation when Carmy’s family asked you to have a picture with him. You both stood awkwardly as Dede, oblivious as ever, clicked on the shutter multiple times. Sugar felt uncomfortable and looked for your mom but she was nowhere to be seen. Mikey and Richie were giggling among themselves as usual. You went home with a defeated sigh. The acceptance letter in your hand was clenched tightly. You remembered how you and Carmy filled up the forms together. He was fussing over every detail while you laughed at him. Where did it all go wrong?

Your hand shook when you sat on your bed. You couldn’t even celebrate the fact that you were going to college—that you were about to pursue your dreams.

The first person that Carmy wanted to talk to after learning about Michael’s death was you.

He didn’t give himself the time to cry over him; just like how he didn’t give himself the time to cry over his mistake of leaving you without saying anything. Mikey always told him that he was weak because he was sensitive and was in tune with his emotions. He didn’t know that he always had to have to guard up at his own home because he was scared of what his mom and brother might do next.

When he arrived in Chicago for the first time in years, his heart dropped. You weren’t there to pick him up. Who was he kidding? He left you to yourself without so much of an explanation. He didn’t even tell you that he changed his dream. Was it a dream? Or did he pursue it out of spite? To show Mikey that he was better than him? He wanted Mikey to look at him with such jealousy…such envy because Mikey didn’t graduate from college. He was a drop out with too many plans and too many failures. Carmy was better than him. Carmy managed to go to Noma without anyone’s help. He wanted Mikey to seethe when he sees him. So why was he in his brother’s failing sandwich shop instead of cooking for the President?

He’s been looking for you for weeks now but he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t ask Richie because he was ashamed. He just wanted to walk home with you again. He was sure that Sugar knew where you were. She was the type to be in touch with everyone but he never brought himself to it.

When he was in a relationship with Claire, you were momentarily put on his back burner. She was beautiful, he knew that. As kids, you’d always find a way to make Claire talk to Carmy.

“Remember Y/N?” Claire asked. Carmy’s back tenses as he prepares to go to what will soon be The Bear. Claire watched him put his white shirt from the bed.

“Hm?”

“I don’t know. She always found a way to make us talk to each other,” she shrugged. “I used to think you guys would end up together…or were together,”

“Why-why would you think that?” Carmy asked, facing her. He furrows his brows like he was so confused. The notion was foreign to him.

“Everybody thought so too. You walked her home everyday and you’d draw her all the time. You guys were so close. Some guys didn’t bother to ask her out because they thought you were together. I didn’t make a move on you because I thought the same,” she swallows. She feels shy about what she just confessed to him. Did he catch it? “Everyone thought you broke up because you suddenly stopped hanging out,”

Carmy stood there, speechless. What was he supposed to say to that? Why did his girlfriend say that?

“But it doesn’t matter anymore,” he hears her. She gets out of bed and walks over to him. She hangs her arms on his shoulder. “We’re together now,”

“Yeah. We are,” he says, kissing her forehead. He didn’t feel how embarrassed Claire felt. He was thinking about something else.

“Should we invite Y/N to the opening?”

His question caused the chaos to stop. Sugar drops the pen that she used on whatever it was she was writing while Richie raises his eyebrows.

“Or not,”

Sugar looks at him quizzically. She looks at Richie next and then, Eibra. They knew you. You frequented the sandwich shop with your mom when you were younger. Carmy brought you here to piss on Michael.

“What?” he asked. “We don’t have to. Fuck—okay, let’s not,” he stammered, his last word was weak. Sydney was confused. “Anyways, I uh—fuck. Let’s take five,”

“What?” Sugar asks. “No, no, no. We have to finalize this list now, Carm.”

“Yeah, I know that. I-I—“

“Even if we were to invite her, I don’t know where she is anymore,” His heart stops beating. He was so sure she knew.

“What?”

“She left for college,” Richie explained. “Seemed like her whole family left with her too. Their house is occupied by a new family now. We’re surprised you didn’t know. She told us that you guys were still in contact when you left,”

It was his turn to be confused. His mind was racing. Were you alright? Where are you now? Do you remember him? Do you still have the drawing he made of you?

“I totally forgot about her,” Richie confessed, chuckling. Carmy looks at him, his eyes turning into slits. His cousin raises his hand in surrender.

“You didn’t bother to ask?” he asks Sugar. “You grew up with her too, right?” He couldn't help but feel resentful. Why didn’t she treasure you like she treasured everyone else?

“Carm, she was your friend,” He runs his hand through his hair. He closes his eyes and counts to three. “Besides, she disappeared without a word…just like you did. As far as I know, she left first and then, her mom did.”

“Let’s take five,” he declares before leaving.

He rummages through his phone and tries to remember his old email address. He really wanted you to be there. He wanted to hear about your dreams and he wanted you to hear about his. He never found the courage to look you up on the internet. He didn’t want to know the hard truth.

His hands tremble as he holds his phone when Claire’s name pops up from the screen. He shouldn’t be worrying about you—he should be worried about Claire. The girl he loves. The girl he’s always dreamed of. Right, Claire. Claire. Claire Dunlop. They met again by the frozen aisle of the store.

“Hey,”

“Carm,” Her voice soothes him. “Just wanted to…check-in. You left feeling kind of not okay? How are you now?”

“I’m good,” he says. “Just remembered Y/N. I wanted to—uh, I wanted to invite her to the opening…if-if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, it is. She was your best friend,”

“I don’t know how to reach her…would you know?” he swallows. He felt like shit for asking about another girl to his girlfriend. “Claire?”

“Hm, let me ask around. I’m sure somebody knows. She kind of fell out of the radar after you left,” she says. Everyone thought you eloped. She kept that part to herself.

“Cool. Thanks. Let me know,” he says. He looks at the time. “I have to go,”

“Alright,” she says. I love you. She kept that too. “See you tonight?”

“I’ll let you know.” He ends the call and sets his phone down. He rummages through the drawers to look for clues you might have left behind. He wanted to look for you. He didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to do so. It’s not like he has any right to. He pauses, looking at a distance. He tries to rack his brain for that stupid email. He rushes out of the office and sees Sugar.

“Do you remember what my old email was?”

The Bear opens and you weren’t there. Sugar can’t remember his old email. Carmy forbade her to look you up. It could have been as easy as that but he didn’t want to. He can feel himself slipping away from Claire the more he busies himself with work. He tries to busy himself with work because he tries to bury the guilt of leaving you behind. Sugar told him that you went to his childhood home the day after he left Chicago. She said she got into the arts school that you both applied to. You were probably on the way to tell him about the news. He feels horrible.

Carmy knew that despite your charm, you were self-destructive. You were both alike that way. You have the tendency to self-isolate whenever you feel upset. One time, Carmy accidentally said something hurtful towards you. You pushed him away. He had to climb to your window and apologize before everything was alright again. When your mother scolded you, you’d lock yourself in your room and stay in the library until it closed so you wouldn’t have to see your mom. When you didn’t get the role that you wanted for a play, you’d distance yourself from everyone until everybody started to miss you.

“You’re the only one who can get me out,” you once told him. You said it in such a teasing manner that he only brushed it off. He didn’t think about it before but it’s all he’s been thinking about now. Would you let him bring you out again?

Claire broke up with him when The Bear opened. He brought all of his anger out to Richie. He was an island. He was alone and was out of touch. He’d go to work, cook, and then leave. He didn’t talk to anyone. He’d just scream his head off until he blows off the steam. This is the dream, right?

He decided to go out and explore today. He had to go to Aurora, a city near Chicago to meet up with a potential supplier. He wanted to introduce a new item to the menu. He let go of the bucatini and other items. Last night, he stood a foot away from the island, looking at the food he just prepared. They were so intricate…they reminded him of you. All the food was reminiscent of your childhood with him. He didn’t know what happened for him to finally feel the gaping hole in his life shaped like you.

He arrives at the spice store hidden from the main road. It was quaint and the shelves were lined with jars of tea and various spices from around the world. Jugs of flavored vinegars were displayed for purchase. When he entered, the aroma of the jars enveloped his nose. He happened to find this spice store on the list of possible suppliers that Sugar prepared before The Bear opened. He felt right at home with the creaky wooden floors and warm lighting.

“Can I help you, sir?” the attendant from the cashier at the corner asked. He walks over to her and studies her corner. A framed paper caught his eye. It was too easy to miss to the unknowing eye but he saw it. The frame was on the very top, almost touching the low ceiling. His entire world stops and he sees it. He sees you. He sees the drawing that you took from him on that afternoon in the library.

“I…,” he swallows. “Do you know the—the artist of…of that portrait?” he asked, pointing at his sketch.

“Oh. I’m not sure, sir but the owner might know,” the attendant replied. Carmy nods.

“I’m actually here for uh, a meeting? I’m the owner of a restaurant in Chicago and I-I…am here to meet for a possible partnership,”

”Oh! Of course,” she nods, looking at the piece of paper the manager gave. “Mr. Berzatto?”

“Yes,”

”The manager will be here soon. May I lead you to the backroom? Would you like some tea?” she asked. She sees him play with a plastic of tea bears. “Tea bears. It’s the first of its kind. It’s a gummy bear that you can dissolve in water for tea. You can also eat it as is. Would you like to try a flavor? I recommend the blueberry and blue pea,”

”Oh, uh—sure,” he nods, following her to the back. Carmy sits down and the attendant leaves. He looks around the room. The walls had awards and other accolades. The attendant arrives with a cup of hot water and some colorful tea bears.

“Just add one to the water and snack on the rest,” she smiles. He picks up a tea bear and studies it. It kind of reminds him of you. He remembers how much you loved tea. He gifted you exotic and expensive teas every time. He knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up but what were the odds? There was only one copy of that drawing in the world and it was supposed to belong to you. The manager arrives just right after he bit on the head of the first bear. Vanilla and raspberry.

”Hello, Mr. Berzatto,” he says. He was a stout man with a kind face. “Sorry for my lateness,”

”I was early,” he says, standing up to shake the other man’s hand.

“Tea bears,” he acknowledges and Carmy smiles a little bit. ”I hope the drive wasn’t too tiring,”

”It wasn’t,” he replied. “I have the documents with me,” He lays the folder on the table with information about The Bear.

“I take it you’re the owner?” he asks Carmy. He nods, and the manager reads over the company profile. He wastes no time asking Carmy about The Bear. Carmy answers them and he’s so tired. He should have made Sugar come here instead. The meeting ends without a fuss.

“Do you have any questions?”

“It’s not really about the spices but the portrait on the counter. I want to have a portrait made,” he says.

“Oh,” the manager looks at the cup of tea that Carmy drank. “I’m not quite sure but I’ll be sure to ask the owner. Bea has a couple of spice samples ready for you outside,”

Carmy stands up and exits the room. He drives home with a brown paper bag and a picture of the portrait that hangs on the wall. It was you. It was you.

He couldn’t sleep that night. The spices for the new menu sits on his kitchen counter, untouched. He thinks about it. What happened? He thought you were an actress. That was what your dream was. He couldn’t help it. The itch that his fingers have makes him reach for his phone. Before he knew it, he was on Google, typing your name.

“Fuck!” he shouts, throwing the phone from across his bed. “Fuck, no, no, no.” He shuts his eyes close and pinches his nose. Why now? The Bear was in shambles. Richie hated him, Claire hated him, he hated himself. Was he only reaching out to you because he knew that he wouldn't feel the hatred?

“There were some problems with the renter of your house in Chicago,” you heard. You looked up from your office table and frowned.

“I thought that house was rented properly?” you asked. It’s been ten years since you went there. Or was it five? You couldn’t keep count anymore. That house was a house of horrors that you’d never want to revisit again. Hell, you never wanted to set foot in Chicago again.

“The renters want to meet up with you. They said that you purposely kept important information from them when you leased the house. They were complaining about the backyard and would not budge until you go there,” he says. You pinched your nose.

“Can’t we look for other interested renters?” you were annoyed. ”Or just give them a refund?”

”Sadly, nobody wants to rent the house anymore because it hasn’t been renovated for years,”

“Fuck,” you sighed. “Alright,”

Your flight to Chicago was long. Your college was quickly spent in New York. You decided not to stay there. You thought of your old house. It could have been sold ten years ago but you didn’t want to. Your uncles and aunts all agreed that if there were no renters, it was going to be sold. You couldn’t defy their demands, they all inherited the house with your mom from their father. You all shared the profits yearly and you didn’t want to sell the house. You couldn’t just leave everything behind entirely.

Stepping back in Chicago was…something. There was a rush of emotions that filled you and as you met up with your driver, you felt weak. You didn’t want to be back here but you had no other choice. You were tied down to that two storey house. You were just hoping that you won’t run into anyone. The plan was to stay here, four days at most and then leave before anyone else sees you. You didn’t want to make up stories in your head again about how you and him kept in contact when you knew that it wasn’t true. It wasn’t true. None of it was. You just wanted to be comforted by the lie that you tried so hard to believe.

The hotel was nice. You were thinking of driving outside of Chicago to check some matters before going to New York. The next morning, you decided to go out for a run and grab coffee. You wondered if your old favorite cafe still opened. It was fairly far from your old home and The Beef. You wondered if people still went there. It wasn’t hip and the food was greasy but their brewed coffee was heaven.

The city has changed a lot since the last time you’ve been here. You don’t remember the streets being this way. Vacant lots turned into buildings and skyscrapers. It was odd. You once knew every nook and cranny of the city but not anymore. That afternoon, when you arrived at your old house, you couldn’t even recognize the street. The old houses were torn to pieces and were built with modern houses. The only houses that remained exactly the same were yours and the Berzattos’. It seemed empty, though. It used to have cars and chaos but it was quiet. As if…it hasn’t been lived in. You paid it no mind and knocked on your old door, revealing the new tenants of the house.

They immediately showed you what their problem was. Fucking grass. You booked a flight and stayed at an expensive hotel for grass. It wasn’t the same as in the pictures. That was their main concern. You stood there, in your backyard, mouth pressed into a thin line in annoyance.

“I see,” you only nodded. “I can arrange landscaping services for you,”

“But that would be expensive. The only reason why we rented this old house is because we wanted to have a garden. Otherwise, we would’ve rented somewhere that’s actually…nicer,” the tenant says. Seeing your souring expression, she added, “This place is nice…homey. I can’t afford landscaping services,”

You only nodded, trying to think of someone who might know a landscaper.

“Can you give me until tomorrow to sort this out?”

“Sure,’

When you arrived at the hotel that night, you thought of the people you knew who had good lawns and backyards. Your agent can’t obviously do shit. You have to fire him soon. All the services in Chicago were way more expensive than you were willing to spend. Who had a good lawn…whose mother always had a manicured garden?

“Fak!”

The man rushes into the kitchen, looking at the ensemble of people gathered where Sydney and Carmy usually stood.

“The light,” Carmy pointed. “It’s doing that thing again,” The light buzzes and blinks, as if Carmy ordered it to do so. He had that ability sometimes. He can make the world move.

“I got it, I got it,” he says, going out and coming back soon with a ladder and his tool box. He listens to the crew made up of Richie, Tina, Sydney, Carmy, and Sugar bicker while he tries to fix it. They always bickered and it stresses him out most of the time. ”Ugh, you guys! Stop screaming at each other!”

They ignored him, Carmy was in a screaming contest with Richie while the others tried to pacify the situation. Their relationship hasn’t gone back to the way it was after the fridge incident.

”We’re closed today, right?” Fak asked, trying to tighten the screw.

“Yes, darling,” he hears Sugar.

“Great because Y/N asked me to come by their old house,” he says. He takes note of the sudden silence and takes it as his permission to continue. “She’s back in town and wanted me to check their lawn because she told me that she remembered how nice Ma’s garden was, remember? Anyways, she wanted me to check and get her a connect with a gardener or a landscaper,”

“Wh-what?” Carmy sputters. “What the fuck are you saying, Fak? Y/N hasn’t been here in-in-in fucking years,”

”Yeah but she’s here,” he shrugs. He climbs down the ladder with a smile on his face. “It’s a good thing I never changed my phone number. She wouldn’t have been able to call me if I did,”

Carmy visibly disintegrates before everyone in the kitchen. He stands there, memories of his abandonment haunting him and his eyes blinking rapidly. You were in town?

”When are you meeting her?”

“Today,”

Fuck. If only he didn’t promise himself to do something today. He needed to focus. He didn’t need you, right?

After treating Fak to a quick dinner, you immediately went home. He sadly told you that he wished you’d visit The Bear. Carmy was here now and he opened the restaurant. He told you that you’ll be welcome anytime as long as you tell him first so he can tell Richie. Richie was the front of house staff now and Fak said that Richie improved, like a lot. He showed you photos of Sugar’s cute baby. He told you that Eibra and Tina still worked there but most surprisingly, he told you that Mikey was dead.

That part shook you. You were never really close with him but he was always nice to you. Carmy idolized him and always sought his approval. It must have been hard for him. Hearing that he didn’t attend the funeral didn’t surprise you, though. You always imagined that Carmy will do some fucked up things if it really came down to it. Years of not knowing what Carment Berzatto became brought both a hollow feeling in your chest and assurance. You never had to know if he was better without you. You chewed on the hangnail on your perfectly manicured finger. Carmy was here again and so were you. Would it be so bad to see him again? Even if it was just a glimpse…would it be so bad to see how he was after all these years?

The night before left you with eyebags. The thought that you and Carmy were here woke you up all night. You didn’t know what to do. Does he know that you’re here too? You tried to cover the bags with a concealer you brought. You were on auto-pilot as you went to the basement to take your rental car. You were going to Aurora today to look over the shop. What was a drive anyway? You were in Aurora every other month for the business that you built when you were younger. It proved to be successful, though.

You arrived at your first business venture, The Alchemist. You were young and full of wonder when you named it. The Alchemist…you used to call your mother that because she made so many things in the kitchen with nothing. It was a way to remember her legacy and other mixes that she made when you were younger. Now, though, you asked chefs and homecooks to make recipes for pre-mixed spices for your business. You always went back to ‘Alchemy No. 1’, a spice blend made and frequently used by your mother when she was still alive.

You entered the store lined with jars of spices and flavored vinegars. The smell of herbs that you sourced from all over the world create an aroma that reminds you of home.

“How is everything?” you asked her.

“Mr. Lee just is about to close a deal with a promising restaurant,”

”He told me about it,” you told Dana. “Sorry if I can’t come here as often as I’d like,”

”That’s alright,” she assures you. You pick a packet of assorted tea bears that you give to the customers to sample and open it. Taking a pink one, you melted the bear in the paper cup with hot water to drink the raspberry and vanilla flavored tea. “Mr. Lee makes the job easier, really,”

”I’m glad,” you told her. “I heard there’s a meeting today?”

”Yes, ma’am,” she replied. “It’s about to start in thirty minutes, actually. Are you planning to join?”

”Yes,” you told her. “I hope they won’t mind,”

You were sitting on the chair in the meeting room when the door opened. Your heart drops for some reason. Your palms sweat and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. You stood up, looked towards the opened door and saw him. Carmy. Carmy was here. He stops his movement—even his breathing and lets go of the door knob. He clutches the folder in his hands and looks at you with wide eyes.

He’s aged. He looked tired and his face matured but his eyes were still as blue as ever, demanding you to open up to him.

You looked older but you looked content. The fine lines that he’s never seen on you before makes you look more beautiful than you’ve ever been.

He opens his mouth first but no words come out. You tried to do the same but you suddenly forgot all of the words that you could say. The pain in your lungs and the quiver in your voice manages to croak out something that snaps him out of his shock.

“Hey,” a wobbly smile graces your features and he steps forward. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back but you didn’t.

He watches your hand tremble and he wonders if he could still hold them like he used to.

You watch him take shaky breaths and remember how you used to soothe his back to stop him.

“I can leave,” you said, looking down. He frowns and licks his lips.

”You don’t have to,”

”No, I’ll—“

”You don’t have to run away,”

”You ran away from me all those years ago,”

Snap. If you could break his bones with your words, you already would have.

”But…” you swallowed thickly. “but it doesn’t matter anymore,” you whispered. You resented yourself for bringing that up. You should be happy that he’s doing fine, right?

“Y/N—“

”Let it go,”

”Please,”

”Carmy,” you finally look at him. You still called him Carmy.

“I have to talk to you,”

”I understand, alright?” you grit. “I—I—“ you breathed in. “I can’t be here,”

”Y/N, please,” you hear him plead. His voice breaks and you do too. Maybe because you always had a soft spot for him. Maybe it was because you realized that you loved him. Maybe it was because you pitied him…either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying what you said next.

“The Peninsula,” you told him. “Under my last name. Tomorrow,”

It was all you said to him before you left him in the meeting room. A few minutes later, Mr. Lee greets him and they close the deal.

Today was Monday, which meant that Carmy had either the morning or after the restaurant closes to come to you. If he comes to The Peninsula after, you might leave thinking that he never cared. If he comes tomorrow, he might not be able to prepare. He thinks that he’s at his best and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to focus if he didn’t go to you. He’ll just fuck things up in the kitchen if he doesn’t go to you. So, at 5:30 a.m., he goes to your hotel and asks for your room number. It seemed like you’ve already informed the receptionist of your arrival and they let him come up.

He knocks the door erratically. You rouse from the bed, alarmed because who would knock at 5:30 a.m.? You couldn’t sleep no matter what you did. With a grip on the remote control of the TV, you peeped into the hole to find Carmy.

“Y/N?” he calls from the outside. You tossed the remote control away and opened the door.

“It’s not even six yet,” were the words you told him as he sees you in the robe. “Carmy?”

“Sorry but—but I,” he draws in a breath. “Sorry I just, I wanted to go here before anything else because…because I know that if I don’t, I’ll be thinking about it and I won’t be able to focus,”

“Come in,”

Carmy steps inside your hotel room and looks around. Fancy. You used to dream about going to a place like this when you were younger. He stands there awkwardly by the foyer and you motion for him to sit down on the couch. He does so and watches you lean on the wall, as far away from him as possible without it being really obvious but it was.

A beat passes with Carmy’s eyes trained on you. You’ve never felt out of touch in his life than now. He watches you with wide eyes while you look everywhere but his face. There were no stains in his shirt and his curls were messier than you remember. You purse your lips and Carmy sighs. Really, Chicago felt so suffocating for the both of you. Being trapped in the small hotel room made it harder to breathe. What could you say? What could he say? The last time you saw each other, you pushed him away. What if you do it again?

“I’m sorry,”

Your head snaps up to look at his face. You frowned.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers, feeling ashamed of everything. Now that you’ve looked at him, he feels like he was under a microscope and he grew to hate the feeling of being studied like that. “I’m so, so, so, fucking sorry,”

He bows his head in shame just as you look away, to the window so he wouldn’t see you wiping your tears. The sun was about to rise and it pains you because you realized that you loved him more when you spent that sunset in the library.

“Why did—“ you stop yourself. “Why did you leave me, Carmy?”

His heart beats fast, his fists clenching on his lap. Why?

”I didn’t deserve that,” you told him. “I didn’t deserve that and you—you just pushed me away. You could’ve at least said goodbye before—before you left the country. Fuck. I spent the past years wondering what I did wrong, Carmy. Do you know how that feels? I followed you like a lost puppy every fucking day and you suddenly decided that you were done with-with-with me. With us,”

He frowns, he doesn’t remember your childhood like that. For him, he was always in the sideways. He was the one who always had to follow you.

“My mom thought that making you lunch was the only way for you to s-stay,” he tells you, looking down. He studies the cuts he earned in the kitchen. “I felt—I felt like that too, you know? Everybody liked you wherever you went and I only…I only had to catch up after you,”

”Carm, you don’t even like people,”

That stings him for some reason and he frowns deeper. He bites his lip and shakes his head. How would you understand? Everybody loved you and he was so hard to love that his brother decided that he was done with him.

“Why did you push me away? Why—“ you choke back a sob. “Why did you leave me?”

The string that you tied around his heart grips it tighter. Memories of you, him, Mikey, that Christmas with his mom, the first time he smoked a cigarette, and the last time he looked at your house comes rushing back to him.

“You know, I started—started smoking when I left,” he chuckled. “It made sense…once I arrived in Copenhagen, the next logical thing was to, uh, buy a pack of cigarettes,” He hopes you understood what he tried to say.

”I’m not your babysitter,”

”I know,” he says. He thinks and you do too. You realized that too much resentment and emotions will get you nowhere.

”Carmy, I know you’re sorry but…but for tonight, can-can we just pretend like you never left?” you asked. He looks at you now, the sunrise illuminating your face differently from that sunset you shared. “Can we..can we pretend like we just lost touch and-and that we’re catching up?”

You look at him sadly, with your mouth downturned slightly. There were so many things to say and emotions to be felt. You couldn’t afford to unpack everything in a day and you were unsure if you wanted him back in your life just yet. You missed him but you didn’t know if you could handle another person leaving you. You’ve had enough people leaving you in this lifetime. Maybe that’s why you were so lonely. Maybe that’s why you don’t have friends and maybe that’s why everyone else seemed to have had enough of you never letting them in. What was the point anyway? Everything’s going to end and love doesn’t last forever. Who would have thought that the two people you loved most can teach you such a harrowing lesson?

Besides, you were unsure if you were ready to let all the love you’ve had for Carmy come to the surface and overflow again. The last time he left, would be the last time he leaves.

“Y/N?” he calls, standing up from the couch to walk towards you. Maybe just for now, this is enough. You smile at him, just like you did when you were younger. Like everything was alright.

“Carmy,” you smile as you let his calloused hands wipe the tears away. “I’m sorry for crying,”

”I’m sorry for making you cry,” he tries to say but his stutter breaks out and he looks down in shame. You reach out to him, your hands clutching the sides of his white shirt. He tries again, this time his voice was much clearer. His head seemed to put everything in his backburner. He has to savor this moment because who knows what will happen? He decided that the last time he left would be the last time he leaves you. A sob threatens to rip his chest but he swallows it down. “How have you been?”

Your arms snake around his waist and you lay your head on his chest. You can hear his heart beating so fast. Does he hear yours too? He takes in your scent. You smell different now.

He caresses the back of your head and kisses it. You take in a sharp breath. He’s never done that before. He tightens his grip around you, afraid to let go.

“Did you achieve your dream?”

You’re both laying down on the bed. The tender moment you shared was interrupted by your alarm. You watch each other now, wondering who breaks the ice first. Carmy’s arms wrap around you while you snuggle closer in his chest, clinging onto every piece of hope left. Your forehead is tucked under his chin and you breathed.

“I became an actress for a while,” you started. The air feels heavy but you decided to push it aside. “but I decided not to continue.”

“Why?”

“I went to college after you—after high school. I stayed there for a semester before…before I dropped out,” you said. “Carmy, they were so much better than me—“

“That’s not true,”

“But it is,” you chuckled sadly. “That wasn’t even the main reason but…but remember mom was sick?” He nods. “Well, she got…she—she got sicker and we had to use the college fund for her treatment,” you said. You don’t try to hide the sniffles. “In the end…in the end, I never went back to college and she didn’t…she didn’t make it,” your voice broke. The images of your mom in her casket never seemed to leave your mind. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “My mom and I—“ You shuddered, remembering the time when your mother had to personally refuse any more care. You knew that she didn’t want you to be in debt. It was hard to spend your college fund but she couldn’t leave you with debt that you’ll pay forever.

”I know,” he says. He couldn’t bear hearing your voice break again. His eyes were red and tears threatened to spill. Fuck. He wasn’t there when you needed him. He knew how close you and your mom were. He couldn’t even say sorry because you both didn’t want to and didn’t know how to address the elephant in the hotel room.

“But then…then, I tried to act,” you chuckled, wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of the white robe. Carmy hears the tiredness in your voice but doesn’t mention it. “I had an audition and I got lucky. I got a recurring role in a hit TV series. I thought I was happy. I thought—I thought that I finally got what I wanted but I felt so alone, Carm. I didn’t have my mom with me…she will never—she will never watch anything that I’ll do but I persisted,” the small circles he drew on your back soothed you. “But then…the producer wanted to meet with me and I—he said that if I removed my clothes, he’ll make me a star,” his grip tightened. ”I removed my shirt and sat in his office half naked. It didn’t bother me. I knew…I knew what I was getting into but he-he wanted more and I had to leave,”

Carmy lets go of the breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

“I was fine with sitting there…like…like I was some fucking object. He could look all he wanted and I didn’t fucking care but he tried—he tried to touch me and I pushed him away,” you cried. He was around your age and was already successful when you came to the picture. He made you trust him. “He had my name blacklisted. I could never…I couldn’t do shit about it. I couldn’t land a job before I realized that maybe…maybe acting wasn’t for me,” you whispered. “I was only there because…he wanted someone to take advantage of,”

You cry in his arms as you share your burden with him. You had nobody to talk to when it happened. You were alone. You were so, so, so alone.

”I opened The Alchemy with the money that I have left and my business grew from there,” you said after calming yourself down. “I have the money but…but I feel so, so, so alone,”

He cooes and you bury yourself deeper in his arms. He mutters things you couldn’t understand. Carmy lets his tears flow as you calm yourself down. How can he tell you all about him if you’re so frail? He didn’t want to burden you any longer.

He doesn’t know how many minutes passed before he heard your breath even itself out. He unwraps his arms around you as carefully as he could. You were fast asleep and didn’t want to wake you. It takes a lot for him to remove himself from the bed that you shared for a few hours but soon, he finds himself wearing his jacket, walking away from the Peninsula. He forgot to count the number of cigarettes he smoked ever since he stepped his foot outside. He forgot to take his heart with him when he left it with you.

He runs a hand through his hair and arrives at the kitchen with profound sadness that his staff has never seen him carry. He locks himself in the office and takes out the notebook he managed to find in his apartment the night before. The email address and the password that he tried so hard to remember glares at him before clicking on ‘Next’. Emails from his childhood pop up but one stands out. Who would have thought that his email address was as easy to remember as combining your names together?

He shakily clicks on your old email address and takes a sharp breath as he reads the last thing you’ve sent him.

Carmy,

I heard from Donna that you’re in Copenhagen now. I hope everything’s fine between us because the last time I tried, you refused to speak to me. I don’t mind. I hope we talk again someday because you’re the only person in the world who I can talk to without hiding anything. I hope you gave me the chance to say this. I was planning on telling you anyway before we enter college. I don’t know why I’m saying this now. Maybe I’m doing this because I’m selfish. I’m hoping that you’d come back or maybe talk to me again if I do. If you don’t reply, I’ll take it as a rejection and try to move on with my life. I’ll be happy for you either way.

I love you, Carmy. I love you so much and I hope that you’re out there, pursuing your dreams. I will always be rooting for you.

I love you.

He throws his phone on the floor. He’s positive that there’s another crack on the screen now. He screams profanities and ignores the urgent knocks that Sugar was making outside his door. His head falls in his hands and he sobs. You were right. If he read the message, he’d book the next flight home.

He only dreams to be loved and to love without anything holding him back but dreams have a way of appearing brighter when you’re younger.

END. A/N: Thank you so much for reading and for waiting for me! I hope this was worth it. I’m really proud of this and as always, don’t forget to reblog / comment / tell me what you think! Love you.

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