#i took a day to figure this one out again

[i2sunric]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 (p.js)

PAIRING: hades!jay x persephone!reader

SUMMARY: labelled as unable of being loved, jay decides to steal a mortal to rule his realm with. what he hasn’t expected, though, is that it wasn’t you who he kidnapped, you had stolen his heart.

WARNINGS: kidnapping, enemies to lovers (but only reader hates jay), greek mythology, mentions of other idols as Gods, kisses. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 22nd December 2024

WC: 3.5k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @who-tf-soddhi (oneshot) @monstaxdirtywonk @love4choso @heechwe

a/n: guess who’s back, back again. lol, i’m so happy with how this turned out! and i sincerely hope y’all like it too 🩷 have some nice holidays!

The gods of Olympus were never silent. Their laughter and taunts echoed across the heavens, filling their golden halls with noise and light.

Among them, Hades — so few knew him as Jay — was the quiet shadow in their midst.

Rarely did he grace their celebrations, his duties below pulling him away from the vanity of their world.

But he wasn't deaf to their jests.

“He'll never know love," Hermes — whose former name was Jungwon — had said to one banquet, leaning onto his caduceus with a smirk.

"Who would want to walk in those dark halls with him?" Aphrodite chimed in, her melodic laughter cutting through the room.

Jay had sat silent, his face impassive, but their words lodged deep within him.

He had never been a creature of longing— his domain demanded stern control, not vulnerability. And yet, as centuries passed, a hollow ache had begun to grow.

Perhaps the others were right. Perhaps he would remain alone. But then, there was the smallest flicker of rebellion within him.

“Let them doubt me," he whispered, his voice cold as the mist of the Styx. "I will find someone who can see me for what I really am."

♡.

Jay seldom visited the mortal world. It was too loud, too bright, too alive.

But something had pulled him there that day, a whisper in the back of his mind, a tenuous tug he could not ignore. And so, he walked among the mortals, his dark robes altered to blend in with their simple garb.

The sun beat above, merciless. Apollo — also known as Heeseung — really enjoyed making mundanes suffer. Mortals bustled around him, their voices a cacophony of trivial concerns.

He had nearly given up, retreating toward the shaded edge of a golden orchard, when his eyes fell on you.

You stood beneath an ancient apple tree, reaching up toward the highest branches.

Your hands grasped the fruit carefully, inspecting each apple before placing it in your basket.

The sun played in your hair, catching the edges of your figure like a halo. But it wasn't your beauty that arrested him; it was the way you moved— with confidence, with purpose.

Suddenly, a strange thought assailed him: You belonged in no one's shadow. It seemed as if not even the apple’s shadow could make you lose your spark.

A step closer he came, and almost faltered. You laughed softly as you took a bite of the sweet fruit, a slice of sound that cut through the din around him. Something in his chest stirred. An unfamiliar pull, sharp and insistent.

Before he knew better, he acted.

The earth had shaken beneath your feet, and you had stood stock-still, startled.

A chill had saturated the air, unnatural and heavy. You turned, your gaze darting around for the source, but the orchard had fallen silent.

Then the earth rent asunder. Shadows poured from it, twisting and coiling like living things. Swimming around you like water would from a waterfall.

Up from the chasm rose a chariot of black iron, its wheels spinning silently above the broken earth. The horses were ghostly, their eyes glowing like dying embers.

Your breath caught in your throat as a figure stepped from the chariot, the bitten apple falling on the ground, rolling. He was cloaked in darkness, his hood obscuring his face, but his presence was overwhelming.

Power radiated from him, pressing down on your chest like a physical weight.

"Who—" Your voice broke, trembling with fear and defiance. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer, only lifted a hand. The shadows surged forward, binding your legs like chains. You cried out, struggling against them, but they held fast.

"Let me go!" you shouted, anger flashing through your terror.

Jay raised a brow; he moved closer, and for the first time, you caught a glimpse of his face beneath the hood.

His features were sharp, almost otherworldly, and his eyes were a cold, unyielding gray.

"I cannot," he whispered, and then before you could reply, he took you into his embrace.

You struggled against him, your fists pounding against his chest, but it was like hitting stone. He stepped back onto the chariot, holding you fast as the horses reared and plunged into the chasm.

The world above disappeared in a swirl of darkness as you lost your senses.

♡.

When you awoke, you were no longer in the orchard.

The air was cool and heavy, carrying a faint metallic tang that sent shivers down your spine.

You sat up slowly, your heart pounding as you took in your surroundings. The chamber was huge, its walls carved from gleaming black stone that seemed to drink in the dim red light emanating from the ceiling.

And there, sat on an obsidian throne on the other end of the room, was him.

He watched you intently— his hood discarded, with pale skin and a face chiseled, striking yet severe. His dark eyes felt to see right through you, and you hated the way your breath caught under his gaze.

Hades. Ruler of the Underworld.

"Why?" you demanded, your voice hoarse. You stood shakily, glaring at him. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I needed a queen," he said simply, as if that explanation was enough.

You laughed bitterly, the sound echoing off the walls. "A queen? You think I'd ever agree to rule this… this pit with you?"

His expression didn't change, though you could have sworn you saw a flicker of something in his eyes-annoyance, perhaps, or amusement.

"You misunderstand," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You don't have a choice."

That struck a nerve. Your hands curled into fists, and despite the fear twisting in your gut, you stepped closer. "No one owns me," you hissed. "Not you, not anyone.”

For the first time, his calm cracked.

He rose with a slow, deliberate movement, and all the weight of his presence came down on you.

"I am Hades," he said, his voice thundering with power. "God of the Underworld, you are here because I chose you, and you will learn to accept that."

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to back down. "And if I don't?"

The silence hung heavy between you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he looked away. "Then you'll remain here as my prisoner. Either way, you belong to me now."

You swallowed hard, anger and fear warring within you. But one thought rose above the rest: You will not let him break you.

With the snap of his fingers, two servants in the form of a skeleton appeared in front of you. They looked at you with their void eyes and then turned around, walking.

You glanced up at Jay, who only beckoned you to follow them.

A scoff escaped your lips as you did just that, anything would be better than staying in the same room as him.

The skeleton's bones made a funny noise as they walked you down the neve -ending hallways. The castle was huge, crimson coated the walls as well as dark black.

“So,” you cleared your throat “Is your boss always like that? Or does he change expressions sometimes?” you tried to joke, but the skeletons didn’t reply.

Of course, they didn’t even have lips, “You can’t tell me anything, uh? Not even where the exit is?”

They just stopped in front of a door, opening it for you. Taking the hint, you slowly stepped inside, cautious.

The chamber was so spacious for only one person, a bed stood in the middle of the room, its sheets a dark shade of red.

The walls were coated with drawings of black dahlias, the ceiling so high it made you think the room never actually ended.

The skeletons closed the door behind your back, leaving you there, alone.

You walked to the bed, sitting on its edge. At least, the mattress was soft, the sheets silk and warm.

You finally allowed a sob to escape your lips, another followed and then another again.

Gods always did what they wanted, never truly considering someone’s feelings. You hated them, but more than anything, you hated Hades.

Your fingers gripped the sheets, if he wanted a wife, you’d show him just what you were made of.

♡.

The tension hung between you like a storm cloud.

Jay had come to visit you when you woke up, followed by a skeleton that placed a trail of pomegranate on your bed.

You didn’t know how much you slept, neither of it was morning or night. The Underworld had no light.

“I hope the chamber is of your likings.” He spoke after an awkward silence. You dared glance at him, but daren’t reply.

Jay let out a soft sigh, “It is the only fruit that grows in my realm, if you want anything in particular, I’ll have one of my servants fetch you something from the orchard in the Olympus.”

Finally, you reached down, picking up the pomegranate. Its scent was sweet, and the faint shimmer of the seeds made them look like tiny jewels.

Usually, you’d go crazy for the bittersweet fruit, but the Underworld made even that look dead, poisonous.

You turned it in your hands as if inspecting it. "And what if I refuse to eat?" you asked, tone sharp.

Jay's lips quirked in what might have been amusement, though it was fleeting. "You won't," he said simply, his voice soft but sure.

Your glare deepened. "How do you know?"

"Because you don't hate life," he said. "Even here, in this place you claim to despise, you'll find a reason to keep going.”

The words struck deeper than you wanted to admit. You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but no words came.

You picked up one of the seeds between your fingers, observing the way the surface shimmered before finally placing it into your mouth.

The flavor burst on your tongue, sweet and tart, and for a moment, you were reminded of the orchards above— the sun on your skin, the breeze in your hair, the simple joy of being free.

Jay watched you in silence, his expression unreadable. When you finally set the pomegranate down, he inclined his head slightly. "I'll leave you to your evening," he said, turning to go.

So, it was evening.

But before he could go, your voice stopped him. "Wait."

He turned back; his eyes were steady but questioning.

"Why do you keep trying?" you asked, quieter now. "Why not just leave me to my misery? Use me just for your plans?” after all, it would be typical of the Gods.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, stepping closer, he spoke in a voice so soft it barely carried across the room, “Because I've spent eternity surrounded by shadows, and for the first time, there's a light here."

His words had left you speechless for a moment. He bowed his head slightly and then left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

♡.

The Underworld had a strange beauty to it, though you’d fought to see it.

The palace gardens, in particular, drew your attention on restless nights— or days. They were like nothing you’d ever encountered in the mortal world.

The flowers glowed faintly, their petals a soft silver-blue, and streams of water that sparkled like liquid starlight wove between them.

It was here, one evening, that you sat on a stone bench, your eyes fixed on the ghostly blooms. You didn't hear Jay approach until he spoke.

"You come here often," he said, his voice quiet.

You startled slightly but didn't turn. "I don't have many options," you replied, your tone still edged with defiance.

You had tried to wander around the castle, and Jay let you, but whenever you came too close to the exit, a puddle of shadows rose from the ground and brought you back to your chamber.

Jay sat beside you, leaving enough space to show he wasn't trying to intrude. He looked out at the garden, his gray eyes contemplative. "These flowers," he said after a moment, "Only grow here, nowhere else in existence."

You glanced at him, surprised by the hint of pride in his voice. "You care about them?"

"They're life in a place where life shouldn't exist," he said simply.

The words hung in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of understanding: the Underworld wasn't just a prison to him— it was a responsibility, a realm he nurtured despite its darkness.

It was the realm given to him by his father, and it was his job to keep it going, no matter how much he despised it.

After a moment, you exhaled, leaning back slightly. "Why do you do that?"

He looked at you, brow furrowed. "Do what?

“Say things that make it hard to hate you,” you said, a faint, reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, perhaps weeks or months. Time seemed to flow slower there.

But you thought it would be easier to hate him, had he been scarier and less gentle. His sharp edges always seemed to soften whenever you walked into the room, and his clothes clung to his form, revealing a body any girl from your village would go crazy about.

Not that you stared at it too much, of course.

To your surprise, Jay’s lips curved into a faint smile of his own. “I thought you’d hate me forever.”

“I’m still considering it,” you shot back, though the teasing note in your voice was unmistakable.

Jay chuckled softly, the sound low and unfamiliar. For the first time, the weight between you seemed to lift, if only slightly.

“Will you ever let me see the light again? The orchard?” or your family. Would your parents be worried, or had Jay already cast a spell on them?

“Depends,” he spoke, “Will you run away if I do.” fair point. The moment the sun kissed your skin again, you were sure you wouldn’t step inside this gloomy castle anymore.

Seeing your lack of reply, Jay just got up and turned around, murmuring “That’s what I thought.”

And for a seconds, you thought you saw something like hurt flicker in his eyes.

♡.

More time passed, and though you had resisted at first, you found yourself softening toward Jay. He had a quiet strength about him, a steady patience that wore down your walls like water against stone.

You spent most of your days in the library. Though your eyes weren’t used to the light anymore, your imagination worked just as fine.

You daydreamed of the life outside the suffocating walls of the Underworld’s castle, you dreamed of someone rescuing you.

And sometimes — but just sometimes — you fantasised about Jay, and his heart made of iron.

One night, as you sat by the fire in the great hall, he joined you, a small bundle wrapped in dark cloth clutched in his hand. "I have something for you," he said; his voice held a rare note of uncertainty. You lifted an eyebrow, curiosity pricked despite yourself. "Another 'gesture'?"

"Of a sort," he said. He unwrapped the bundle, revealing a delicate necklace of silver and black opals.

The stones shimmered like starlight, their glow faint but mesmerizing.

You stared at it, then at him. "Why?"

"It reminded me of you," he said simply. "Strong.. luminous, unyielding."

Your heart skipped a beat, though you fought to keep your expression neutral. "You think flattery will make me forgive you?"

"No," he said, holding the necklace out to you. "But it's the truth."

You hesitated, then reached out to take it. The metal was cool against your skin and for a moment, an odd sense of belonging overtook you, like this place, this moment wasn't entirely foreign.

"Thank you," you said softly and surprised yourself.

Jay's eyes relaxed, and for the first time, you saw not the god who had stolen you but the man beneath— the one who had spent centuries in solitude, yearning for connection.

for someone understanding, someone to love. Perhaps, you could learn to be just that.

You handed the necklace back to him, he looked at it, hurt. He thought you had rejected his gift, but as you turned around and held your hair up, his breath hitched.

“Would you help me put it on?” you questioned, your voice soft, unlike the usual bite it held.

“Of course.” Jay murmured quietly, his touch gentle as he put the jewel around your neck.

It fit perfectly, the dark necklace adorning your once tanned skin.

You smiled. holding it between your fingers, “It’s beautiful.”

He smiled.

Your eyes widened when he took in the sight, he smiled so warmly, and for a moment he even looked human.

“You’re beautiful.” Jay spoke, his voice so soft.

“Hades—“ You said, but he shook his head “Call me Jay.”

You gulped, the room suddenly feeling too hot, “Jay.” you repeated, the name rolling sweetly down your tone.

He let out a soft groan, like it both pained and healed him.

“I know you keep thinking ‘Why me?’” He murmured, caressing your cheek. The first time his skin met yours voluntarily “But for me, it has always been you— from the moment I saw you picking those apples, my heart belonged to you.”

You didn’t even have time to think about it, but your feet went on their tip-toes as you pressed your soft lips on his.

To say he was taken aback was an understatement. His eyes wide as body rigid, and for a moment you thought if maybe, he didn’t love you as much as he claimed.

But then, his hand held your face, the other tangled in your hair as his own lips moved on yours passionately.

Your fingers curled around his shirt, grounding you as uou got lost in the taste of him.

You took the hand that was on your cheek and guided it to rest on your racing heart, “Maybe you have the same effect on me.” You murmured on his lips.

His eyes darkened and he pulled away, “Will you marry me?”

You blinked faintly, your breath hitching at his straight-forwardness.

“Do I have a choice?” He stepped away, his breath still heavy from the kiss, “Yes— yes, I’m giving it to you right now.”

Your brows furrowed, so he added “If you think your future still belongs in the Olympus, then go. The door is actually just around the throne room.”

Jay gulped, hope flickering in his usually gloomy eyes “But if you have some sense of future here, with me, then stay. Stay and let me be your husband.”

You clenched your jaw and looked at the door of the throne room. If you exited it and followed the long hallway, you would be out.

You would see the light, feel the sun tickle your skin, see your family, your friends.

But you weren’t sure that was what you wanted anymore.

Your eyes set again on Jay. His expression had lost hope, like he had already lost.

But you smirked, crossing your arms over your chest “So,” you cleared your throat “When’s the wedding?”

A smile, brother than Apollo’s sun lit up his face as he closed the distance he had put and claimed your lips once more.

“Whenever you want, Y/N.”

♡.

In time, the Underworld became your home. Though the darkness remained, it no longer felt oppressive. The palace, once cold and foreign, now echoed with your laughter. And Jay, once a figure of hate, had become something else entirely.

One day, as you stood by the garden's edge, watching the silver streams flow, he approached you. His steps were quiet, but you felt his presence before you turned.

"You've changed this place," he said, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

You looked at him, a faint smile playing on your lips. "And you've changed me.

He reached out and took your hand in his, holding it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the ring. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with meaning.

Then he bowed his head slightly, his voice a low murmur "Will you teach me how to love you right?”

You looked at him, at the man who had once been your captor but was now so much more.

Slowly, you nodded. "I will."

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 4

(Ep1+2 | Ep3)

Hiii, I'm back at it again <3

I'm not gonna write a proper introduction this time around. You know the drill. Enjoy!

(And if you're new here, feel free to check out my posts on the other episodes linked above first.)

To recap: Last time we saw Style, he had just been left lying on the cold hard ground with a punch to the gut after having hooked up with Fadel in a random storage room. Just like at the end of ep2, at the end of ep3 they did not part on the best of terms either.

Pronoun situation: In my first meta post I kept up with their pronoun use on a scene by scene basis. Just like in ep3, I won't do that in ep4 either because they consistently use the rude guu/mueng pronouns for each other throughout the entire episode without any significant pronoun changes.

No. 1: Blissful Dreams

Even though the hook-up ended rather painfully for Style, and even though the hook-up itself may not have been quite what Style dreamed of, it's still left quite a mark on him. So much so, that he even dreams about it that night. So much so, that this dream even affects him in real life the next morning.

"Crap," Style swears. This wasn't the plan. Style may have a bit of a problem now. And over the course of this episode we'll find out just how much of a problem Style actually has now, because the dream hasn't only affected him physically, but the reality that inspired the dream has also affected him emotionally.

No. 2: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

The majority of the interactions Style has had with Fadel so far have ended with Fadel either forcing Style to leave (even to the point of physically dragging him away) or with Fadel abandoning Style. Even if from Style's perspective it may not seem like his actions have much of a positive effect on Fadel, I think deep down he does sense that he's managing to worm his way into Fadel's life after all. In any case, Style is not giving up no matter how many times Fadel will ditch him. However, since none of the strategies he's tried so far have seemed to really bear fruit, he now changes course again: disappear for a bit, so that he'll miss you. This strategy works exceptionally well, but Style won't know about it until about two thirds into the episode.

No. 3: Blue-Balled

Despite his resolution to stay away from Fadel to make him miss him, Style fails to hold out for long and is back rather sooner than later. As @secriden points out, Style "comes running to Fadel the second he hears about Fadel asking about him" (quoted from @secriden). Style even explicitly says that he hadn't planned on stopping by, but then "some auntie told me someone asked about me". Style has tried out a new strategy that he hasn't gone with before, learned that it actually did have some sort of affect on Fadel, and immediately rushes to confirm this for himself. Within the first 30 seconds (20 seconds, to be exact!) of Style entering the kitchen he asks Fadel twice if Fadel has missed him. It's literally the second and the fifth sentence out of his mouth when he shows up. This is important info to Style, he needs to know if Fadel has missed him and he needs to know immediately. Style has already started to develop positive feelings towards Fadel over the course of episode 3 and their little storage room fling has influenced that development even more. Style needs to know if Fadel feels the same way. In fact, he downright assumes that Fadel feels the same way: it's in the way he is so satisfied and smug when he walks through the door. Style is very happy about this.

Fadel, however, shoots him down. Style's smile fades, but I don't think it's necessarily because he's hurt or disappointed or wasn't expecting this reaction. No, Fadel has reacted like this to about 90% of the things Style has said to him the entire time they've known each other. Style backs up a bit, but the way he looks at Fadel seems curious, like he's searching for something, like there is a question on his mind. Why does he STILL keep insisting like this, why does he STILL go for rejection when evidence points to the opposite?

Reminder: Last time the two of them saw each other, Style was way out of line and Fadel ended up punching him. Style was also quite upset that Fadel would sleep with him and immediately ditch him. In their last meeting, they didn't part on the best of terms.

So Fadel claims he didn't miss Style (despite evidence saying otherwise) and that Style annoys him because he messes up Fadel's routine and Style thinks about it for a moment, contemplates what Fadel's problem could be with him this time that could make him act like that and then comes to a conclusion as to what it might be:

He lets Fadel know that he's not angry at him for what happened the night before. When Style says "I was asking for it", I'm not entirely convinced he's referring to his unserious behavior at the group meeting. I'm not sure he's actually realized that his behavior was disrespectful. After all, he was "rewarded" with sex for it. Plus, the next thing he says is: "[I]t doesn’t matter how scary you are". I think this refers to their confrontation and verbal exchange right around Fadel punching Style. I already touched on Style not being scared of Fadel in my ep 3 meta:

Fadel threatens to punch Style if he doesn't move but Style refuses to stand down even though he knows very well from personally witnessing it that Fadel is perfectly capable of punching him if he wished to. Despite that, Style is not scared of Fadel. [...] When Style says "You like me" I don't think he necessarily means it in the sense of you're in love with me or you're crushing on me. I think he [...] is making it very clear just how confident he is about Fadel not hurting him. [...] It's a counterattack to Fadel's threat.

(Bolded for emphasis)

Style was very fearless the night before, which is why I think when Style says "I was asking for it" he's referring specifically to how Fadel was threatening him and how Style put up a fight in response. He "was asking for it", because he didn't move out of Fadel's way despite Fadel making it very clear what the consequences of Style's stubbornness would be. Fadel got scary in their last meeting, and now Style tells him "[I]t doesn’t matter how scary you are, I’m hooked". While in episode 3 the "I'm not scared of you" was implicit in his actions, Style now tells him explicitly in words.

If you've read my episode 3 meta, you'll know that a running theme throughout the entire post ended up being the question of whether Style really meant all the things he said (esp the flirty things) or if it was all just empty words. Here in the kitchen? Style means every single word, every flirty sentence that he utters. In episode 3, when he bugs Fadel at the running track or when he tells Fadel that he likes and wants him right before they hook up at the end of the episode, there is such an air of loudness to his demeanor. In contrast, when Style tells Fadel "I'm hooked" and asks him what he has to do to win him over, there is much more tranquility to it. Even his voice is calmer, there is no trace of his usual dramatic flair. Style is much more grounded here compared to some of his flirting (attempts) in previous episodes.

Style is being serious when he says "[I]t doesn’t matter how scary you are, I’m hooked", he really means it. But Fadel only looks at him for a moment, squints his eyes briefly, and wordlessly directs his focus back on his herbs, signaling to Style Yeah sure whatever, I don't care, you're a burden and an inconvenience to me. This is yet another very predictable reaction and Style isn't surprised by it, but he's definitely a little annoyed now that he's still not getting through to Fadel, that Fadel still won't admit that he does want Style around and has started taking a liking to him. So Style leans closer to Fadel again and asks what it will take for Style to win him over. Again, Style is being serious about it, his usual over the top flair is missing. He isn't doing this for show, he's not playing anything up because someone else asked him to or because he'll gain something out of it. Style is asking because he genuinely wants to know for no one but himself. Style genuinely cares now.

But Fadel tells Style to fuck off. Not literally, of course (his actual words are "Get out of my face"), but "fuck off" is certainly the subtext of it. And that subtext reaches Style clear as day. Instead of following Fadel's order, he's gonna be a little shit about it now.

"Fuck", you say? Gladly. Malicious compliance with the subtext. Style walks around the table. "I know a guy like you just needs a little nudge."

Again, this time around I do think Style means all the flirty shit that he says. It's in the way his tone is much more calm and quiet and how everything he says is much more deliberate, much more calculated. It's a similar vibe to that time in the gym when he told Fadel to call him any time if he needed a spotter, which, if you've read my first meta post of this series, is a scene you'll know I've determined to be the first time Style genuinely flirts with Fadel for the purpose of flirting and not for any other motivations such as revenge. And now here in the kitchen he's also flirting for the purpose of flirting again. His words aren't just empty words.

Another way we can tell that Style genuinely wants to get into Fadel's pants right there and then is by the way he gets handsy. In episode 3 he doesn't really touch Fadel when he spouts all the sexual innuendos at him at the running track. The only time Style touches him in that scene is when he squeezes Fadel's man boob in order to emphasize the word "heart". Or in the storage room, even though he claims to want Fadel, Style doesn't touch Fadel either during that entire conversation before they get it going. In fact, the only time he touches Fadel before Fadel starts kissing him is to remove Fadel's hand from him. In contrast, the sauna scene in episode 2 showed us that when Style actually, genuinely wants to sleep with Fadel, he'll start touching Fadel in suggestive places, will even go as far as shamelessly stick his hands down Fadel's pants (or, uh, towel in that case). And even though he didn't exactly get handsy with Fadel at the work-out bench, despite my claims of this interaction being the very first time he genuinely flirts with Fadel, well... Style may have not been handsy, but he sure got kneely:

In the kitchen in episode 4 every flirty thing Style says is an attempt at getting into Fadel's pants again (Oh, how very much the storage room fling has left its mark on Style!). Style genuinely wants this, genuinely wants him. Every single one of Style's actions underlines that as well. And then Fadel actually maneuvers him onto the kitchen table. Style is elated.

At this point I want to once again take a little detour to @clemelntine's meta on each of the boys' sexual fantasies of one other and what that means for the storage room hook-up. If you remember, she writes:

No matter how much he annoys Fadel in the day to day and how much he seems to take the upperhand in those interactions, when it comes to sex he likes in the idea of letting Fadel do what he does/wants.

Not only do we see this play out in the storage room in the way Style gladly gives Fadel full control over his body, but we see this pattern continue in the kitchen. Style is very proactive in showing just how much he wants to get into Fadel's pants but the moment Fadel seemingly folds and goes along with it, Style lets Fadel put him on the kitchen table with no resistance whatsoever and eagerly awaits whatever Fadel has in store for him this time, letting Fadel have full control over the situation and his body again.

Whenever Fadel has blocked or rejected or ignored Style in this scene so far, it has not come as a surprise to Style a single time. This is what Fadel does. Style is used to it. It might annoy or disgruntle him at times, but overall he is used to it. But when Fadel drops "You won’t ever get what you want" and leaves him hanging? This time around it hits Style completely out of left field. Style was so caught up in his euphoria, that he didn't see this coming at all (unlike me, the audience, who was just sitting there going "ohh shit oh damn this is gonna be another fake-out" the moment Fadel grabbed Style's waist and turned him towards the table dfjkdf). After all, Fadel did sleep with him the night before, and so Style probably completely forgot that Fadel could dump him at any moment. In fact, he was probably confident that Fadel sleeping with him the night before and now asking about him at the market when Style failed to show up were signs that Fadel had started to develop feelings for him as well. And if Fadel has feelings for him now, then he would likely also want this, so why would Fadel ditch him? But Fadel does. Style is angry and he's hurt and he's disappointed, but Fadel's rejection hits him so much out of nowhere that I think he actually takes a while to process what has just happened and how to feel about it and how to react. Usually in situations like this, Style will put up a fight with Fadel until one of them wins, but this time around he is so stupefied that he immediately moves towards the door when Fadel shoves him towards it without firmly standing his ground and fighting Fadel about it first. Style does yell at Fadel that he won't let Fadel ditch him and when Fadel comes at him again, just for a short moment Style is about to stand his ground, but then Style shoves him away and leaves the kitchen angrily, instead of fighting him.

While I do think Style is hurt by Fadel's actions, I think anger and shock are his leading emotions here as he storms off. I think the hurt only really properly starts coming out and taking over once Style's shock has worn off and he's processed the situation.

No. 4: OnlyFans

The immediate shock of the situation has now worn off, Style has had a little time to process and now he's ready to fight again. There is still so much anger in Style, but now we can also see just how hurt he actually is. This is even more evident when we go back to episodes 1 and 2 where we've seen this whole thing play out before: Fadel humiliates Style in private and Style retaliates by humiliating Fadel in public. Fadel drags Style out of the diner by his feet in the privacy of the closed restaurant. Style yells at him in front of everyone at a busy market place in return. Fadel leaves Style hanging in the privacy of the diner kitchen whose only staff is Fadel himself. Style yells at him in front of every customer at the restaurant in return.

When Fadel drags Style out of the restaurant in episode 1, Style is of course angry and humiliated. And sure, it did hurt his pride, but it's mostly just that. Fadel, at this point, is mostly just some weird, grumpy dude to him that he has now been hired to hit on. Back then Style wasn't expecting that fake-out either, but it doesn't leave him as stunned as it did this time in the kitchen. In episode 1, he even tries to fight Fadel. He can't do much while he's being pulled along the floor, but as soon as Style is back on his feet he immediately starts raging at the door, pulling at the handles and banging at it. In the kitchen, Style is too stunned to put up a fight and actively runs away instead of fighting Fadel.

When Style yells at Fadel in the market place, while it comes from a place of revenge it's still something he does for show. His words are loud and dramatic and they're for everyone around them to hear more than they are for Fadel himself. It's all a public performance to Style. And the audience is everyone at the market. It's about making everyone see how "bad" of a guy Fadel is and it doesn't really matter whether Fadel is listening to his words or not as long as his words reach his true audience and they believe him. Style is clearly having fun yelling at Fadel while also using the chance to blow off some steam from his previous annoyances with Fadel. When Fadel yields, Style immediately lets it go and chills again.

When Style yells at Fadel at the diner, he's once again causing a scene in public, but this time his words are for Fadel to hear, not for the strangers around them. The fact that there's strangers around them is just a welcome bonus and I think in that moment Style doesn't even really care if any of them are actually listening in or not, as long as his words reach Fadel. Style's voice is sharp as a knife, sharper than we've ever heard it before, and every sentence he utters is a stab at Fadel. When Fadel hands him the apron and tells him to leave, Style agrees, but he speaks out a warning first ("But just keep in mind: Nobody gets to nail and bail me."). His fighting spirit has come back, and when Fadel launches a counterattack ("I’ll be the first"), Style does not back down this time around like he did earlier in the kitchen. It's Fadel who walks away this time and Style reminds him that he'll continue to fight him ("A guy like Style won’t back down"). It's only when he walks out of the restaurant that he turns his argument with Fadel into an actual public performance. It's only when he invites everyone at the restaurant to take pictures of him that his words are for show and for his audience to hear.

We've just watched a situation that we've seen before play out but this time around it's very different. Because this time around Fadel actually means something to Style. And this time around Style has already slept with Fadel, which also meant something to him. I'm not entirely sure Style has quite figured out what exactly it all means to him and I also don't think he's head over heels in love with Fadel yet, but he sure is starting to have many emotions. While Style was also enraged back in episode 1 after Fadel dragged him out of the diner, his anger has leveled up now because this time around, underneath all of that anger, Style is also very hurt. They were starting to make progress and Style even got to celebrate small victories along the way (Fadel making him a burger, Fadel actually sleeping with him, Fadel asking about his whereabouts). Style was starting to get somewhere with Fadel, was slowly starting to develop some feelings of his own for Fadel, and Fadel just goes and kicks down Style's sandcastle. What's more, Style has made it very clear to Fadel how he feels about getting nailed and bailed, and then Fadel just goes and does it on purpose.

Style is so angry and hurt that this time around just one public yelling isn't enough. This time he goes for a round 2.

No. 5: A Ruined Man

Style is back at the support group. This time it's not to find out more about Fadel's backstory, this time he is here because he has a message for Fadel. And this time Style's distress isn't cringe, because this time the situation is serious to him. He is seriously angry, and he is seriously hurt, and it's important to him that Fadel is fully aware of it, aware of what he's done to Style.

"When you like someone, and they only think of you as a toy, something they can break, they don’t even know how deep they have cut you."

Oh, Style. I hope you don't end up eating your own words later when Fadel finds out why exactly you were hitting on him and trying to get him to fall for you in the first place.

No. 6: Are These Systoms of Being Pregarnt?

This time Fadel is so done with Style that he drags him away in front of everyone else instead of waiting until no one is around. And Style is finally able to have somewhat of a civil conversation with Fadel again. While he is still angry at Fadel since they still haven't cleared up their quarrel, he is no longer outright yelling at him or attacking Fadel with his words like he was at the diner or in the group meeting just now. The tone of his voice is softer and also his dramatic flair is back when he goes on and on about how he might as well be pregnant. And we also learn what exactly it is that Style wants from Fadel: "You slept with me, so take responsibility for it."

I've already talked at length about why I think Style isn't one for casual, no strings attached one-night stands in my ep3 meta, and Style's words here highlight this once again. The storage room sex mattered to Style. And I don't think it mattered to him because it was a step closer to fulfilling the mission he's been sent on and a step closer to getting the car of his dreams.

If you read my ep3 meta, you'll know that I mention a couple of times that Style is developing "positive feelings" for Fadel. Phrasing it like this rather than phrasing it as "romantic feelings" or "starting to like" was a very deliberate decision. Because I don't think Style was quite there yet in episode 3. He still had many other ulterior motivations and intentions going on, be it Kant's "hit on Fadel so I can get to Bison" mission that Style gets a car out of or Style being nosy about Fadel's lore. If you remember, at the beginning of this meta when Style woke up with a boner I said Style may have a bit of a problem now. The problem is his own feelings – this whole episode hasn't been about Kant's mission or the car anymore (or about Style finding out Fadel's backstory). Instead, this whole episode we've been exploring Style's real feelings, his own desires. Style has started to care when it comes to Fadel, has started to genuinely want him. Style is starting to genuinely like Fadel now. He even lets it slip during the support group meeting:

"When you like someone, and they only think of you as a toy, something they can break, they don’t even know how deep they have cut you."

And yes, one could argue that he's been saying he likes Fadel ever since Kant set him on Fadel and that Style, in fact, has said he likes Fadel many, many times before, so this is nothing out of the ordinary. But I think this time it is in fact different. I think this time he means it. Because if it was just a lie, if those were just empty words, then Fadel dumping him in the kitchen wouldn't have hurt so much. And at this point, I think Style's hurt isn't only about being dumped in the kitchen but also about being ditched in the storage room. Style may have said he won't hold what happened back then against Fadel, but maybe deep down he does. Because the storage room sex mattered to him and at this point of the episode maybe it matters to him even more so than at the beginning of the episode or at the end of episode 3. Not to mentioned, he really doesn't like getting nailed and bailed. You slept with me, so take responsibility for it.

No. 7: I Hate the Way I Don't Hate You. Not Even a Little Bit. Not Even at All.

"You're not killing me or anything like that, right?" Style says as they're walking out of their last scene and Fadel promptly takes him out to the woods into an abandoned greenhouse. They still haven't cleared anything up between the two of them and Style is still kinda angry, which is why I think that when he says "Are we doing it outdoors? Your taste sure surprises me" he says it mostly to piss Fadel off, not because he wants to flirt or actually do it with him in that moment (oh but just you wait another few minutes 🤭🤭🤭).

Fadel once again just wordlessly walks away from Style. Instead of following him, Style stays back at the car, kinda annoyed. We don't know how long exactly Style was waiting, but either way, I think he does lowkey start to get freaked out a little. He wants to go home and starts looking for Fadel.

"I know you’re gonna kill me and hide my body in the woods." Oh Style, sweetie, no. Careful with your words. Apollo's ball of prophecy and all that. Right after that, we get yet another reference to Style not being scared of Fadel. When he enters the greenhouse, searching for Fadel while monologuing, he shouts:

But I ain't scared of you!

Fun fact, in Thai he actually phrases it as "You think I'm scared of you?":

มึงคิดว่ากูกลัวมึงหรอ [mueng - kít wâa - guu - gluua - mueng - rŏr] you - think that - I - scared (of) - you - [question word]

It is night-time, Style walks along dark aisles in search of Fadel who ran away from him and is currently nowhere to be seen, when suddenly, out of nowhere Fadel appears, shoves him into some furniture (ish) and angrily yells into his face: "Who sent you?" Oh, wait, wrong episode.

User @secriden wrote an excellent post detailing the parallels between the ep3 storage room scene and the ep4 forest scene, but I actually think that the beginning of the scene is much closer to a different scene that we saw in episode 2: the locker room scene. It's interesting because this is the third time this episode calls back to the first two episodes. It starts with the parallel of Fadel's fake-out, then we had the parallel of Style publicly humiliating Fadel, and now we have a call-back to the locker room scene, which will soon turn into a parallel of the storage room hook-up. The parallels do be paralleling this episode.

In the locker room, it was Style who dropped a "love confession": "I like you. I liked you the moment I crashed into you that night. It was love at first sight. So damn romantic. Straight out of a movie." But now in the greenhouse it's Fadel's turn. Fadel ambushes Style, shoves him against the bars and starts raging. Fadel has yelled at Style a lot over the past few episodes. He yells at Style to reprimand him, to shoot down his advances, or to tell him to piss off. When Fadel yells at Style, it's all about his feelings of disdain he has for Style. So when Fadel says "I don’t like you messing up my life. My life has been planned out. You’re disrupting it," Style sighs a little and braces himself for yet another fight against Fadel:

But then Fadel goes off-script. "I don’t like myself when I look for you on the morning jog or at the market. I don’t like waiting to see if you’d show up at my restaurant or my go-to club. You— I don’t like you being in my life and changing it."

This is a new one. Style listens intently.

Fadel continues. "I don’t like feeling like this." Style has all his focus entirely on Fadel and his words now. He squeezes his eyes just the tiniest bit. And I think this is where Style starts to figure out the core of Fadel's problem.

"I don’t like it!", Fadel yells and Style looks at him with so much resolution and with so much understanding.

And then Fadel drops: "I don’t like that I miss you."

Fun fact about the word คิดถึง [kít-tĕung]: apart from "to miss", it can also have the meaning of "to think of, to think about". So another possible interpretation and underlying meaning of this line is "I don't like that I think about you."

Something vital that I want to bring up at this point now is something that @secriden has pointed out in her meta:

It's incredibly important that Style waited at this point. Style, who talks endlessly and without thought. Style, who demands that his story and his thoughts are aired first. Style, who has been telling Fadel this lie time and time again before Fadel’s feelings made it true... Stops. Waits. Stays silent. Because Fadel had to get there himself or not at all.

And get there, Fadel did. Fadel has just spilled that he thinks about Style, that he misses him. That Style's efforts have been worth it. That Fadel has started caring the way Style has started to care. Style looks at Fadel, takes it all in.

Style finally understands Fadel's problem, finally understands why Fadel has been acting the way he's been acting.

When Style kisses Fadel, there is so much purpose, so much intent to it. Style has something to say, something important, and every single thing on his mind, every single emotion, he puts it all into that kiss. And what he has to say is:

Yes. The caption in the gif is different from the official English subtitles. Because Style literally says:

มันโอเค​นะเว้ย ที่จะมีความรักอ่ะ [man - oh-keh - ná wóiie • thêe - jà - mee kwaam rák - àh] it - okay - [particle] • that - will - be in love - [particle]

And this is a distinction that is important to me personally. Phrasing it as "It's okay to be in love" is by far more specific than "It's okay to love" and I think this particular word choice hits Fadel harder as well. Fadel likes control, he likes knowing exactly what's going on at any given moment. But then Style shows up as a whirlwind in his life, bringing disorder to everything. Fadel is starting to develop feelings that he can't control and it freaks him out.

When Style kissed Fadel in the locker room it was an attack in the battle he was fighting against him. When Style kisses Fadel in the greenhouse, it's for reassurance. Style puts everything he wants to say with "It's okay to be in love" into that line. It's okay to let go. It's okay to let things take their natural course. It's okay to be in love. You're allowed to have feelings. It's not a bad thing. It's okay. It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay.

And with this we go into the parallels to the storage room scene. If you remember my ep3 meta, then you'll remember how I said that Style didn't really mean it at the time when he said he wanted Fadel right before they hook up. This time he didn't say a single word about it, but his actions show that he does want Fadel this time. Once again I'm gonna steal a thought from @clemelntine's meta:

[Style] isn't entirely giving in/passive in the situation, though. He still has a hands on Fadel holding him close/in place, and does seem to want to touch him. No matter how much he wants Fadel to service him, he isn't gonna let him do it all on his own. He too wants to explore Fadel as well.

We can really see that this time around. Unlike in the storage room, Style has his hands all over the place: on Fadel's throat, underneath Fadel's shirt, in Fadel's pants, pulling Fadel closer with his arm around Fadel's neck. What's more, there's significantly more eye contact. Fadel actually looks Style in the eye now. It's still not as much and as intense as in Style's fantasy, because they're still not quite there yet emotionally, but it's a start. They've both started to develop some actual feelings, and this time around they're also both aware of it. Of their own feelings as well as the other's feelings. Where last time they were acting purely on physical attraction, they're much more emotionally involved this time around. Emotionally they're much more on the same page this time around. And it's beautiful.

Also, I haven't seen anyone talk about this yet, but we are all aware that they show us pretty much the entire act from start to, uhhh well, finish, right? Right?? 🫣

No. 8: Be My Boyfriend

Not for the first time Style says he wants Fadel as a boyfriend. Unlike the other times though, Style actually means it this time around. His words are no longer for show, no longer a performance that will be rewarded with Kant's gratitude and his car. Style is being 100% serious about being Fadel's boyfriend. The car is more of an afterthought (and one that he will get to, because a deal is a deal, and he's been in love with the car much longer than he's had any positive feelings for Fadel for, but still. Right there in the woods, I think the car isn't really on his mind at the time).

Style means every flirty thing he says. He means it when he says "You’re mysterious and alluring. You’re quiet, but sexy as hell". If you remember, during the kitchen scene I mentioned that Style wasn't as loud in the flirty things he said, and we can really see that in the aforementioned line and also when he says "[Having a boyfriend is] great. You have someone to embrace, to love, and to…" These lines are much less loud and less performative than compared to everything that came out of his mouth in ep3 on the sports field.

By the way, I need you all to know that this exchange:

F: I’ll stick with jerking off. S: I’m sure.

Actually goes:

F: I can jerk off by myself. กูชักว่าวอยู่เองได้ [guu - chák wâao - yùu - eng - dâai] I - masturbate - be - (by) oneself/myself - be able to S: I know you can do it yourself. รู้ว่ามึงทำเองได้ [rúu wâa - mueng - tam - eng - dâai] know that - you - do - (by) oneself/yourself - be able to

And where did we get a similar exchange before? That's right. In that very scene at the sports field that I just mentioned:

F: If you want it that much, then go jerk off. ถ้าอยากมากเนี่ยก็ไปชักว่าวไป [tâa - yàak - mâak - nîia - gôr - bpai - chák wâao - bpai] if - want - much - [particle] - then - go - masturbate - go S: I know it can be done alone. รู้มันทำคนเดียวได้ [rúu - man - tam - kon diiao - dâai] know - it - do - alone - be able to

The words they say are similar, and yet these two exchanges are very different from one another. Just like in the kitchen, Style's flirting in the woods is much more grounded. It's not the same performance as it was in episode 3. And just as I said in my ep3 meta, it's when Style is being genuine that he actually reaches Fadel, not when he's putting up a show:

The inauthenticity in [Style's] insistent approach is what makes him annoying in those scenes [the running track and the market]. And it's also not what works on Fadel – it's when Style is being genuine that he actually reaches Fadel, like when he was helping him wait tables (which Fadel recognizes by rewarding him with a burger) or when Style was being playfully flirty in the sauna (which results in Fadel fantasizing about him at night).

What's interesting, though, that even though this is the very first time Fadel actually engages in Style's friendly banter and amiable conversation instead of ignoring him or yelling at him or telling him to piss off, at the beginning of the conversation Style doesn't have Fadel quite just yet. Actually, no. That's not accurate. Style is being genuine, has been genuine all episode already and so he does reach Fadel in the beginning of their conversation. Fadel is finally engaging, is finally getting involved. But then Style loses him again at a certain point. And it's specifically when he says:

But isn't it better to have someone like me with you?

Up until this very point, Fadel was mostly turned towards Style. He's smiled, he's laughed, he's rolled his eyes in amusement and he's actively taken part in Style's conversation. He's been more open with Style than he's ever been before. But now? He stares at Style for a moment, then turns away from him, closing himself off from Style again.

And it's interesting that this is happening at this specific point, because their entire conversation has mostly surrounded sex (adjacent) things and physical attraction. They literally start this conversation referencing their hook-up from right before, Style calls Fadel sexy, and then alludes that he wants to sleep with him again. And I think by the time Style says "I know you can [jerk off] by yourself. But isn’t it better to have someone like me with you?" Fadel is at a point where he's like Oh, so you only want to be my boyfriend just so you can do me again, huh? So this is all I am to you, huh?

Fadel isn't cool with that and so he starts to shut himself off from Style again. Style is rejected again. Style turns his head away from Fadel, sighs, raises his eyebrows, and I think he realizes (at least subconsciously) what Fadel is unhappy about, because the next thing he says the moment he's turned back to Fadel is:

What you said to me just now... I feel the same way.

And again, he's being sincere. His voice is calm and grounded, there's not a single trace of his dramatic antics. And that line and coupled with that sincerity has Fadel listening up again:

"Be my boyfriend," Style says and Fadel listens even more closely. "Give me a chance," Style says and Fadel looks away, laughs, and replies "You don’t even know me". Fadel's words are a challenge, but this time there is no malice, no anger, no annoyance in his voice. His voice is soft. Fadel poses a challenge, but it's not an invitation to fight. Or rather, it is an invitation to fight, but it's a very different fight from before. And Style is only happy to take up said challenge: "And what about it? I’ll learn more about you when you’re my boyfriend."

And for what he says next, I'd love to share a more literal translation with you again. In the English subs Style talks about being 100% in and it being Fadel's turn to let him in, which, yeah, it's the gist of it. However, in Thai he uses the word เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai] again, which I've already talked about in my ep3 meta because Style has used that word before during that scene where Fadel hands him the burger. The day after posting that meta, I actually asked my Thai teacher about this word in class (and nearly died in the process) because I hadn't discussed this word with a native speaker for my meta and while I had discussed this word with my Thai language learning buddy after he brought it up when I was trying to explain the German phrase "sich einlassen auf" (@ German speakers: เปิดใจ is very similar to that!), I just couldn't remember it well and wanted to double check just in case. According to my teacher, it's a word that is used to talk about opening up to something or about giving things a chance, but the literal translation is "to open one's heart" (เปิด [bpèrt] = to open / ใจ [jai] = heart, mind) and I think the series makes use of that literal meaning for a nice metaphor/image here. I think Style's choice of words is very deliberate:

I've opened my heart to you 100% already. กูเปิดใจให้มึงร้อยเปอร์เซนต์แล้วนะ [guu - bpèrt-jai - hâi - mueng - rói - bper-sen - láew - ná] I - open up (one's heart) - for, to - you - 100 - percent - already - [particle]

Only you remain. เหลือแค่มึงอ่ะ [lĕuua - kâe - mueng - àh] remain, left - only - you - [particle]

How much will you open your heart to me? จะเปิดใจให้กูมากแค่ไหน [jà - bpèrt-jai - hâi - guu - mâak kâe năi] will - open up (one's heart) - to, for - I/me - how much

Fadel, who has enclosed his heart in thick, high walls, is being asked how many doors leading up to it he is willing to open. Style subtly reminds Fadel that a relationship consists of two people, but leaves the decision of just how close Fadel will let Style get to his heart entirely up to Fadel. Because that's Fadel's choice to make.

While Style is talking, Fadel is listening intently, really taking in Style's words and contemplating them:

He's quiet for a moment after Style is done telling him You have full access to my heart now. I'm willing to give you a chance. I've done my part. The choice is on you now. Will you grant me access to your heart, too? Will you give me a chance as well?

Fadel thinks about it for a bit more, then laughs a small laugh, throws his head back, and goes "Yeah. Fine." Style is confused. Fadel then explicitly agrees to be his boyfriend. Style's eyes widen. He can't believe his ears. He has to ask for confirmation, has to make sure he really heard it right:

We're boyfriends, right? เป��นแฟนกันใช่มั้ย [bpen - faen - gan - châi mái] be - boyfriend, girlfriend - each other, together - right?

Fadel confirms. Style is absolutely over the moon and showers Fadel in kisses.

Do I think they're already in love? Not exactly. Unfortunately, I just don't have the time to look at Fadel as closely as I have been looking at Style (I need 48h days fr 😭😭) but when it comes to Style, I think even if he's not in love just yet, this is the start of something real. We saw in episode 3 that he was starting to develop positive feelings towards Fadel, was starting to genuinely have a good time hanging around Fadel, but he still had ulterior motives in the foreground of his mind. I think when he hooked up with Fadel in the storage room that kicked off something within him because, as I've made very clear in my ep3 meta, to Style sex isn't just sex. Because if it was, his journey this episode would have been going very differently. But throughout this entire episode Style has cared, he has cared so much to the point he's gotten really hurt. And his joy when Fadel agrees to be his boyfriend? That's real. And I don't think it's because he's about to receive the car of his dreams as a reward. If it was, I think Style would have been much more smug about Fadel agreeing to be his boyfriend, would have been much more self-satisfied underneath all that happiness. But Style's joy here is pure. And he doesn't brag about finally "winning" Fadel over, doesn't hold it over his head in a smug HAH, you gave in to me, I'm the one who won our battle of wills, look how cool I am sort of way. Style's joy is real, but what he's feeling is not quite love at this point. But so what if they're not in love just yet? Like Style said: They can get to know each other fall in love when they're boyfriends.

No. 8: Apollo's Ball Of Prophecy Is Real

Remember how a couple of paragraphs ago I said the car was just an afterthought, that Style would still get to? Well, he's getting to it now. He shows up at Kant's place and "When should I come and get your car?" is the first thing out of his mouth right after his hellos. Kant reminds Style of their deal and asks if Fadel has agreed to be Style's boyfriend. Style says "yes", shining brightly as the sun as he says this. And the way he shines while dropping this info to Kant makes me once again think that his happiness here is more focused on Fadel rather than the car. Style is a little smug now, but it's mostly before Kant mentions the words "Fadel" and "faen" together in one single sentence (yes, I had to go with the Thai word for boyfriend just for the alliteration lol). When Style says yes, Fadel is in fact his boyfriend now, the subtext I'm hearing is not something along the lines of Yeah, I finally got him, so where's my beloved car at, bro, we had a deal???? but what I'm hearing is more like Yes!! He is!! Can you believe!! Fadel is my BOYFRIEND!! Omg!! I did it!! Just like we'll see in the flashback to the "be my boyfriend" scene right after, there is something rather pure about Style's complete and utter joy at the thought of Fadel being his boyfriend.

Style relays the "be my boyfriend" conversation to Kant and it's only after that that Style really starts bragging: "Your best friend is a genius, isn’t he? I told you I can get anyone." And yeah, undeniably this is about the fact that he's getting a car out of it, but I also think that he would have bragged about it even if the deal with the car didn't exist. Kant and Style seem to have the sort of friendship where they always brag to each other about their love lives. We were shown this in episode 1 when Kant goes to see Style at the garage and Style immediately asks for the tea on his night with Bison, pretty much begging Kant to brag about it when Kant tries to change the topic to something else. Style would have bragged about Fadel to Kant no matter what. Besides, why wouldn't he go get the car, despite actual feelings being involved now? A deal is a deal, and if he can get the car of his dreams and the boyfriend of his dreams out of it, that's even better. Best of both worlds. Who wouldn't say no to that?

But Style's happiness gets smacked right out of him via Apollo's ball of prophecy as he learns that he should really be very careful what he jokes about. He almost spoke Fadel taking him out to the woods to kill him into existence. Fadel is a hitman. Style's panic gets the better of him. He has seen, felt on his own body even what Fadel is capable of. He doesn't like Fadel that much yet, so he's outta there before he gets to experience first hand the real depths of what Fadel can be capable of if Style gets too annoying. Car be damned. Style may be unhinged but he isn't suicidal.

Kant, however, manages to talk Style into helping him and staying with Fadel anyway. Now, you could say Style is unhinged for agreeing to help Kant instead of firmly refusing his request and getting out of this mess before it gets worse, but I think in that moment Style is genuinely afraid that Fadel WILL kill him if Style breaks up with him, breaks his heart right after Fadel has finally, finally given him closer access to it. And Style has had to work very hard for said access, so he knows very well how big that decision was for Fadel to entrust Style with just a little bit of his heart. And if Style then goes and breaks that little bit of Fadel's heart that he was given in the very next moment? That's a death sentence on Style's head right there.

And another reason why I think Style agrees to continue working for Kant's mission is that Style likes to help. I've already touched on this in my ep3 meta:

Style likes to help. We see this in the way he agrees to help his best friend by hitting on some weirdo guy (yes, of course he's also getting a car out of this deal, but I think part of the reason why he agrees to the deal is also because he genuinely wants to help Kant find love), we see this in the way he immediately takes orders from customers no questions asked in episode 2 right before he meets Bison, and we'll see this even later this episode [ep3] when he throws himself into the fight despite having no fighting skills whatsoever, just because he thinks three against one is unfair and wants to help.

Helping people is something that comes easy to Style, something he doesn't really have to think about, and so when Kant practically begs him to help Style can't do anything but agree to help Kant because not helping would go entirely against the nature of his character. Also, who could resist First's puppy eyes? Valid, absolutely valid. I, too, would fold like thin paper if First looked at me like That.

No. 9: Over Your Limit

Style is at the gym, probably in an attempt to work off some of the overwhelming emotions that Kant's reveal has left him with. What's interesting is, as @secriden noted, that Style decided to go there during daytime. From episode 2, both we, the audience, as well as Style know that Fadel likes to go to the gym at night specifically to avoid crowds. It's probably safe to assume that Style went there during the day specifically in order to avoid Fadel.

So Style sits there, lost in his memories, recontextualizing everything that happened at the greenhouse, processing Kant's news, rethinking his decision. Unfortunately for him, he's already made his choice the moment he agreed to help Kant, and so in the end Style goes Fuck it, I'm doing this.

Unexpectedly, Fadel shows up. Style hadn't been mentally prepared for that and despite his fuck it attitude just mere seconds ago (17, to be exact), his instincts kick in and he panics. Everything within him is screaming at him get away from this man, your life is in danger and so Style immediately rejects Fadel's offer for help: "I can’t do it anyway. I was pushing my limits."

Style is pushing his limits. Hitting on a guy? Sure, that's fine. Making him his boyfriend, despite said guy having walls as thick as the Great Wall of China? A little challenge, but nothing Style can't handle. But dating someone who is a professional killer, someone who is capable of taking lives and might very well be capable of taking his own boyfriend's life if need may be? That really is pushing any limit Style could ever have even as much as dreamed of. He can't do it.

But despite every instinct within Style telling him to run away, Style doesn't, because that would be suspicious and Style can't risk Fadel getting suspicious because that would seal his deathly fate even quicker. So Style hesitantly leans back and lets Fadel help him. And here at this point, I just wanna give a little shout out to Style raising his eyebrows and sighing a little after they're done, like whew, I survived that, I'm still alive, because it makes me giggle:

When Fadel alludes to wanting to have sex, Style plays dumb. Style has used this strategy before when he wanted to find out the connection between Fadel and the host club, but where in ep3 Style was playing dumb in order to gain Fadel's trust, here at the gym Style is playing dumb in order to delay having to get close to Fadel again (much less sleeping with him) while he figures out a way to get out of it. When Fadel cuddles up to him, it's the last straw. Style's panic takes over for good and he makes an escape. But then Fadel calls out to him, asking him to wait. Shit. Style's fight for his life is not yet over. Style stops, trying not to be suspicious or to do anything else that would give Fadel a motive to kill him.

Fadel walks up to him and wipes the sweat of his face. Where before Fadel's touch has recently been making Style feel good, it now feels very threatening instead. Yet, at the same time it's also a kind and caring gesture, which is something that isn't lost on Style.

Style very much notices the care in Fadel's action, but his new perspective on Fadel makes it hard for him to embrace and appreciate the kindness of it. And the kindness and care also contradicts the image of the ruthless killer Style now has in his mind of Fadel. These two contrasting aspects simply do not go together. Unable to cope, Style runs off.

The Attempt of a Conclusion

Where Style had just a little bit of a problem at the beginning of the episode, by the end of it that problem has grown much larger than he could have ever anticipated. Over the course of episode 3 we saw that Style was slowly starting to develop some positive feelings for Fadel, was slowly starting to actively enjoy hanging out around him, was starting to get curious about Fadel of his own accord and not for motives connected to the deal. Yet, the deal was still very much always there. In episode 4, however? Style might not have entirely realized it yet, but that deal is no longer relevant to him. Not showing up to the morning jogging or at the market might still have been a planned strategy in the mission Kant gave him, but that mission goes right out the window the moment he hears that Fadel had asked about him. When Style goes running to Fadel the second he is told that Fadel had asked about him when actually Style could and probably should have played his game a little longer, really letting Fadel stew, from that moment onward it's all about Style's own feelings rather than the car. And everything he does this episode is led by those feelings. Over the course of this episode we see that Style has genuinely started to like Fadel. And he had to. He had to start liking Fadel before learning about Fadel's real job. Because the higher you are, the further you fall and Style accidentally having caught feelings makes the drop down worse, for both Style, the character as well as us, the audience. Style genuinely likes Fadel now, and if that wasn't enough of a problem already, the man he likes turns out to be a professional killer.

Crap, indeed.

[agirlwholovesrockstars]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

☾ summary : Rome has never been the same since Emperor's Geta wife died, can you bring back the life he has before?

☾ pairing : Widowed!Emperor Geta x Servant!FEM!reader

☾ wc : 18+ MDNI angst, slow-burn, struggling with grief, fluff, smut, aftercare <3, Geta refers reader as "lass", discrimination, cursing, slight harassment, attempted poisoning, allusions to sexism and misogyny, appearance of General Acacius & Caracalla, hostile, aggression, no use of y/n, historical inaccuracies, reader is intelligent and different among the others

☾ agatha's masterlist ☾

"Leave me be!"

"Sire-"

"I said leave me be!"

The consul's scrambled everywhere as they quickly exited the room, numerous chatter swirled the area, he is upset yet again, it appears so

"Rome will fall, if he can't do his culpability" the patrician speak as he smirks taking a sip of his wine on a chalice

"Says who drowned themselves in leisure, yes, you have the power but you patricians who doesn't even contribute to this society, meaning you have no use at all!" one of the consul's spits venom that provoked the man in front of him as they clashed together in a heated argument that turned into a fight

"Enough of this foolishness!"

All of the men stopped abruptly as they saw who walked by

"The emperor is not in the mood for political talk as of the moment, so, all of you are dismissed!"

"Apologies, General Acacius" the member of the consul's shakes his head, absolutely humiliated by the behavior of the Senate, at a disapproval manner as he nudges his head at the door

"Have I not been clear? I needed to be alone"

"It's me, your liege"

He stifle an angry sigh when he recognized the male's voice as he clears his throat, he twists on his rings as he helped him calm for a bit as he turns around slowly, a twinkle on his eyes, the frown that he has on earlier has curved up into a slight smile

He won again, conquering every country that he commands him to do

"Pardon me for barging in but now it is done, can I see my wife and k-"

"There are more victories still yet to come"

He doesn't even let him finish, Acacius has to swallow his frustrations and sadness as he had to remain respectful in front of his Lord, but deep down, he knew

He always knew that he won't get out of this anytime soon, he is like tied to a chain that couldn't break

Taking over the next land and after the next place, it is very tiresome and he doesn't want to be remembered this way

He has seen so many innocent lives that he has to took just because of an order from the highest ruler of Rome, it's execution if he disoblige it, even he's the most-skilled General who won many battles but that's all erased when you're chosen for this duty

He doesn't even feel like he is doing his job as a General, he feels like a slave

It's an endless cycle, he figured that this is his coping mechanism ever since he rages out of nowhere, he can't even see the Emperor he once knew, he knew his ladywife back in the day when there's no blood spilt in the streets of Rome

He also knew that his own wife didn't want this for him and for Rome

But, can he blame him? He loved her too much and her being the leverage of why he does his responsibility so smoothly, his inspiration

Geta, he once knew didn't care about being powerful, untouchable, or feared, he was already contented on what he has have while being the Emperor and an Empress on his side

But that life strucked him out of it after his wife died on incurable disease

Everybody knew how this story goes, the town, the soldiers, and you

"Me and my dear brother are going to celebrate and set up a new entertainment for your winning" Geta says triumphantly as he missed the melancholic gaze that his General has

"The Colosseum, I presume?" He let out a small sigh as he forced a light smile

"Yes, Acacius, The Colosseum indeed"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

Whilst the action is happening, the crowds roar in cheer, Caracalla snickering in excitement as he sits besides his brother

Upon watching, Geta eyes never leaves in the field as he takes a huge gulp from his chalice, his face contorts into a unpleasantness as he drops the chalice alerting everyone around him, he holds his stomach in the process

He raises a hand not to do anything but when he starts violently coughing he falls back down in the ground, the shock gasps from the townspeople and so as the other upper social class that accompanied the two twin emperor's and the fighting in the dirt down under also caught attention in this

"Emperor Geta has been poisoned!" The consul's takes the chalice from the ground as he notices the wine has been spiked in some kind of a dangerous element in the drink

"Brother?" Caracalla immediately concerned to his twin and it makes him even more worried when he doesn't received anything from his brother, to that, he signals the gladiator's away and calls it off

"Can you find who it is and bring him to me, I'm sure whoever that was hasn't gone far enough" General Acacius asks one of his troops to search the one who intently wants to kill his Emperor

He is well aware of how cruel his ruler is, no matter how bad he was, it is no right to take someone's life

"He has to rest but I'm not sure he will live long enough" The nurse defeatedly as he releases a shaky breath

"What?!?" Caracalla panicks as he breathes heavily, he doesn't know what to do, only his brother can do bigger decisions for them and he don't know what he'll do if his brother passes away

He catches his brother stirred in a painful movement as he exasperatedly sighs as he gestures the nurse outside of the room to talk privately

Unbeknown to them, you we're there already waiting for the right moment, you have prepared the healing mixture in a bowl and you quickly took a spoonful of it

"Your grace, this will make you feel better"

A voice

A voice from a young woman beside him, he can't look at you closely when he's in a state of being delirious in this horrible feeling that is going on his system

He manages to ate everything that you could give him but you flinched at the sound of the banging doors

"Peasant!" Caracalla shouts as the glasses on every window ringed at the loudest tone that he directly went into you

"Merciful heavens-" The nurse exclaims as he snatches the bowl from your hands as you bowed your head down

You are not allowed to speak or even look at them unless they ask you to

Caracalla inspects on what you did but he saw his brother features eased a little bit when seconds ago he looked like he is in agony but of course, he doesn't want to give you the satisfaction that you obviously helped him but he doesn't stand you considering you're his personal servant before

"Scram!" He yells and your shoulders shook as you get on your feet together as you headed out of the door

The nurse swipes a finger on the bowl as he tasted it

"What is it?"

"It's....honey...sir"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

You know what you have done was risky and life threatening to be exact since you know how the twin emperor's punished everyone who dares to belittle them or underestimated them

You also knew, you are not someone who is in the higher class of the empire, you are no one

You're just a simple servant who follows commands, cleans, serves, and does all the work for them to keep the palace sleek and comfortable to them

But you've been here for far too long and learned that Geta, he has more humanity left in him than his brother

"Geta is soulless" they say, but to you, he is still there and he is still the same just waiting for someone to unleash it, you can see it in his eyes sometimes, you know all he wanted was to rest for a while but being an Emperor is an enormous weight on his shoulders to be carried because everyone expects him to make Rome great again

You admired him despite the unholiness things he has done, in your heart, you will always going to accept him

But you will always be the one who looks at him from afar because you're just a servant, if things were in a different circumstances you could've talk to him in an easy way but that only happens in dreams

"This is the girl who gave you that whatever substance that she made you eat last night" Caracalla drags you all the way to Geta's room making you drop to your knees as he shoves you harshly to the marbled floor

Geta stares at you, he stood up from his bed as he walks forward to you

"Stand up"

You do as he says while keeping your head down, he encircles you, even you don't see his expressions you feel his gaze analyzing every bit of you

"The nerve of this-"

"Brother, I've had enough"

He huffs as he wrongly thinks that his twin suggesting you to warm his bed

You swallowed nervously at that as you controlled your calmed composure, you tried your best to mask your stunned expression when he denies his brother's words as he escorts him outside of his room

When he appears in front of you, he saids in a calmer tone, "Lift your head up" you do as he says but still avoiding his eyes

He shook his head sideways, "I gave you the permission to look at me no need to ask me again" he demands, his voice was firm this time

That's where you can see so much more of him, upclose and personal, it's the first time you laid your eyes on him like this, god, his eyes

It felt like you're staring at him for too long to other emperor's if you have done that, you could've lose your head so you avert your eyes to somewhere else too scared to get killed off on the spot

You know he doesn't have the same qualities like his brother but still you don't wanna disrespect him

He could sense your discomfort, he still continues to assure you, "I am not going to do anything to you, I just wanted to have a civilized conversation to you"

You lightly nod at that, he chuckles and that eases you out when you heard it, "Is that how it goes for everyone?" he walks towards to the balcony with his hands behind his back as he nudges his chin for you to come and join him

"Sometimes, your highness"

"Terror, the terror that gives it away" he saids in a unlikely manner it almost sounds like he is not proud of it

Since he convinced you twice not to be afraid around him, so, you took the chance to spoke up, "Is it true what you said back there?"

He hums in response, you continued "that.... you're not going to use me for your own pleasure?"

He turns his head at you, amused by the sudden boldness that you could ask directful question like that to an Emperor

"I-I am not like my brother, I don't treat women that way" he stutters as you caught a glimpse of misty glimmer on his eyes but he rapidly blinks away as he focuses his stare to something else

It seemed like you just crossed a line, so, you quickly said

"My sincerest apologies for asking such question-"

"No, forgive me, for my brother, My mother thought us how to be proper in courting women but our father was the coldest man in our childhood, I think he consumed that attitude not so much as I do" he explains as he gave you a small smile that is somehow genuine to you as he re-enters inside of his room drinking a glass of water

You followed suit as you stayed in your place not too close from him

"Now, where did you learn that?" He kept his eyes on you

He brings up the question about the syrup that you gave him last night

"From where I come from that's the natural remedies for stomach indigestion but it is commonly used for food poisoning" you plainly said

He thinks your words carefully, "How come you knew that I was having food poisoning?"

"You're acting like you're about to vomit that's one of the cases of the said sickness, and as for the culprit, I fear, whoever that was, has their mission failed unsuccessfully"

He laughs at the last comment, "Oh, General Acacius will deal with that"

"Do you feel better now, my lord?"

"Yes, I do now, thanks to you" he points his chalice to you as you flash him a quick smile

"Is there anything else that I could do for you before I leave?"

He waves his hand at you as you turn and open the door

"Hang on"

You halt in your tracks and you turned around to look at him, "Yes?"

"How come I don't see you around here before?"

You frown at that question, "I am forbidden to answer that, I'm sorry I must go"

Caracalla, he thinks to himself

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"Brother!"

"Geta, for heaven's sake, did you not learn how to knock?!?"

"Where did you find her?"

"Oh, the wretched servant girl?"

"Yes, the servant girl"

A bitter laugh erupts from his chest, "Why are your eyes flaring through me like I've done something wrong?"

"I asked you a question, brother, my patience is thinning"

"Why? Do you want me to get rid of her?"

"Listen here, she told me she is banned to speak her part....unless you imperil her life if she does"

"Oh, yes, we had an agreement" he trails off as Geta stomps forward to him as he pushes him off the chest

"She is my servant here, that's why you haven't seen her before because I prevented her to roam around our palace but that girl's head is stubborn as a rock and also she knows too much and it's outlandish for a young woman to behave like that"

"Where is she positioned then?" He ignores the unnecessary remark about you

"I gave her to you instead, I was supposed to end her life but one of the eldest servants of ours, begged for me to spare her life because I was informed that she excels in a lot of work that is done here"

Geta nods slowly as he thought about you for the second time of the day, it makes sense

"Brother, she is odd, unlike the other women that I brought here, sometimes I do think that she casts a spell on men, a woman shouldn't be that open minded or having a brain"

"Is that the very reason why you cast her out?"

"Yes" he answers absentmindedly

Geta shook his head in disbelief on his brother, "Good thing that you let her live because without her? I wouldn't be alive right now"

He leaves his brother's chambers alone in his own thoughts

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"Is everything settled?"

"Swell"

General Acacius exits the room preparing for another upcoming battle but this time, Geta will come along

You enter inside thought no one is in there, so, you froze standing there

"You can come in, I am about to leave"

You nod at his words as you start wiping with a damp cloth of the artifacts and statues, you didn't mean to look, you accidentally scan over to what he was holding and you saw the papers, it looks like a tatic and war strategy, you took a brief glance over at the weather outside

"I had a feeling it's going to rain hereafter"

Geta removes his eyes on the paper as he follows your gaze, he blinks once or twice, waiting for you to elaborate when you didn't catch on, he spoke

"What exactly you're trying to prattle?"

"I surmise that's your crusade with Sir Acacius?" You point out the paperwork that he's holding as he slowly nod with a perplexed expression trying to grasp your words but he is still evidently confused

Surmise? He'll vouch his own brother on that, he was right, you are no ordinary servant

You are educated, it is given

This makes him piques more interest of getting to know you more

"Yes, it is"

"Is the ground solid?"

"What?"

"The battlefield, is it dirt or solid?"

"Uh.... it's mud"

"I'd say don't wear any armor-"

He snorts, "That's baffling to say-"

"Because it makes you heavy and it's hard to yield your swords"

You watch him as if you can see his mind working on its gears, he raises both of his eyebrows when he finally got what you mean

"How are you certain about this?" He tries to confirm your words

"I just told you, my lordship, I had a feeling" you only shrug your shoulders as you glance at him

"I can't believe I am saying this but I am intrigued"

"One more thing, I suggest you let them come over first before you attack gather everyone at the area and then begin fighting at the pit"

You missed the way his eyes are so fixed on you as you talk, he haven't had this fascinating interaction in years

It's all new to him

"I'll consider your advices, lass"

You curtsey to him before you take your departure as you close the door behind you

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

Good gracious

You we're right

If only you we're there to witness it

It's grotesque in all of sorts that Geta himself let all of his men killed one of his longtime foes in the Empire

They're supposed to fought together, but he kept slipping and embarrassing himself in front of him

He won, if he didn't revise his commitment on this, he would've lose it

Geta, however, delighted to celebrate this achievement, but something else is forming on his chest, he thought he could never felt it again after mourning the loss of his wife

You're not advised to meddle with the celebration but you longed for that someday, so, you saw him waving his hand at the townspeople by the window as you stop sweeping for a minute

You know that day won't come

"Before you go, can you call me a servant?" Geta laugh dies down as he straighten himself on the seat

"Yes, of course, your majesty" General Acacius saids fondly with a smile

"Which servant?"

"The bright one"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"You summon for me?" You enter his chambers and tried to poise as if you're not exhausted and already dreaded the set of overloading tasks that you're going to do

"Yes, my dear-"

He stops and his smile falls, "What happened to your hands?"

You tensed when he takes a hold both of your hands, you watch him, you're insane if you think that he cares about you

But, it seems like he truly does, he's been gone for 2 months and didn't like that he comes home to see this

He disregard the news to you, seeing those scratches, redness, splotches on your soft skin, is mood killer to him

He grumbles his tone changed, "Come with me"

You can't hear what they're saying

You're an inch across in the hallway but you can only tell that Geta is sternly talking to the head of the maids in his palace

The poor middle aged maid who is once treated you unkindly before, to your observation, you feel that she is being sermon by Geta, she is petrified

"If you make her work 10x more harder than all of you usually do, I will have your head for the public to see"

"No! Please-"

"Get the fuck away from my sight"

She scurries from him with the eyes of horror in them

Your eyebrows pulled together in bewilderment

"I've lighten your work load" he grins at you and you get even more bamboozled than before, the only thing you overheard from him is his lowly chuckle

"What- excuse me? Sire?"

He left you hanging like that as you frustratedly sigh and you just went into your cramped room and all alone in your unanswered questions

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"Child, what are you doing here?"

"I-I thought I was assigned to the laundry today?"

"You're not one of us here, not anymore"

"Sorry?"

"You're Emperor Geta's private servant now"

You softly gasp at the revelation as your mouth is hanging agape and you let out a sound of surprise fall from your lips

To that, you headed towards Geta's room, you are more confident to step in anytime since he has never been awful to you

"What in the blazes-"

"There you are"

You felt the mood shift and your questions on your mind had been paused when you caught the broken voice from him

He carefully folded a very old brittle letters, you assume it belongs to his wife, it's delicate and it's very sentimental to him, he uses the back of his hand to wipe the tears on his eyes

"Geta?-"

"Can you lay down on the bed, please?"

You oblige as you get yourself comfortable on his bed, your concern in your eyes has never faltered when you noticed how distress he is

He took off his robe lets it fall down to the floor as he joins you in, you didn't watch him get beside you, you just stare at the ceiling, you felt the mattress dipped

You feel his eyes on you, he is hesitant, he even kept a personal space for you, but he just needs someone to burst this out this heavy feeling that he has

He's been carrying this for ages

And no one is there for him to lean on, until you came

You heard the sniffle as he hiccupped between sobs, "C-Can I hold you?"

"Yes, you may-"

You yelped when he reaches out and grab you and embraces you a bit tightly

That's where he let all of his tears fall as he wept hard on you in the crook of your shoulder

Your heartaches for him, you also realized that he hasn't got anyone to talk to, about this, you know the reason why

It will make him look weak

The moment you wrapped your arms around him, he brings you even more closer to him, you run down your hand on his back from up and down as you let him wallow to you

You comforted him until the both of you drifted away to sleep

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

You woke up in a breezy morning with the most velvety blanket covered you

You haven't slept like this peacefully, you feel so relaxed than the rickety old bedframe that you had in your stables

You snap your eyes wide open when you realized where you are

"Calm down, lass"

You fastly sit up from the bed, he places his chalice aside as he sits down on the edge of the bed, a content smile on his face

"Sire-"

"You are welcome to stay here in my quarters, you can do everything that you wish" he says with the emphasis on the word as he held your hand caressing your knuckles with his thumb

He smiles again when he sees your wounds healing, the special ointment that he uses worked "Here, you should eat" he gives you the silver tray filled with variety of food

Before you protest, "I'll attend a meeting, I'll be back"

He left you with another complete unbelievable expression on your face

"This has got to be a dream"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

A rapple knock through the door, startled you out of it, disturbing you with the book that you've been reading, but before you could reach the handle, the same soldier that has been stalking you came in with rage and lust on his eyes, you walk backwards as he closes the door

"You know just because Geta made you his servant doesn't mean I have no right to touch you"

"Please, don't do this-"

"You are not his whore, noblewoman" he chuckles with snarkiness, "you're not his wife"

Your heart cracks, your body begins to shake because of fear, you eye the door behind him, you find look everywhere to use as a weapon

You had no other choice to kick him in the weak spot making him fold in pain, he tries to tussle you and threw you in the bed but you slapped him making him angrier than before

When you ran towards the door, he trips you made you fall flat face down on the floor, you scream out for help as the fresh tears roll down to your face as he drags your feet across the room, he puts himself on top of you

He won't budge as he rips your clothes, you thought it will be the end for you

"Hey!" Geta sheathes his sword pointing at the predator who crawls back, he's like a deer caught in the headlights, you picked yourself up as you went behind Geta's back

Geta's piercing gaze is making the man skin goosebumps on its wake, he gulped hard as he begs for his life and for mercy

"How dare you to enter my abode and wickedly abused my lady?!?" He steps more further to him as you hide behind his back

His lady? What?!?

"I shall eat your heart out and feed you to the lions!" He shouts and raises his sword aiming for his neck

"Geta! No!"

You went over to his front, you have no idea the effect that you're giving him, you saw his gaze softens when it lands on you

He calms down when you weep and hug him instead, but still the fire in his eyes lingered over the man who is now getting arrested by General Acacius men

When the two of you are alone, he spoke, "Are you alright-"

"I'm gonna draw a bath for myself-" you whispered

He sighs as he lets you, the worry on his eyes are glued to your back

He shouldn't have left you all alone

You bring your knees close to your chest as you quietly sob

Geta kept pacing back and forth outside of the bathroom, he runs down his palm on his face

The knock terrifies you again, "Lass?" but your nerves eased when you recognize the voice

"May I come in?"

You thought about it for a while, but you could use some company after what just happened

"Yes"

He gets himself inside, the moonlight is making your skin glow, his heart thumps faster as he walks closer, he felt bad

"I'm so sorry-"

"It isn't your fault, your grace" you sniffle as you cut off the eye contact to him, you feel so ashamed of yourself

"You should've let me kill him-"

"Geta, with all due respect, I'm not yours to begin with"

That's where guilt flashes on his eyes and it's clear to his face, he swallowed the lump on his throat as he breathes deeply

"I knew the Empress, I already accepted way before that I have no place in your world, nobody can ever surpass your lady wife" you croak out the last part as you sniffle

You are wrong about that

"Even you're not mine, I don't like evil things tainted my palace"

You look up to him as he cradled your cheek as he runs his thumb, "Come to my chambers after you finish and wear this" he whispers as he places a white satin dress next to you

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

When you finally came back to his chambers, he swiftly turns around to look at you

The air from his lungs knock out as he places his hand on his chest

The contentment on his smile fades slightly when you don't match the one on his face, he can't read you

"What do you need me for?"

"I-I want you to stay here with me"

You scoff, it feels like your wasting your time here, "Geta, you can't just want me and act like this meant nothing!"

"I didn't say that-"

"You shower me with all this affection and lavished me with stuff that I didn't asked for and why do I feel like I'm being the one who filling that void in you?!?"

Oh, you hit the nerve on him

"Slow down with your words, lass"

"Tell me, Geta, what am I here for? what am I to you?"

He sighs and raggedly breathes as he huffs

"Don't push me-"

"Answer me!"

"I can't pursue you because I'm a monster!"

Your heart shatters when you heard his voice cracks, "Geta-"

"You're the only woman that has ever treated me fairly ever since my wife died when in reality anyone could've left me for dead"

You know what exactly he's talking about, the day you saved him from poisoning

"What are you trying to say?"

"I tried to resist but you making it hard for me not to, I-I thought I would never have this, you made me feel alive"

You come closer to him but he kept staying away from him, you plead your eyes to him but he avoids it

"You're too good to me, you don't even know how many times you crossed my mind everytime I'm out there making plans for Rome"

"Geta, you we're only doing what you have to do, I understand-"

"Dearie me, lass, spare me your sympathies, it's unfathomable how much I brought wreckage of Rome, do you know how the town loathes me?!?"

You reach to his face to hold both of his cheek, he gasps within the warmth of your touch

"I could never hate you, there's no fiber in me that despises you, I'm not afraid of you, Geta"

His eyes are glassy and when everywhere as he searches for uncertainty, there's nothing, you are so honest and sure with your words

"Will you spooked out if I do something?"

"No, Geta-"

He slams his lips against yours as you melt with it, both of yours lips together collided as one, he kisses you deeper as he grabs your waist closer to him, you let out a sweet soft moan as he growls when you bit his lips slightly

He grips both of your legs as he carries you smoothly as if you weigh nothing, you wrap your arms around his neck as he kisses you tenderly, your heart melts with his gentleness

He trails his kisses to the nape of your neck as his hands are under the hem of your dress, he breathes you in, he pull down the strap of your dress as you adjust yourself to remove it, your cheeks are flushed as you became shy under his gaze as he drinks you in

His eyes rake all over your body, your curves, your thighs, he takes his robe off quickly as he can, you giggle as he shoots you mischievous grin

"Your face and your body is like been carved by the gods" he breathlessly say as he carefully enters your sopping hole as you winced at the intrusion

The pain is overwhelming but as soon as the pleasure takes over you throw your head back into the cushions

"G-Geta-" you whine as he kisses your jaw, "I know, my love"

My love?, you audibly gasped at that but his moves goes faster and your roll backwards at the sensation forming up in your belly

He pumps in and out of your tight hole as the sinful sounds of body slamming echoed in the room, he kneads your breasts as he goes even more faster

He swallows your moans as he captures your lips again, he can't get enough of you, he wanted to absorb every inch of you

Your jaw falls slack when you grip beneath the sheets, he grips your hips so hard, your nails dig to his back as you scratch it earning a groan from him

You feel completely boneless as he pulls you to him, you shriek at the angle that he could reach inside of you, he opens your legs wider as he helps you to bottom in and out as you sunk down on him, you mewl and writhe as he sucks on your skin finding your sweet spot as you squeal, licking the marks that he made on you with the flat of his tongue

Your legs tremble as your toes curl when you roll your hips to him as he matches your movements, you grind him fast, he praises how he feels so good inside of your velvety walls as you clench around him

You moan loudly when he brings you back to the bed as he start pounding on you, your eyes almost drop to its sockets, when you tried to use your elbows to raise yourself but can't do it anymore as you feel absolutely in the haze, blissfully euphoric in the moment

He brings you over the edge as he stays in the crook of your neck as he continues ruthlessly goes back and forth deliciously coating his member with your juices

You scream as you came undone as you blackout from the orgasm, he kisses every part of your skin leaving no part missed, he breathes out with a lazily smile and when he notices you're not responding, he gently pats your cheek

"Darling?"

That's the first time that he has ever referred you

You hum in response but a pleased smile is now sitting on your lips, your eyes are half way closed, the vision is still blurry and your legs are definitely going to sore first thing in the morning but you don't care, this is fulfilling to you

He sighs in relief, "Are you well?" He says as slowly pulls himself out, you whimper at the emptiness as he devilishly chuckles

"I am, I just need to come back down to earth"

Bells of laughter bursted out from his mouth as you smiled widely at the sound of it

When he calms down, he takes care of you, both of you are still naked under the sheets as he pulls you to his side to wrap his arms around you, he rests your head over his arm as he scooped you closer to him as you sigh in comfort

"Goodnight, my love"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

Your head is nestled to his neck so perfectly made just for you

You feel otherworldly happier

The sunrise hits your eyes as you squint on it, you look up to him, you saw how handsome he truly is, without his makeup during his killing time in the Colosseum

His ginger hair is so unruly but you loved it so much, you smile to yourself

You can't stop yourself as you place a kiss to his lips making his face scrunch as he finally registers what's happening

He smirks, "Well, morning, lass" This time kisses you properly earning a giggle from you

"Morning, my emperor"

His eyes sparkle when you said that, "My emperor, I like it"

Both of you are mirroring each other, smiling so big that it making your cheeks hurt but you didn't mind it

It looks like he is back again, you knew it, you knew it all along

His face became slowly serious as he takes your hand closer to his chest as he peppered it with kisses

"Lass?"

"Hm?"

"I want you to be my-"

"Your eminence? someone here wants to see you"

He rolls his eyes as your smile never faded as you look at the door behind him

"My sweet-"

"You can tell me it later, Geta" you held his cheek as you made a quick peck to his lips

He pouts but he has to stand up and get dressed as you sit up to watch him

Love

Love is so above in the air, both of your heartbeats the same thing

When he looks decent, he's about to leave but he run towards you to give you a big kiss as you squeal as you shove him in the chest as he laughed

He finally lets you go, he walks backwards as he bite his bottom lip

He turns around opens the door and gave you one last look with a smile that you never ever expected to be directed at you

A smile that you never thought you will get to see it again

He gives himself a tight nod as he finally made his mind, he knows what to do with your relationship to him

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

"Acacius?"

"Yes, your liege?"

"You have my permission, you can visit your family"

His eyes are watery from the statement but Geta felt the happiness that rushes through him

"I sincerely thank you for accepting my request, your highness" he bows

When he gathered his things, Geta spoke again, he needed to say this to him

"Acacius?"

"Yes?"

"I-I know I'm not the exceptional Emperor but I must say that I am forever indebted to your loyalty, not one single General that stays longer than you, Acacius"

He chuckles heartily at that, "If I may be so bold, sire, can I tell you something?"

"Please do"

"Is she your lady?"

Geta blushes at that as he scratches the back of his neck, "Yes, she is"

"That young woman, my lord, your brother Caracalla, he....snatched her father's life away, she's no royalty but her parents scraped up to give her what they can do, to what they feel seems right for her, so, that's why she's so knowledgeable" he saids with a dismayed expression on his face

It felt like a punch to a gut

"I fear, you didn't know about that" Acacius realizes that Geta's mind is all over the place now

"I-I....good god.....she didn't addressed that to me"

"It's because she loves you so much that she protected you from your brother's schemes"

Geta sat down on his throne with a softened features on his eyes as Acacius made his way over to his side

"She chose kindness over hatred despite what your brother has done to her"

"I-"

He saw your figure hiding behind the pillar, his heart swells at the sight of you being so meek all of the sudden, Acacius followed Geta's eyes as he gestures to welcome you

You shyly came out, "I didn't mean any harm-"

"Tell me, lass, how does my Empress sound?"

Acacius purses his lips as he tries to hide his knowing smirk as he held his hands behind his back

Your mouth slowly drops as you tilt your head at him as you dart your eyes back and forth to him and Acacius, Geta wished you knew how breathtaking you look, you radiating everything that he has ever needed in his life, your eyes screams joy, your lips curled into a sweet smile, you see in his eyes that he wholeheartedly wanted this, and you couldn't convey how elevated you are

But before you could answer, you saw someone aiming an arrow at him, your eyes widen

When it strikes, you pushed Geta away catching the arrow yourself in the scene, he gasps as Acacius manages to dodge the second arrow, he hollers at his troops to capture the man, it's the same man who terrorized you, the voices are blurred to him now, he felt his world crumbled when he saw you laying on the marbled floor with a staggering breath, you feel lightheaded, your blood seeps through your white dress, he drop to his knees as he daintly pulls you to him as he cradles your neck

"Oh, god, no" he didn't even realized that he's crying as you felt the tears falling through your cheek

"Geta-" you choke in your own blood, Geta carries you in his arms as he shushes you, he's making sure that he's not hitting your injured area as he curses at himself

"D-Don't beat yourself up, Geta"

"No, save your strength-"

"I'm sorry, Geta, I didn't wished for this to happen-" you sob as you grimace in pain

"What are you even apologizing for?"

"I didn't meant to replace your ladywife"

"Stop, don't talk like that" he pants as he calls for a healer to fix you

"Don't torture yourself, I don't want you to punish yourself-"

"I-I can't lose you!"

"Geta, don't cry-"

"I would rather be with you than be alone ruling Rome, I want you by my side!"

"I have adored you for eons, Geta" you sniffle as you flash him with a pained smile

"Y-You can't- I love you" Geta himself shocked by his own words as he tries

Your waterline starts to sting as you tried to hold back your tears, the faint tear rolls down to your cheek as he wipes it with his thumb

When he sees your eyes fluttering close, he wails, he panicked bad, really in pure anguish

"N-No-N-No, don't stay with me!"

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

He watches as your chest heaves weakily, bloodshot eyes as he can feel them swollen first thing in the morning when he wakes up

He stayed up late, he stayed beside you while you're fast asleep, your face has lost its color of how tender the arrow hit you closer to your chest, Geta has seen so many horrific scenarios all of his life but not like this, every maid and even General Acacius clamoring to save you, it's like the time stopped, it's like the God's cursing at him that he didn't deserve this

Happiness at last until it's not

It's a miracle, the healer says, that somehow it didn't hit a more fatal fracture around your chest, it will heal but surely it will leave a mark on your skin and the process will be longer at how deep the arrow went through you

"What's the point" Geta mutters to himself as he takes a glance at you

"What's the purpose of me living and ruling this empire with Rome around me when I have no one" he punctuates every word with indignant tone as he stood up and puff as he paces across the room

"I have nothing without my lady" he took a look at the sky as if he's talking to the God's

"Me, an bloodthirsty Emperor who is inhumane to his people, I know, what I've done, I will take that regret to my grave, it's unforgivable, the shadow of it will forever follow me, but this?" He points to you and looked back at the sky again said with tears on his eyes, irked but filled with desperation and misery

"I-I was blinded by my sorrow and wrath, I cursed the whole town and blamed the world for the death of my late wife" his voice cracks on every word as he runs a shaky hand over his hair

He looks back at you again and he can't help but breakdown and cry once more

He shakes his head furiously as he gives a pointed look at the sky

"I won't let you take her, you can't take her away from me, not this one, no, I won't allow it, not ever!" He shouts out loud as his voice echoed, he breathes heavily as he squeezes his eyes shut

"Let me have her, please, let me keep her" he pleas as he stare into nowhere

When he hears a faint voice coming from inside, he gets back up to his feet, he did a double take, if he heard it right, when he does he sprinted back to you

He sees you holding out your hand as he happily cries to see you awake, you've slept for so long when it all happened in one day

"M-My darling-"

"Geta, y-you're not blaming yourself, are you?"

"N-No, it doesn't matter anymore"

When you tried to move, you wince as he reminded you, you need to stay still for a while or else you'll bleed again

"Feeling any better?"

"Yes, I am, because you're here"

He sobbed as he kisses your hand as he held it close to his cheek, "Your goodness has never failed to make my heart flutter, my dear, I'm terribly sorry-"

"I love you too"

He stifle a gasp to your words, "You do?" with a hopeful gaze as you smile at him as you move the hair that is closer to his eye

"I do, and I accept your proposal"

He grins widely as he sniffle, you wipe the tears from his eyes, "Don't fret, my love, I'm here"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Of what?"

"That my brother killed your father?"

You blink rapidly suddenly growing nervous, "I-I don't want you and your brother to argue, I know the both of you wanted to rip off with each other's bones but he is still your brother "

He nods softly, "It will take me time to forgive him then"

"That's all I ever wanted for you, Geta"

"Merciful?" He jokingly said as you amuse yourself

"Yes, but don't worry about that now, what matters is we have each other, I help you with every step of the way"

He tucks your hair behind your ear as he hold your cheek, "I am more prouder to stand before you because I know that you got me"

"Always?"

"Always"

He kisses you tenderly and gently, a kiss with a promise, tomorrow will be different, the phases of your life will change because

You're no longer a servant but a....

An Empress to an Emperor

┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈

☾ an : erm- I think I went overboard lol this was supposed to be a oneshot but it ended up to a longer oneshot fic lmao anyways I just wanted to be detailed and hopefully y'all enjoyed reading this, I got inspired because there's something about a mournful and snappy emperor but has a soft spot for someone that he didn't realized that he loved her! so yeah that's the gist hehe

☾ tags : @eirone-and-cheese @eddiesghxst @yourfavouritecitizen @princesssunderworld (without them pushing me to write this already, this fic wouldn't come to fruition, so, I highly thank you for supporting me! even I'm not that skilled writer, I'm just doing this for fun but still I appreciate your kindness! <3 🥺🫶🏻)

[dorabellingham]

Long distance

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when your long-distance relationship is going through a turbulent time, but you do everything to understand each other

request: yes!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The months passed quickly, and despite the distance, you and Jude tried to stay connected. He was in Madrid, living the peak of his career, with intense training, games and constant travel, while you, in another country, focused on your college year. The distance was testing your limits, but so far, you seemed to be able to keep the flame alive. However, there were times, like this one, when you felt that something wasn't right.

It was a cold Thursday night, and you were at home, after another long week of studies and commitments. You looked at your phone, checking if you had any messages from Jude. You saw that he had sent you a good night message, as he always did when you weren't talking in person, but when you opened the screen, you saw that he was busy with something and couldn't answer at those times. It was something common, but that night, a feeling of emptiness hit you even harder. You tried to be understanding. You knew that Jude was at a decisive moment in his career and that football demanded a lot of his time. However, you couldn’t help but feel alone. The long-distance relationship was getting hard to sustain. You always tried your best to be patient, but you also had your own emotional needs, and as much as you loved your boyfriend, you couldn’t hide the fact that you were feeling neglected. That night, instead of just texting him that you were fine, you sat on your bed and decided to write something more sincere. You knew you had to be honest with him, no matter how hard it was.

"Jude, I know you’re super busy and I don’t want to be a burden, but… sometimes I feel like you’re so distant. Not physically, of course, but emotionally. I understand how much football takes out of you, but I also need you here, you know? And there are days when I really feel like I’m doing this all by myself. I don’t want to be demanding, but can you help me understand what’s going on? I just don’t want to feel invisible.”

You hesitated a little before hitting send, but you knew you had to say it. You didn’t want the frustration to build up to the point where it could harm their relationship. Instead, you preferred to get things sorted out while there was still time.

A few minutes later, your phone vibrated. It was a text from Jude.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry if I left you feeling this way. I really didn’t mean to. You know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for us. I can’t deny that I’m completely focused on my work, but that will never be more important than you. I love you and I’m struggling to find balance. I want you to know that I need you here too, more than you know. Let’s talk about this when you can.”

You felt an immediate sense of relief. You knew he wasn’t trying to push you away, but the feeling of being neglected hurt you deeply. You took a deep breath and sent a reply.

“I love you, Jude. I know it’s hard for you too, and I don’t mean to be selfish. Just… please don’t make me feel like I’m an option when you already have so much going on. I just need to know that I’m still important to you, even with all this crazy schedule you have.”

Your phone vibrated again.

“You’ll always be my priority, Y/n. I’m just trying to organize myself so that we can be together as much as possible. I don’t want you to feel that way, no way. Let’s figure it out. Give me some time and we’ll plan something together, something just for us, so you can see how important you are to me. I promise I’ll try to make this easier for you. I’m not going to give up on us.”

You smiled, feeling a soft relief this time. You knew that, despite the distance and the challenges, the love between you were still strong. You were still learning to deal with the situation, and that was something natural, something that many long-distance relationships face.

A few hours later, you finally received a call from Jude. The sound of his voice calmed you down immediately, and you closed your eyes as you listened to him speak, knowing that, despite the pressure and the distance, you still belonged together.

—Babe, I just wanted to hear from you. I was thinking about how we can improve this. Maybe I should call you more often, or even text you more when I know you need me.

You interrupted him softly, with a light laugh.

—I’m not the type of person to complain, but sometimes I feel like I’m trying too hard to be strong on my own. And yes, a more frequent message would make me feel more present. I know you’re doing your best, Jude. It’s just that sometimes the best seems so far away, darling.

Jude sighed, as if he was relieved to finally hear your truth. He could feel the weight of your words, and it touched him deeply.

—I understand. And I’m going to do it. I’m going to be more present. Because you deserve it. You deserve to know that I’m completely yours, even if the distance tries to separate us. I’m going to make things work, because you’re the most important thing in my life.

You smiled at his words. The feeling of warmth was almost instantaneous. You had had a difficult conversation, but a necessary conversation, and that was the most important thing. You didn’t want to be neglected, but you didn’t want to be selfish either. You just wanted to be with him, by his side, even if that meant you had to adjust a little.

—I love you, Jude. I’m here for you too, always. And I know that in the end, everything will work out. We’ll get through this together.

He was silent for a moment before answering.

—I love you more, babe. And I’m going to show you that I can be better for both of us.

That night, even though you were miles apart, you and Jude felt closer than ever. Your conversation was a reminder that despite the hardships of distance and Jude’s career, what really mattered was your commitment to each other. You weren’t giving up. You were simply learning to be better in your relationship, day by day.

[spanktony]

“LEFTOVERS” - lee doona.

summary: lee doona was so full of herself and you hated it. until, you understood.

words: 4.2k +

warnings: 18+ g!p reader, p in v, oral (d receiving), doona’s kinda an ass but not really because she’s wifey, and i think that’s all.

notes: once request open back up more doona requests guys 🙏🙏🙏🙏 she’s so underrated

navigation. request.

you had never met someone so full of themselves; well, that was up until the moment you had your first interaction with doona. you had just finished lacing up your sneakers, your compression shirt hugging your torso and your workout pants snug and comfortable.

the day was still cool, perfect for a run, and you were looking forward to clearing your head after a long day of work.

being a server was no joke.

you popped your headphones into your ears, selecting your playlist before closing and locking the main entrance door behind you, completely oblivious to the pair of eyes that had been watching you from across the courtyard.

it was a beautiful evening, and you smiled as you started singing, off-key but nonetheless singing, while you warmed up and stretched before your run. you didn't notice the figure sitting nearby until you were almost past them.

doona.

she was sitting on the brick fence that surrounded an old tree, one leg crossed over the other, and a cigarette dangling from her lips. the smoke swirled lazily around her, and she exhaled slowly, watching you with a bored, detached look as you bopped your head to the music in your headphones.

you were in your own little world, head down, and pounding music that drowned out everything except for your own thoughts.

but then, just as you were getting into a good groove, doona stood up abruptly, taking a drag from her cigarette.

without missing a beat, she stepped directly into your path, her body blocking your way.

you came to a halt, pulling your headphones down to your neck.

"excuse me," you said, raising an eyebrow, already feeling the irritation start to build. you hadn't been expecting anyone to stand in your way, let alone her.

doona regarded you coolly, the smoke curling from her lips as she blew out a cloud and gave you a pointed look. "what's your deal?"

you blinked, confused, your jaw slightly dropping. "what?"

doona took another slow drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. the calm, almost calculating look on her face made you feel even more confused.

"you've been staring at me for weeks," she said, her voice laced with something you couldn't quite place. was it annoyance? amusement? "every time you run by, you look up at my apartment. i see you. you're watching me."

you blinked again, the irritation from before quickly turning into bewilderment. "what? i'm not—what are you talking about?"

doona's expression didn't soften. she flicked the ash off her cigarette, still maintaining that intense gaze. "don't act like you haven't noticed me. you've been eyeing me from across the courtyard every day, practically tracking my every move. and now you're singing my songs like some kind of weird obsession. what's your deal, stalker?"

a small laugh escaped you, almost out of reflex. "are you serious? i've just been doing my thing—i'm not stalking anyone."

doona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. for a moment, there was a pause between you two, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears as your confusion started to shift into something else.

"yeah, right." she took another drag, blowing the smoke into your face, causing you to close your eyes and cough slightly. your jaw tightened at the action, but you still tried to keep your cool. the last thing you wanted was to give her any kind of satisfaction.

doona tilted her head to the side; the two of you studied each other intently, the tension thickening between you as the seconds dragged on. her gaze was sharp, predatory even, and her lips twitched into a small smirk.

you, on the other hand, were trying your hardest not to show how irritated you were. it wasn't like you cared that she thought you were some sort of stalker. in fact, you were far more interested in getting away from this confrontation and finishing your run.

but as you stared back at her, you couldn't help but feel... curious. who was this woman? why was she so damn confident and dismissive?

finally, you exhaled sharply, pulling your shoulders back when it finally hit you. she was lee doona, from dream sweet!

your confusion morphed into a mix of surprise and disinterest. you weren't particularly impressed by celebrity status, and honestly, you couldn't care less who she was. all you cared about was getting back to your routine and putting as much distance between you and this strange encounter as possible.

you stared at her for a beat longer, trying to mask the faint surprise flickering across your face. doona's eyes held an intense gaze, scanning you almost like a puzzle to be solved.

but when you didn't immediately react the way she expected, her expression faltered for a fraction of a second, and she flicked the cigarette again, sending more ash into the wind.

"so, what?" you said, cutting through the silence with a firm tone, finally over the awkwardness. "you're accusing me of stalking you because i run by and look up at the apartments? that's a stretch."

doona narrowed her eyes, seemingly a bit put off by your nonchalant attitude. she opened her mouth, but something in your demeanor stopped her. maybe it was the fact that you weren't fawning over her or hanging on her every word like people usually did.

maybe it was the confusion you still had about her unexpected behavior. she seemed a little unsure of herself for the first time in the conversation.

her voice, when it came out, was slightly less accusatory, but no less annoyed. "it's not just about running by, alright? it's the way you look at me. like you're always waiting for something."

you paused, taking a moment to process her words. you tried to read her, but she had the same expression as before, guarded and defensive. her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp.

was she really this caught up in a casual interaction with someone she thought was obsessed with her?

"i'm not 'waiting' for anything," you replied before brushing past her, putting your headphones back in, and jogging out of the courtyard towards the street.

over the next week, doona's presence became hard to ignore. she had a way of appearing at just the right moment—whether it was passing you in the hallway or casually lounging on her balcony as you stepped out for air.

her presence was like a constant shadow, always hovering just out of reach but never quite out of mind. you couldn't deny that her mysterious aura intrigued you, but you weren't about to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

each time you crossed paths, whether she was perched on the balcony with a cigarette or standing in the doorway as you passed by, she had that same intense, unreadable gaze. it was like she was trying to figure you out, but at the same time, she never seemed to want to make the first move.

you, however, had other things on your mind—your routine, your runs, the work that needed to get done. doona wasn't a part of that, no matter how much she seemed to want to be. you kept your head down, trying to block out the distraction that was her presence.

but one day, when you returned home after work, still dressed in dress pants and a black button-up shirt, you saw doona sitting outside.

you hesitated for a second, unsure if she'd approach or if you should just keep walking. but before you could make up your mind, she called out to you.

"hey."

you stopped, caught off guard by the lack of confrontation this time. she wasn't blocking your path or looking at you like you were some strange specimen. she was just... there. waiting.

"are you going to keep ignoring me, or do you actually want to talk?" her tone wasn't harsh this time, just curious.

for a moment, you felt a flash of irritation. who did she think she was, acting like she had the right to dictate when you should talk to her? you had enough of these mind games. you glanced over at her, seeing her kicking her feet outwards like a child.

she wasn't smoking this time, and she wasn't giving you that intimidating, piercing stare either. instead, her eyes were warm, and there was a small, inviting smile on her face.

something in your stomach twisted slightly, but you managed to hold yourself together. you stepped forward, crossing your arms, but your stance was more relaxed now, less defensive than before. "what's this about, doona?"

she leaned back against the fence, leaning back on her arms and tilting her head slightly. "i don't know. maybe i was wrong about you."

"wrong about me?" you repeated, confused. "what do you mean?"

doona let out a sigh, her gaze flicking down to the ground before meeting yours again. "i misjudged you. thought you were... obsessed or something."

a soft chuckle escaped you, and you raised an eyebrow, still unsure if you were understanding correctly. "and now?"

her stomach growled audibly before she could answer; doona's eyes flicked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she ran a hand through her hair, clearly embarrassed.

you couldn't help but chuckle at her. "lucky for you, i've got leftovers from work," you said, tapping the backpack you had slung over your shoulder, which contained a portion of the evening's meals from your restaurant job.

"leftovers?" doona raised an eyebrow. "what, you think i look like i'm starving?"

"maybe not starving," you said, "but it's not like you're going to turn down free food." you held out the bag, shaking it slightly, almost teasing her.

she eyed it for a moment, then pushed herself off the fence, moving toward you with a slow, deliberate step. "you're lucky you're offering," she muttered, taking the bag from you with a slight smirk. "i wasn't going to beg for your charity."

"right," you said, shaking your head. "just take it, doona."

for a second, she seemed to hesitate, as if weighing whether to offer a witty remark, but instead she just muttered a quick thanks, her fingers brushing yours as she took the bag.

the next evening, when you returned from work again, there she was, sitting by the same spot, her eyes trained on her feet. she didn't seem to notice your approach until your foot scraped against the concrete.

this time, she didn't wait for you to say anything. the moment she saw you, she stood up and walked toward you, eyes gleaming.

"got any leftovers today?" she asked, cutting straight to the point.

you were taken aback for a moment. had she really come just for food? "still hungry, huh?" you asked, grinning despite yourself.

"very," she replied, with that same smirk you were starting to recognize all too well.

you shrugged, reaching for your backpack and pulling out another container. "here, take it."

days passed, and each night when you came home, doona was there, waiting for more of your leftovers. her presence had become a routine, like a weird, unspoken agreement between the two of you. you'd offer the food, she'd take it with little fanfare, and sometimes, if you were lucky, she'd stay for a little conversation.

one evening, your manager practically forced you to stay late, almost two hours after your shift had ended. when you finally arrived home, exhausted and hungry, doona wasn't waiting for you. it was late, so you don't know why you would expect her to be there.

but as you made your way up the stairs and towards your apartment, you noticed something odd. a faint sound—footsteps. someone moving quickly, almost purposefully. you paused, glancing around.

there she was.

doona stood at the foot of your building, her eyes scanning the space like she was looking for something—or someone. her gaze locked onto you the moment you stepped into view, and for the briefest of moments, there was something almost sheepish in her expression.

you stopped in your tracks, the exhaustion from your late shift quickly replaced by a flicker of amusement. "i didn't think you'd be waiting tonight," you said, adjusting the strap of your backpack, almost expecting her to snap back with some witty retort.

she didn't. instead, she bit her lip, her eyes darting around as if unsure of herself. "i thought you might have forgotten," she said with a small shrug.

you blinked, the words catching you off guard. "forgot?"

"yeah." she looked down at her feet for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "the food. i've... been getting used to it."

a weird, inexplicable tug in your chest made you pause.

"i haven't forgotten," you replied, your tone a little lighter. "i just got stuck at work longer than usual. but i brought something for you."

you opened your bag; instead, it wasn't the usual takeout you usually brought her. instead, you pulled out a small cake—chocolate with rich frosting and a simple "happy birthday" written on top in delicate icing.

doona blinked in surprise, her eyes widening a little. "what... is this?"

"it's your birthday, isn't it?" you asked with a small, teasing smile. "i figured you'd appreciate something sweet, instead of leftovers for once."

she stared at the cake for a long moment, not even noticing you turning away and walking upstairs toward your bedroom, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

doona lingered by the doorway, still staring at the cake. something about the gesture touched her, and her mind raced with questions, but none of them would formulate into coherent words.

after a long, thoughtful pause, she made her way up the stairs with the cake in her hand. when she knocked on your door, you opened it, already anticipating her arrival. you weren't surprised to see her standing there, her expression unreadable as she walked past you, heading straight for your bed and setting the cake down on your desk.

you raised an eyebrow as she made herself at home, flopping down on your bed without a care in the world. it was a little jarring, considering how much she had thrown off the idea of getting close to you just a few weeks ago. but there she was, casually reclining on your bed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you stood by the door, not quite sure what to say. "you just walked in without even asking?"

she shrugged, her eyes not leaving yours. "it's not like you're going to stop me."

"what makes you so sure?"

"you wouldn't have let me in otherwise."

that was a fair point. you sighed, moving to unbutton your work shirt, but instead of heading to your closet, you stayed near the door, keeping a safe distance from her. "what do you want?" you asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"i just wanted to see if you missed me," she answered, her voice unexpectedly soft, though laced with that playful challenge. her gaze held yours, and for a second, you could have sworn there was a hint of affection in her expression.

you swallowed, breaking the gaze and looking away. you didn't want her to catch the flush creeping across your cheeks.

doona smirked, watching the way your fingers fumbled with the buttons on your shirt, the way you tried so hard not to show any sign of vulnerability. you chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness in your laugh.

"miss you?" you took a few steps further into the room but kept your distance, not wanting to make the moment feel too awkward. "you've been showing up for leftovers, and now you're asking if i miss you?"

doona raised an eyebrow, which dropped when she let out a sigh, glancing around your room. it was her first time ever being up here. "you looked for me tonight," she muttered. "i didn't think you cared if i was around or not."

you paused, the weight of her words hanging in the air. for a moment, you felt exposed, like she had somehow cracked through the barriers you'd carefully put up around your thoughts and emotions. you'd been so intent on brushing her off, pretending that her presence didn't matter, that you hadn't realized how much she'd started to occupy your mind.

"i didn't look for you," you said quickly, though you weren't entirely sure if you believed it yourself. "i just—" you rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes, not wanting to meet hers. you took a deep breath, forgetting about taking off your work clothes and instead focused on trying to maintain your composure.

doona's gaze softened slightly as she watched your struggle to keep your cool. she could tell you were trying to downplay the shift in your emotions, but it wasn't working. there was a crack in your facade, and she was starting to notice it.

"right," she said, her voice dropping into something softer, more teasing than before.

you shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of your neck again as your eyes flicked to the cake you had given her earlier. for some reason, the sweetness of the gesture now felt like it was hanging over both of you, making everything feel more real, more vulnerable. you had never meant for this to become more than just a simple exchange. leftovers. a casual moment. yet here she was, in your room, in your personal space, making things feel... complicated.

"i didn't expect you to be here," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent but failing. "i didn't think you'd care if i gave you a cake or not."

doona let out a soft, almost wistful laugh. "you really are bad at this, aren't you?"

the way she said it caught you off guard. there was something affectionate in her tone, something beyond just teasing. you had never thought she would soften up like this, not after all the weird tension that had built up between you two. but there it was.

you swallowed, still not quite sure how to handle the shift in the air. it was no longer about leftovers, no longer about the small interactions. she was making you confront something you hadn't expected to feel—maybe even something you hadn't wanted to feel.

"doona..." you started, but she cut you off before you could finish.

"stop overthinking it," she said with a small, half-smile. "i'm not here to make you uncomfortable. not really. i just... want to see how far you'll go."

"go where?" you asked, still confused but unable to stop the questions from rising in your chest. "what do you want from me?"

she sat up from your bed, the air between you two thickening with every word. "i just want to know if you're more than the girl who gives me leftovers. are you?"

her gaze was intense now, and her words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once. you didn't have an answer, and you didn't know what she was hoping for. you just knew that whatever this was—whatever you two were turning into—it was no longer as simple as it had been when she first asked for leftovers.

she stood up from your bed, her hands falling to the buttons of your shirt, her eyes never leaving yours. you felt the soft cotton of your shirt, now being unbuttoned by her, slipping off your shoulders as she leaned in closer.

her fingers traced along the lines of your collarbones, slowly, gently, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. it was such a gentle touch, such a light caress, yet you couldn't help the way your breath caught in your throat, the way your heart skipped a beat.

she tilted her head slightly, her smile growing as she watched you, the intensity of her gaze making it clear that she was enjoying this. enjoying seeing you get flustered, enjoying seeing you react to her touch.

and then, her hand moved to your hip, and she pulled you closer, pressing her lips against yours.

you could feel your pulse quicken as the kiss deepened, her fingers digging into your hip, her other hand reaching up and tangling in your hair, tugging slightly. as she pulled you closer, you could feel her body pressing against yours, her breath mingling with yours, your mind going blank as her tongue swiped over your lips, tasting, teasing.

you hadn't expected this—hell, you didn't even know if you were ready for it. but doona wasn't giving you a chance to overthink. she was just there, and all you could do was follow her lead.

when the kiss broke, you found yourself looking into her eyes. they were dark and full of want and something else, too. you swallowed, feeling your stomach twist with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

doona leaned in again; this time you didn't hesitate, kissing back with the same intensity and hunger she was pouring into you, her lips soft and insistent against yours, while her arms dangled around your neck.

the kiss deepened again, your hands fell to her waist, and doona began walking backwards; you followed her like a puppy on a leash, falling on top of her as her back hit your bed. her eyes were half-closed, but they were still looking at you. she ran her hands up and down your sides, caressing you. her touch was light, but you felt it go right through you. doona smiled up at you, her hands going to the hem of your shirt and lifting it up, her fingers grazing your skin as she pulled the material up over your head.

her hands fell to your core, fingers trailing against your stomach. her touch was making you shiver, sending waves of pleasure through you.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, focusing on her touch, looking down to see a singular finger moving along the top of your pants, tracing the outline of your belt, teasing. she was taking her time, exploring your body, watching and listening to your reactions. it was making you painfully hard, and you wanted nothing more than to have her fingers wrap around you.

finally, doona moved her hands back up and unbuckled your belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it aside. then, she popped the button on your pants and lowered the zipper, sliding your jeans down, exposing your black boxers.

she was gazing at you, her pupils blown wide with lust. doona licked her lips. she was waiting for you to say something. but all you could do was nod and kiss her.

her tongue slipped into your mouth, and you moaned into her mouth, the sound muffled by her lips. doona's hand was in the front of your boxers, rubbing your cock through the material, feeling how hard you were. your hands gripped the sheet beneath you, and you took in a sharp breath.

you let out a grunt as her hand moved under the waistband of your boxers, wrapping around your shaft, squeezing and stroking. "wait," you said, breaking the kiss. you pulled back a little and looked at her. "let me help you."

she bit her lip, nodding, letting go of your cock. you sat down on the bed, kicking your pants away, and watched as she slid off her own pants, her hips raising from the bed before lowering again.

doona had you in a spell, your eyes glued to her every movement; you wondered if she was aware of the effect she had on you. she was wearing a pair of black lace panties, which contrasted beautifully with her creamy skin. your gaze lingered on her breasts, which were covered by a coordinating bra.

she lay back down, her hair fanning out on the pillow. you couldn't stop staring.

"see something you like?" she teased.

you nodded, crawling back on top of her, afraid that any words that left your mouth would make her change her mind.

instead, you kissed her again, one hand cupping her cheek, the other sliding behind her back, deftly unclasping her bra. you felt her body shiver as you slid the straps off her shoulders, and the garment fell away, exposing her breasts.

"you're so beautiful," you murmured. she smiled, pulling you closer.

you lowered your head and began kissing her neck, working your way down to her breasts, licking and sucking on her nipples, making them harden under your touch. the soft sounds of her moans only encouraged you further, along with the grip she had on your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.

her hands tangled in your hair as she whispered, "don't stop."

you moved lower, kissing her stomach and then her thighs. anywhere your lips touched, she shivered with pleasure.

your fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, pulling them off her legs. you were staring at her now, more than ever, taking in her naked form, her body flushed and warm, her chest rising and falling as she breathed heavily, her eyes locked onto yours.

you moved forward, settling between her legs, spreading them open, your hands gripping her hips. "please," she whimpered. "i need you."

you pressed your face against her thigh, kissing it softly, your hands gripping her thighs firmly as you trailed kisses up towards her core. she arched her back, silently begging for more, her fingers tangling in your hair as she guided you closer to where she needed you most.

"stop being an ass," she whispered in frustration in her voice. "just give me what i want." you chuckled softly, then moved higher, your tongue finding her wet folds. her breath hitched, and her hand tightened in your hair, a low moan escaping her lips as you gave her exactly what she desired.

you lapped at her cunt, your tongue moving up and down her slit, tasting her. she was writhing beneath you, her back arching off the bed, her pulling at your hair so much it was starting to hurt. her moans grew louder, more desperate, "oh, god..." she moaned, her voice thick with arousal. "that feels so good."

you continued to lick her, your tongue sliding up and down her slit, teasing her, before you focused on her clit, flicking it with the tip of your tongue. she was panting now, her legs trying their hardest to trap your head between them as she bucked against your mouth.

"fuck... oh, fuck..." she was breathing hard, her moans increasing, her thighs squeezing tighter around your head. you knew she was about to cum, and you didn't want to disappoint her, so you quickened your pace, swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking on it gently. she let out a loud gasp, her legs tightening around your head, her back arching as she came hard.

her whole body shook with the force of her orgasm, her nails digging into the sheets beneath her as she rode out her pleasure. after a moment, her grip on you loosened, and she let out a long, content sigh.

you looked up at her, a smile on your lips, and she grinned back at you. "see," she said breathlessly. "i knew you could be a good girl." you wanted to roll your eyes and disregard the pet name, but your body's response was instantaneous, and you felt yourself grow twitch as the words escaped her lips.

you climbed up her body and kissed her, allowing her to taste herself on your lips. "do you want more?" you whispered against her lips, and she nodded. "i want you inside me."

you moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down as you pulled off your boxers, revealing your cock, fully erect, glistening with precum. the dark-haired girl smiled seductively as she crawled towards you, straddling your lap and guiding you inside her with a moan of pleasure.

the sensation of being enveloped by her warmth was overwhelming, and you both moaned in unison when doona's hip began moving achingly slow. she was trying to get a reaction out of you, and you were so lost in the moment that you could barely form a coherent thought.

your eyes left the sight of your member buried deep inside her to meet her intense gaze, your mouth agape and your hands gripping her hips tightly. "pretty," she muttered, her voice husky, kissing the outline of your jaw before trailing down your neck.

your mouth took in her breast, savoring the taste of her skin as she arched into your touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips. she started riding you faster, her hips rolling in a rhythm that was better than any song she had ever sung.

"doona," you managed to gasp out, your hands gripped her waist tightly, your mouth falling against her shoulder, trying to contain yourself.

you didn't know what the two of you were going to be after this, if she would continue playing that stupid game she loved so much, if you could just stay as friends, or if you could somehow get closer, but for now, none of that mattered. all that mattered was her and her soft body.

her hands dug into your hair, and you buried your face in her neck, breathing in her scent. her pussy felt so tight and wet, and you groaned against her neck, your teeth biting at her skin. she started moving faster, and you knew she was close. a loud whine left her throat, and her fingers tightened in your hair, yanking you back to look at her.

"y/n," she whined. "fuck, please. are you close?"

you nodded.

"fuck, baby. you feel so good. come with me, y/n. please." you reached down and circled her clit with your thumb, and her mouth dropped open, her head thrown back as her entire body tensed, her pussy tightening around your dick, pulling you over the edge with her. you groaned, pressing your face into her neck as your cum filled her.

she collapsed on top of you, and the two of you caught your breath.

[illbegottenfaith]

can I take your order?

you get off on the wrong foot with the new barista at your hometown's coffee shop, but even your off-putting behaviour isn't enough to deter him (theo nott x reader)

a/n - a little birthday gift from me to myself! this was inspired by an episode of fresh off the boat season 4. I dont usually like coffee shop au's but they do make for a fun silly little drabble :)

warnings/tropes - coffee shop au, one-sided reluctant acquaintances to lovers(?), fluff, petty!reader

word count - 2.8k

In hindsight, your first clue should have been the unfamiliar, deep, masculine voice coming from the figure crouched behind the counter. You walked into the coffee shop, the familiar bell jangling warmly.

"Just a minute!"

Strange, you had thought. Elaise sounds rather different. And like the utter idiot you were, you settled on one of most nonsensical conclusions anyone could have drawn - she must have a sore throat. Poor Elaise.

The figure straightened, heaving a box of individually wrapped candy canes onto the counter, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

“Hello. Can I take your order?”

You gaped at the new, unfamiliar barista. His hair fell appealingly across his forehead in soft, silky curls. His cheeks were rosy with the warmth of the cosy shop, and you distantly took note of how becoming the flush looked on him. That, and how adorably put-together he looked on what was clearly his first day on the job, with his neatly rolled-up sleeves and pristine apron.

You, on the other hand, were bundled up in an absurd amount of woollens and jackets, your pinched face desperately lacking any colour or sign of life.

In your defense, you typically looked much more normal. It was just that you could not, for the life of you, find your coat that morning, which may or may not have to do with the fact that you had only haphazardly unpacked half your trunk (you had precious few days away from Hogwarts - you weren't going to spend half of one unpacking and another half packing again.).

Since you could not find your coat, you had made a guess (a rather poor one, you were quickly realising) at how many layers you needed to pile on to avoid catching your death in the brisk chill outside. By the time you stepped outside, you were sweating under the sweltering layers. But the only thing more stupid than bundling yourself in an obscene number of layers was wasting time peeling those layers off, and so you waddled down your driveway with what was left of your dignity.

Besides, on a cold day like this, it wasn't like you were going to run into anyone. Only Elaise down at the coffee shop, someone you could laugh about this with.

Someone you could not laugh about this with, you decided, was the equally stunned stranger of a barista in front of you. It was warm, very warm, inside the coffee shop. With your lucky, you'd somehow manage to sweat through all of your layers. Could he tell you were wearing too many? Was it obvious? Oh, God, between your layers and the overthinking you wer going to overheat. But you couldn't remove any of them, because then it would be obvious, because then he would know -

That was when you made the brilliant observation that he was staring at you just as much as you were staring at him. There was the faintest sheen of sweat along the bridge of his unfairly well-constructed nose. Your gaze slipped down to the box of candy canes he had just pulled out and, with considerable difficulty, willed yourself to tear your eyes away from him. Honestly, what he was doing in a coffee shop in the middle of nowhere with forearms like those?

This was getting ridiculous, you fumed. He was just as out of breath as you, even if it was for entirely different reasons. Why did he get to look so roguishly dishevelled, while you...actually, you didn't want to think about how you looked. His lips were parted and his brow was lightly furrowed. Maybe, if you were clever about this, you could convince him that this was all just a fevered hallucination the both of you shared.

Too late.

He was moving his mouth, and from the way his eyes were fixed on your outermost ugly Christmas sweater (that you had worn ironically. Ironically. You were not destitute in the clothing department.), you were sure he had nothing constructive to say.

So you did what any rational human being would do - turn around and leave.

"And then you just...left? Without saying anything?"

You sealed the last of the cardboard boxes. "He was very off-putting."

Whatever. Ivy hadn't been there. It's not like she would know that you had been the off-putting one.

The two of you were sorting through the boxes cluttering your dreary attic. It had taken up the better part of your morning, but at least you were finally done. Ivy tucked away the last box, wiping her hands down her pants.

"You know what I could really go for right now? A vanilla latte."

You put down the label maker, narrowing your eyes at your friend. "Ivy."

"With a light dusting of cinnamon on top."

"We can't go there," you protested. "We have to stay away from the place until Elaise comes back. If she comes back. You know, out of solidarity?"

What you meant was, you couldn't show your face there again after yesterday. Really, what were you thinking, walking out without so much as a word? He probably thought you weren't right in the head. Although, you thought bitterly, maybe he wasn't far off.

"Oh, relax. She's talked about going out of town to visit her family for ages now. Don't her grandparents live in Minnesota? Besides," Ivy picked up your coats, tossing you yours, "I have to see the guy my best friend is so down bad for."

Your tongue suddenly felt too thick for your mouth. "I'm not down bad for him. Why would you think I'm down bad for him?"

"Y/N, you spent the last half hour talking about his hands."

You scoffed. "Uh, yeah, about how stupid they look, with all those stupid veins and that stupid bone structure."

The whole way there, you came up with more and more excuses to avoid the coffee shop, each one more desperate and ridiculous than the last. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to work.

The two of you walked in, and you were briefly soothed by the comforting aroma of roasted coffee beans. Ivy gave the barista a warm smile. "Hello." Traitor.

"Hi. What can I get you?"

He didn't look as fresh-faced as yesterday, but god was he still devastatingly attractive. You tried to focus on what Ivy was saying.

"I'll have a vanilla latte with cinammon on top."

"And you?"

You opened your mouth. You wanted to tell him your order; really, you did. But for some strange, inexplicable reason, your mind went blank. What did you want? The silence stretched awkwardly. You felt your face heat up. Your throat felt dry. Eventually, Ivy - wonderful, fantastic, heaven-sent Ivy - cleared her throat delicately.

"She'll have a hot chocolate with whipped cream and a hazelnut drizzle. Say, Elaise used to work here, didn't she?"

The barista glanced up at Ivy. "Hm? Oh, yes. She's just out of town for the holidays."

"Minnesota?"

"I think so."

Ivy gave you a knowing look. You scowled at her and looked away, only to see the barista watching you with an odd expression, as if a smile were tugging at his lips. You hurriedly straightened your face, fixing your gaze on the bottles of syrup behind him as he went back to taking the order.

"Could I get your names?"

"Ivy and..." She prodded you in the ribs. You stayed resolutely silent, your eyes only slightly watering from the jab. "...and Y/N," she finished.

Ivy paid, and the two of you found a table in the middle of the shop to wait at. You couldn't stop kicking yourself over the interaction. That was twice you'd made a fool of yourself in front of him now. Once your drinks were ready, Ivy fetched them. When she handed you yours, you turned the cup around in your hand. It felt like any other drink. You turned it a little more and your heart skipped a beat. There was your name scrawled in black ink, and at the end was a slightly untidy, yet unmistakable, heart.

"Aww," Ivy crooned, peeking over, "he likes you."

"Shut up," you mumbled, trying to hide your burning face. Still, when she wasn't looking, you ran a thumb over his writing, memorising every careless flick of his marker.

There had to be something wrong with him. No one was that perfect.

"What am I looking at?" Matteo asked drily, as you stood outside the coffee shop the next day. A couple of your friends were spending Christmas in the area, and you had managed to drag a couple of them down here. The person you really wanted there was Matteo, someone to validate your (diminishing) distaste for the guy. Sometimes you felt like he was the only one who understood your mistrustful nature. You vaguely stabbed at the direction of the barista, who was busily whipping up a drink, through the cafe's window with your mittened hands.

"There. That guy."

"What about him?"

"How much money are you willing to bet on him being a serial killer?"

That was when Matteo started laughing, and it was a long while before anyone could get him to stop.

"I don’t think Matteo was the right person to ask," Ivy said, patting your arm sympathetically once all of you had bundled inside the shop.

"Obviously not," you said bitterly. "He’d gamble his trust fund away for shits and giggles."

Your gaze wandered over to the counter where the others were still ordering. The barista's pencil wasn't moving on his writing pad, and Matteo actually seemed interested in whatever he was saying. Typical. Don't! you wanted to yell. He's the enemy!

"Have a nice little chitchat?" you asked witheringly once the guys returned with their drinks.

"Hey, I was only trying to scope out if he was a - what did you say? Right, a serial killer."

You rolled your eyes. It was starting to get annoying, how everyone couldn't help but love the guy.

"I miss Elaise," you grumbled, taking a sip of your drink. As you set your drink back down, you glanced back at the counter to see the barista once again watching you. You stiffened. What was he looking at? Did you have something on your face? You did have something on your face! You hurriedly wiped off the whipped cream above your upper lip and on the tip of your nose with the back of your hand. But he still wasn't looking away. His eyes dipped down to your drink. Mystified, you followed his gaze, looking more closely at your cup.

There was a cartoonish Christmas tree etched on the side with a speech bubble coming out of its mouth.

Why did the Christmas tree go to the dentist?

You rotated the cup.

It needed a root canal.

A talking Christmas tree. A talking Christmas tree going to the dentist. How ridiculous, you thought. You laughed suddenly, startling your friends. You didn't know why you were nearly It was so stupid that it circled back to being funny. Noticing your friends curiously watching you, you hurriedly rotated the cup, shielding the doodle with your palm. You waved away their questioning glances, and slowly the conversation resumed.

You glanced back at the barista, eyes bright with mirth, watching him take someone else's order. Sure, it was a stupid joke, but it was your kind of stupid joke.

Ever since that first day when you walked out without saying a word, Theo had watched you return to the coffee shop day after day, bringing more and more backup. Today, he had to duck behind the milk steaming station when he spotted your table as he emerged from the back. Impressively, you had managed to squeeze an entire party of seven around a table for two, complete with everyone’s puffy winter coats. As you had discovered a few days ago, that table was the perfect vantage point to spy on the goings-on at the counter.

Today, he approached your table with his familiar writing pad and pencil. "I thought it might be easier if I came to all of you instead of the other way around."

One by one, your friends rattled off their orders.

"Vanilla latte, cinammon on top. Y/N?"

It was your turn. You met his eyes. His striking, crisp blue eyes. Fuck. You felt your thoughts start slipping from your mind again.

"I know," he started saying, "hot chocolate with whipped cream and a caramel drizzle on top."

"Hazelnut."

"Hm?"

Everyone was staring at you. That had just come out of your mouth, hadn't it? Your throat felt scratchy. You didn't think you could string two words together, but somehow, you managed.

"It's not a caramel drizzle," you forced out clumsily, hyperaware of your scarlet face. "It's hazelnut."

Then, oh so subtly, in a way you would have missed it if you hadn't been watching his face so closely, his mouth curved into an undeniable smirk.

You looked around your circle of friends to see if anyone had noticed, but they had been too busy watching you. You looked back at him. The smirk was gone, but the polite graciousness in his eyes as he murmured an apology and walked away didn't fool you.

Ivy patted you on the back, but you shrugged her away. You were too busy fuming. He tricked you. He tricked you. Who did he think he was, manipulating his way into getting you to say two words to him? Before anyone realised what you were doing, including yourself, you were standing up and walking over to the counter with a more than indignant air.

"I bet you think you were real slick with that, huh?"

"With what?" he asked smoothly, completely unfazed as he continued with the drink he was making. Unfazed enough to make you suspect this was what he had planned all along.

"You know. You knew it was hazelnut."

He gave you what anyone else might have mistaken for an innocent smile, but you knew better. "Did I?"

"Yes, and frankly, it's almost insulting to think I wouldn't have picked up o-"

He set down the cup he had been writing on. It was only then that you realised it was your drink.

"Hot chocolate. Whipped cream. Hazelnut drizzle."

You blinked, having lost your train of thought. You hesitantly picked the cup up and walked back to your table.

Your friends were too engrossed in their conversations to notice you returning. You turned your cup, looking for today's doodle. Except, there was no doodle - only your name messily scrawled without so much as a heart. It was legible, but barely.

You bit your lip, trying to stave off the stinging disappointment rushing in. It hurt to know that you had been right all along, that he didn't really fancy you. As for the hurried scribble, who could blame him? He had a good seven or so drinks to make. He was in a rush, he couldn't be wasting time doodling on every single cup.

You looked up, making eye contact with Ivy sitting opposite you. You shook your head, gesturing to your drink. Only, when she glanced at your cup, her eyes widened dramatically. Frowning, you spun the cup around, and you nearly choked.

561-555-7689

"Um, I'm going to get some air," you mumbled to no one in particular, dazed, as you exited the shop with your drink. You looked at the digits on the cup again, repeating them over and over again in your head till you had them memorised. Should you? No, you didn't want to come off as desperate. Unless...no. No. You weren't that pathetic.

Oh, who were you kidding? You had made a complete arse of yourself in front of him. What reason did he have to actually give you his number?

"Hello?"

You were stunned speechless. It worked. He picked up. And you knew it was him, because you could see him on the phone through the window, wiping a hand on his apron as he raised his eyebrows at you.

"...hi." You shook yourself, turning away. It was easier if you didn't have to acknowledge who you were talking to. "Sorry. You're working now, obviously. I just didn't think you'd give me your real number."

"Why would I give you a fake number?"

You could imagine the corner of his lip quirking up into that slightly asymmetrical smile of his. Everything you did seemed to amuse him. You shrugged, laughing weakly. "I don't know. For some kind of sick joke?"

"I thought you liked my jokes."

You scrunched your nose. He had you there.

You called him again that night, once you were sure his shift would have ended. And the night after that, and the night after that, and every night for the rest of the holidays.

[spnbabe67]

Just a Note

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of a little spicyness, mentions of injuries

Summary: When you start receiving little notes around the Bunker, you go on a hunt trying to find your secret admirer.

Word Count: 1600

Authors Note: This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa for @kazsrm67. This also fulfills squares for @jacklesversebingo and @anyfandomgoesbingo Happy Holidays everyone!

Jacklesverse Bingo Prompt: Secret Admirer

Any Fandom Goes Bingo Prompt: Head Wound

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tag List: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @king-of-milf-lovers

It started out as sticky notes placed strategically in places across the Bunker where only you would find them: on the mirror in your room, or on the stack of books you kept sequestered to a table in the corner of the library room. Various colors of square paper with little compliments, albeit a little awkward, scrawled across them. The first time you’d found one, a blue square tucked into the cubby where you kept your bug-out bag in the armory, you’d been caught off guard. The neon, stark against the muted brown and black and grey tones, had caught your eye as you went about replacing and checking the supplies you kept within your duffel. You plucked the paper from where it was nestled amongst the various weapons and supplies kept within, sitting in wait for the next hunt. As you gingerly pulled the sticky note from your bag, you noticed the scrawling words written across it in black ink. 

You look sharper than these knives.

Your head cocked to the side, face contorted into a mixture of confusion and amusement. Was that meant to be a compliment? More importantly, who was it from? Aside from yourself, Sam and Dean both took up permanent residence in the Men of Letters Bunker. Charlie, your childhood best friend and the person who introduced you to the Winchester brothers and the hunting world in general also lived here 90% of the time. It could be here playing one of her many pranks. A few other hunters used this place as refuge between hunts or came here for the endless trove of supernatural knowledge archived within its walls. You’d even convinced Dean, despite his best efforts to ignore your pleas, to host a couple seminars and training sessions for newer (and seasoned) hunters using the knowledge you and Sam spent hours upon hours organizing. 

“When I was first introduced to this world, I wish I’d had this kind of training available to me,” You’d reasoned with him one day in the kitchen. “I’d have a lot less scars and a lot less near death experiences if I had.”

The eldest Winchester, whom you’d grown close to in the months you’d worked with him, Sam, and the cabal of supernatural beings that they considered friends or at the very least occasional allies, leaned against the island with a mug of freshly brewed coffee in hand.

“I’m not sayin’ it’s a bad thing, Sweetheart.” Dean placated you, setting his mug on the counter. “All I’m sayin’ is that there’s more to it than just puttin’ flyers on the street. How would we even advertise somethin’ like this?” 

You shrugged. “You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

And figure it out he had. With the help of Charlie and Sam, the four of you managed to create a strategically worded ad, spreading it to known hunters who would even be remotely interested. It had spread like wildfire from there. So it was very possible one of the hunters passing through had put it in your bag. Even that explanation didn’t quite fit, but at the time it was a one-off, a fluke to never happen again.

That was until another one showed up. You’d taken a blow to the head when a rogue shifter slammed you back into a wall, knocking you unconscious. Blearily you opened your eyes to the dim light of the Bunker’s infirmary. A dull ache throbbed at the back of your head as you looked around. The room was kept mostly dark save for a lamp in the corner. I must have a concussion, you thought as you sat up, the crisp white sheets crumpled on your lap. You had reached over to check the clock on the table next to the bed when you saw yet another Post-it stuck to the top of it. The paper was red this time, but the writing held the same characteristics of the first one. 

You take my breath away.

Your eyes must have read the sentence a hundred times over, wracking your brain trying to figure out who in the Hell is leaving you these messages. Some rational part of you whispered there were really only two options. Sam or Dean. You knew it wasn’t Sam; your relationship with the younger brother was strictly familial. You’d never seen him as anything other than a younger brother, despite his protests that he was only 6 months younger than you. 

Dean on the other hand was a different story. Sometimes he acted like you were another younger sibling for him to be responsible for, other times the tension between the two of you could be cut with the dullest knife. Lingering eyes as the three of you changed between or after hunts, his fingers trailing over your hair and tucking it behind your ear when he assumed you were dead asleep. You’d be lying if he was the only one giving mixed signals. It made sense. To anyone who didn’t know him, Dean was a casanova, a womanizer who took what he wanted and offered nothing. And sure, maybe he was that way in his early 20’s, but life and the work of a hunter had taken a toll on him. So while you and Sam partook in one night stands, it was Dean who usually ended the night alone. 

You found the notes enduring, actually, and very in character for him. So from that moment in the infirmary, you compiled the notes and the occasional small gifts left for you. Once you were sure it was, in fact, Dean showering you in corny one liners and sweet nothings, you hatched a plan. You figured there were a couple ways to go about it. One: confront him head on, which he very well might deny all together in embarrassment. Two: let the notes continue to pile up, hopefully bottlenecking Dean into coming to you personally. Or three: beat him at his own game. Out of all of them, the third sounded the most fun.

Like a game of tag, the next time it was your turn to go on the supply run, you stopped by a Dollar Tree and grabbed a stack of Post-its. Unfortunately, they only had the plain and frankly ugly yellow ones, but they’d do. If you played your cards right, you shouldn’t need too many of them anyway. You snuck around the Bunker for nearly a week, leaving the Post-its in inconspicuous places as Dean had. The first one you’d left next to the decanter of water he kept by his bedside, calling him a tall drink of water. The next one was slid under his disassembled 1911 when he went to take a break. You giggled to yourself as you positioned it, reading the line you’d printed on it. Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

On the 7th day with no response from Dean, no change in behavior when the three (or four when Charlie came for dinner) of you went on hunts or stuck around the Bunker, you had started to lose hope. Maybe it was someone else and you’d read into the situation completely wrong. But something in your gut told you that you were barking up the right tree. Give it one last try, it seemed to say. So one last try it was. You’d know once and for all if it was Dean. You wrote the message that started it all on a sticky note, making sure Dean was in the kitchen before slinking off to the armory. All of you kept at least one bingo bag here, the main thing was finding which one was Dean’s. He kept his main pack in his room or in Baby’s trunk so it took some rooting around until you found the right one. 

Just as you unzipped the bag, poised to place the sticky note against the blade of one of Dean’s hunting knives, a voice called out your name from behind you. You froze, your lips pressing into a thin line as a small cheeky smile started to form. You stood up, turning around to see Dean leaning against the door jam.

“Whatcha doin’ Sweetheart?” He asked innocently, but his tone and the smug look on his face was anything but.

“Nothin’.” You mumbled, suddenly a little sheepish. The plan didn’t involve you getting caught red handed. “You weren't supposed to catch me.”

“Figured as much.” He joked, crossing the space between you, plucking the Post-it from your hand, his fingers brushing against your own in a way that made your heart flutter a little faster than it already was. 

“Asshole.” You huffed equally as teasing,watching him look at the sticky note, reading your chicken scratch. 

You were both silent as Dean’s eyes met yours, his cheeks tinged a bit pink. You were sure your own were as well as you suddenly felt the urge to hide from his observing gaze. 

“So,” Dean breathed. “What now?”

Ever the gentleman, you thought. Giving you the option to back out, to deny this thing between you both even though he’d quite literally caught you leaving a flirtatious note in his bag. You let your hand drift forward, hesitantly finding his own. You intertwined your fingers, feeling his callouses brush your own as you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I think now, you need to start sayin’ those things to me in person, not just on paper.” You gave him a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart.”

[marypaol]

My Hurt, My Hurt

Harry James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Reader overhears Harry saying something hurtful. And words hurt.

Warnings: Crying, gossiping about others, mentions of eyes being puffy (I don’t know lol), angst, one bad word.

Note: For the lovely @pottermagiczz for requesting! I really hope you like it!

It wasn’t on purpose, the accidental occurrence of being right outside of the room where the conversation was taking place.

But her feet had taken her there, looking for her lost Potions book that she had perhaps left there previously. It was then where she heard murmuring, the voice of two teenage boys discussing something over hushed tones.

As an average person would, the curiosity brewing in her chest got the best of her, and, her Potions book slowly being forgotten, leaned her ear towards the room, trying to catch even a few words they were saying.

Fortunately for her, she quickly discovered that one of those voices were Ron Weasley, and it is common knowledge to know he’s not such a good whisperer.

“So you don’t like her?”

“Shh Ron! Not so loud, will ya?”

The owner of the second voice was obviously Harry Potter himself. She figured such since she often heard Snape call him out while she was working, and she started to recognize the voice without glancing upwards; plus she, as everyone else as well, quickly figured out Snape had a disliking for Potter.

“So you do?” Ron asked urgently, breaking the girl out of her thoughts about Potions, her mind once again slowly forgetting her book that was probably on the table right in front of where they were talking.

“No I don’t. She’s crazy, Ron. Always talking about him. I tried to talk about something else, but she just started crying.”

The girl would’ve heard a undisturbed laugh, but what she heard instead was Ron muffling it with his hands, somehow making it sound more obvious of his chuckles.

Her heart squeezed with anxiety. She recalled a moment, a moment where she didn’t want to remember, but her brain brought it to the front of her mind anyway, pushing it into her thoughts despite her protests.

It started with a sweet Hufflepuff boy she encountered, resulting in blushing cheeks and brushing shoulders. Their lips have locked and their hands have intertwined. But even by a couple months he locked lips with another girl in what they thought was an abandoned corridor, her teary eyes being the next thing he saw when he heard a sniffle.

He tried to explain, tried to gain her broken heart’s pieces back together, but it was no use. So she was left broken and teary-eyed, running through the halls before bumping into Potter, his flustered face turning scarlet out of surprise and embarrassment when he saw she was crying.

He had comforted her that day, warm arms she always dreamed of being in wrapping around her shoulders. She observed from a far that when he hugged friends after Quidditch games, he often placed his face in their neck, and he was doing just that. His nose tickled her skin, his soft breathing brushing it. His lips were something she would always remember, for his mouth was touching her shoulder. She remembered shivering in the best way, but she hoped he took it as she was shaking from the endless sobs that were previously escaping her. But as soon as he wrapped his arms around her, as soon as his lips touched her skin, as soon as his heartbeat was beating in her ears, the sobs ceased.

Was he talking about her? The moment where he held her at her most vulnerable state, the moment he provided her so much comfort that she believed nothing could hurt her again. He could’ve been taking about anyone else in the school, for there was so many girls they could be discussing.

But only one girl he comforted while she was sobbing over a break up with a boy. And that was her.

So yeah, it burned, it burned when he talked about that moment like it was nothing, like the comfort he provided her was fake. Did he even care? Why would he be annoyed by her hurt? Why would he be annoyed when her heart was crushing by the second, watching as her hands fumbled with the pieces as he held her?

And something else burned, besides her chest that was trying by the second to stay together, and that was her eyes, for the tears were brimming her lids.

Her vision got blurry. And yet she stayed, her brain telling herself that he had more to say, more words to destroy her with before she finally walked away.

And she was right, painfully, for Harry wasn’t done yet.

“Why was she crying?” Ron asked. She could hear Harry’s eye roll in his voice, annoyance dripping from his words.

“It’s obvious, Ron. He isn’t with her anymore.”

“Right.” Ron muttered. “Well didn’t she have the right to be sad?”

She peaked just enough to see Harry shrug. “I mean I guess but it was so awkward- like go cry to someone else, please. Plus she ruined my robes with snot.”

It wasn’t just the words that hurt, but the tone in the boy’s voice. He sounded done, annoyed even. But why would he decide to comfort her when he was gonna later go and make of it?

She backed away from the door, eyes burning with the very tears he just ridiculed. She faintly heard Ron bid goodnight, his heavy steps going up to the boys’ dorm once Harry said the same thing.

She was sure she heard Harry’s footsteps as well, squeaky shoes from rainy Quidditch practice going up the stairs, following Ron.

She entered the Common Room then, eyes blurred as she spotted her Potions book on the table. She gripped it in her fingers, almost like she was giving it her pain before practically sprinting up the stairs to her own dorm, a sob wedged in her chest the whole way up.

As soon as she entered the room the noise was let out, the pain in her chest far worse than it was that night in his arms. She sat on her bed, hugging a pillow as if it would take her heart ache.

She thought Harry cared about people other than his friends. She thought he was nice. Maybe the popularity around Hogwarts just made him careless. She didn’t know the reason, but all she knew was that she was planning on never talking to Harry again.

It’s not like he would care anyway, right?

Her eyes were red the next morning. Which was something she hated, but she had to deal with it. She could’ve simply put her wand to her face and casted a spell to get rid of it, but she recalled an occurrence where a girl in Hufflepuff did that only to have such puffy eyes she couldn’t see for two days; even the nurse took forever to get the swelling down.

But, to her fortune, they swelled down a little bit by the time it was breakfast.

She sat in her usual spot, the one no one else sits at, away from everyone else.

Yes, it as her Fourth Year at Hogwarts and her she still didn’t really have any friends. Sure, she was on good terms with Hermione and Ginny, but they didn’t speak to her often, mainly focused on Harry.

Harry.

They spoke quite a lot since the encounter in the corridor, her crying in his arms. He would stop by her dorm steps and walk her to class, walk by her in the corridors and catching up on the latest news.

But ever since last night she wanted to break that bond, for now she thought differently of the boy. She wouldn’t lie though, she did miss talking to him. She missed the smile he would give her in the mornings, and the soft giggles they would share in Potions class, making fun of how Snape’s nose looked abnormally large that morning.

But it was all over.

She thought he cared about her.

Was all those exchanged giggles and smiles for nothing? Just a cruel joke to him when to her they meant everything?

She ended up not being able to eat that morning, for the swirling in her stomach from Harry’s words kept her from doing so.

She kept her head down most of the meal, not wanting to make accidental eye contact with anyone so they could see her partly red eyes.

It wasn’t until her ears picked up on the sound of feet stepping toward her that she looked up.

Only to meet green eyes the color of freshly grown spring grass.

She almost flinched at the sudden company, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Why did he want to talk to her? He just made fun of her, now he’s gonna act like he cares?

His lips parted and closed like a fish for a couple seconds, them just staring at one another before he spoke. “Hi.”

His voice was shaky but he didn’t stutter.

She cleared her throat, embarrassed that he probably could see her red eyes. “Hello, Harry.”

She mentally cursed him for looking so good today. He didn’t look any different than the other times she’s seen him, realistically, but maybe the fact that she planned not to talk to him her mind highlighted all his good features.

His glasses framed his eyes exceptionally perfect, cheeks flushed and eyes darting too and fro every couple seconds.

Damn it Harry, why do you have to be so cute?

She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

He swayed on his feet, putting his weight on one leg then the other. His eyebrows shot up as if he was surprised at her question before putting himself together and replying.

“W-” his throat cleared. “Why aren’t you talking to me anymore?”

She almost was thrown back by his answer. He couldn’t be serious.

But the hopeless tone in his voice proved her otherwise, like he genuinely wanted to know. The way his eyes were so wide in confusion and wonder behind his glasses, wondering why she was avoiding him.

Obviously he didn’t know she was outside the Common Room during his complaints towards her, but why did his confusion and slight hurt look so genuine?

She cleared her throat, both to make her voice not crack and clear her running questions in her mind. “I think it’s quite obvious, Harry.”

His confusion only got deeper and more expressive, eyebrows furrowing and forehead ceasing in thought. “I’m afraid I do not follow….”

She suddenly felt a spur of anger towards the boy before her, own eyebrows scrunching in frustration. “Don’t act like you don’t know, Harry. Don’t act like what you said wouldn’t have any effect on me whatsoever.”

“What I said?” He questioned, face showing even deeper confusion. “I didn’t say anything about you, not anything negative that is.”

“Oh don’t lie,” she found herself blurting out. “I heard you saying that I was annoying and that you wanted me to drool all over someone else-”

“Woah,” he interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing her arm oh so gently. He then let a light-hearted laugh escape his lips, unknowingly to him only raising the anger inside her.

“What’s so funny?” She demanded, trying to rip her arm out of his grip but failing to do so.

“Love,” he started softly, sitting down beside the girl and finally letting go of her arm, leaning his elbow on the table in front of them. He then faced her, face showing so much genuine feelings that she had trouble staying angry with him, so much so that she felt the snarl on her lips falling into a slight frown.

He then tapped her leg to bring back her attention to him, as if her brain wasn’t already crowded with thoughts of the black-headed boy. “Did you even hear your name within the conversation?” He asked gently, a teasing glint in his eyes.

She scoffed, like the answer was obvious, but now that she thought about it she couldn’t quite place hearing her name in their discussion, for he just used pronouns. But that didn’t make the possibility of them discussing her any less.

“Well, no, but that doesn’t mean-”

He sighed, shushing her softly. “Yes it does, because I wasn’t even talking about you. I was talking about..” he then hesitated, almost like the actual person he was gossiping about was watching him over his shoulder. “I was talking about Cho.”

The girl’s eyes widened, subconsciously spotting forward on the bench of the table closer to him. “But I was crying and you comforted me,” she protested, still trying to convince herself that she was the person he was talking bad about. But Cho? What had she done to Harry to make him talk so negatively about her?

“So did Cho,” Harry started. “Sobbing about Cedric. And I know that it was a valid reason to be crying about, but it was awkward because we aren’t that close, and she ruined my freshly cleaned robes.”

The girl couldn’t help it, she let out a tiny giggle at not only the fact that Harry was complaining about his robes, but the face he made. He looked like he genuinely felt bad for talking bad about the Ravenclaw, yet deep down he really wasn’t sorry; his expression of showing it was too funny not to laugh at.

“Hey, I feel kinda bad now, okay?” Harry attempted to protest, but he still had a curved corner to his lips.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she assured. “I’m glad you weren’t talking about me, because I would definitely missed talking to you.”

Harry’s cheeks dusted pink which made her admire him more than usual, his shoulders curving into his neck to attempt to hide himself.

“I just wanted to let you know,” Harry’s voice suddenly went lower, in a quiet whisper that she had to slightly lean in to hear him. “That I don’t at all regret what I did to comfort you, and that I care about your feelings. And that I would never to anything to intentionally harm them.”

It was the girl’s turn to have flushed cheeks, for she could feel them burning her face up at that very moment. Her heart fluttered at the praise and the love that flooded his words. She felt warm all over, her chest fuzzy with emotion as she shyly looked away from him. “Thanks, Harry. That means a lot to me. And that goes for me as well, I care about your feelings too.”

Harry smiled, something she wanted to see every second of her life. His eyes crinkled beneath his glasses, happiness flooding his features and she could feel her cheeks warming, all because of the boy in front of her.

“Do you think that we can forget this misunderstanding and start over?” She asked almost shyly, like she was embarrassed for assuming their discussions were about her.

Harry eagerly nodded, making her chuckle, and they shook hands to seal their promise.

Let’s just say that those intertwined hands didn’t separate until they got to their next class, for they were afraid Snape would ridicule them at their public forms of affection.

[muwapsturniolo]

Brutus 2 🦇 Chris sturniolo

"O-one hun-hundred and fif-fifteen times...." PT 1

NSFW AHEAD!!! mentions of murder, stabbing, assault (not detailed!!!), alcohol, blowjobs/face fucking, facials, cum eating, rough sex, biting, cream pies, choking, switch! Chris, Matt is a perv

The police still couldn’t figure out what happened on the final night of Halloween horror nights. It’s been a month and the gruesome murders were still unsolved and left everyone scratching their head. The police took the right measures, they taped off the crime scene for weeks on end, rewatched the CCTV footage, and questioned the crew and attendees.

But they came up empty-handed.

They couldn’t figure out who committed the crime or why they did it.

But she knew.

When she was questioned, the police showing up at her door with her discarded tweed purse, she lied and said she didn’t see anything. Claimed she barely remembers that night due to the alcohol she consumed on the premises.

She knew it was wrong to lie to authority, to take away the possibility of a grieving family to finally have peace and to know the killer is behind bars. She knew if anyone found out what she did they would call her insane and probably throw her six feet under a jail - She didn’t want that.

She was lying to cover her own ass and the nameless killers, and she’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Especially if it meant they would continue watching her.

It was only a couple of days after that night when she felt as if she was being watched. She had just gotten out of the shower and walked into her bedroom to put on her pajamas when she noticed the clothes were on the floor.

That isn't where she left them.

She vividly remembered placing them neatly at the foot of her bed, folded and ready to throw on. Now they were thrown onto the floor in a mess, and her panties were missing.

Fear should have settled into her body, but instead, she proceeded to get dressed right in front of the open window.

With that being said, she went about her life as if nothing happened, as if she wasn't being stalked by two psychopaths.

Her routine never changed.

Weeks had gone by, minutes, hours - two months to be exact. She had given up the little bit of hope that those two would make an appearance. Honestly, she had forgotten about them until a Christmas party had gone wrong.

Her friends had forced her to attend, shoving her into a powder blue satin dress and a pair of silver heels to match. soon, she was at the party, standing in the corner with a frown on her face.

She wasn't having a good time. Her friends had ditched her as soon as they made it to the club, this guy who was completely wasted wouldn't leave her alone, and she was hot.

Deciding that she was over it and needed some air, she found her friends and told them she was leaving. She walked away, ignoring their drunken protests, and pulled out her phone, attempting to order an Uber.

It seemed like she didn't have any luck, the cellular device having no type of signal. With a huff she begins walking down the street, not noticing the two people following her.

"This is so stupid! This is the last time I let them drag me to a dumb party an-" A small scream escapes her mouth as she's pushed into an alley, her phone falling from her hands. Her body collides with a trash can, preventing her from falling into the muddy puddles of water from the melted snow.

She's soon shoved against the wall, the streetlamps casting a shadow over her attacker's face. She didn't need lights to know who the person was, the rancid smell of alcohol was enough.

It was the same man from the party, he had followed her out.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get off of me!" She shouts in annoyance, trying to push him off. It was odd, the way she was completely sober and had better coordination should have given her the strength to push him away. But to no avail, he proceeded to force himself upon her, slurring his words in the process.

Just as his hand goes up her dress, he's yanked away and tackled to the ground, her savior immediately throwing punches.

She stays frozen against the wall, too shocked to even register what's happening.

A glimmer of light snaps her back into reality.

She watches as her savior raises his arm, a knife in hand.

She watches as the blade is plunged into her attacker's chest, his screams slowly drowning out as he chokes on his own blood. She watches her savior continuously bring the knife down, not stopping until he's satisfied.

His actions begin to slow, his breathing heavy as he slumps back, staring at the lifeless body underneath him.

She takes a hesitant step forward, freezing when her savior turns to her.

She already knew, but the mask adorning his face confirmed it.

Her savior was the same man from that night, the same masked man who was ready to kill her before being scared away by his partner in crime.

His wild and deranged eyes soften as they connect with hers, his breathing calming down.

They say nothing, the only sound being heard is the flurries of snow rushing past them.

She slowly approaches, holding her hand out before speaking softly, "Come on, let's go."

He looks down at her hand before standing up, towering over her. He points towards her discarded phone, his silence-speaking words. She nods and rushes over to her phone, bending down to grab it. She huffs seeing the cracked screen, cursing out the dead man in her head. Just as she begins to wipe the phone off, she hears a loud bang.

She whips around and sees both the masked savior and the dead body gone, her brows slowly creasing.

Where did they go? How did they disappear so quick?

Her thoughts are interrupted by a hand landing on her shoulder. She jumps in surprise and turns around to see the masked savior in front of her.

"Jesus Christ, " she covers her chest as her heart begins to beat quickly. She swears she heard him snicker softly, but before she could question him, he wrapped his hand around her arm and dragged her down the street.

In reality, she knows she should be scared and questioning him, but she stays silent, allowing him to guide her to wherever they are going. They soon arrive in front of a beat-up pickup truck, parts of the car rusting as snow sits in the bed.

He opens the passenger door and looks at her expectantly. She peers inside the truck, noticing the mess inside. The cans of Pepsi discarded on the floor, the wrappers from candy, the smell of cigarettes, and most importantly,

The small bloodstains on the seats.

She looks back at him, noticing the soft look in his eyes.

"You want me to get in?"

He nods, still refusing to speak.

"Are you taking me home?"

He nods once more.

"Do you know where I live?"

He tenses, the grip he has on her arm tightening. It's almost as if he's scared, scared of being caught for stalking. Scared she's going to scream, run away, reject him.

She snickers softly seeing the fear in his eyes, it's a bit ironic.

She says nothing, simply climbing into the truck and buckling herself in.

"Come on, I miss my bed."

With that, he closes the door and climbs into the car himself, quickly starting the engine and driving off. She watches silently as he drives down familiar streets, having driven down them herself whenever she's on her way home.

The car ride was filled with silence, it wasn't tense if anything, it was calming, the both of them relaxed.

They soon arrive and he kills the engine, staring straight ahead out the window. She turns to him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face behind the mask.

"Thank you for helping me," she says softly. He gives a curt nod, his hands still placed on the wheel.

"Did you want to come in?" His head whips to her, his eyes holding confusion. She smirks, enjoying the hesitancy and confusion in his eyes.

" Come on, you've been inside anyway. Might as well come in with an invitation this time."

He huffs behind the mask but follows her actions in unbuckling the seat belt and climbing out of the car.

They walk inside the house, the girl kicking off the annoying heels and throwing her keys in the bowl on the stand. She walks to her bedroom, smiling to herself as she hears his sluggish footsteps behind her. She throws herself onto her bed, flipping onto her back and propping herself up with her elbows.

She looks him up and down curiously, attempting to familiarize herself with him again.

"How come you wear a mask?"

Like always, he says nothing, refusing to even glance in her direction. She pushes herself off the bed and approaches him, cornering him. No words are spoken between the two as she presses herself against him, his breathing speeding up. With a slow and steady hand, she trails it up his arm, her fingers soon fanning out against his chest.

She goes to touch the edge of the mask, but she's stopped by his hand firmly grasping her wrist.

He looks scared.

Despite the tight grip he has on her, she continues with her actions. Her fingers grip the edge of the mask, slowly pulling it off of his face.

He quickly turns his head, his hair falling in front of his face. She gently turns him back towards her, their eyes connecting as her fingers dance across the scar on his cheek.

"O-one hun-hundred and fif-fifteen times...."

A shocked expression makes its way onto her face. He spoke, he finally spoke, and the first thing he decided to say was a number.

"W-what?" She questions in confusion, raking her brain for what the number could mean.

"Th-the man....I sta-stabbed him one hun-dred and f-fifteen times."

She's shocked by the confession.

She didn't know a lot about murder, only having seen it and heard about it in movies and TV shows, but she knew it took a lot of energy and anger to stab someone that amount of times - He did it for her.

It was sick, it was twisted, and yet, it attracted her.

"Let me thank you," she mumbles, her hand leaving his face and trailing down his chest, soon finding its place over his crotch. She begins to palm him, watching his breathing grow harsh, their eyes still connected. A small whimper leaves his mouth, and she breaks out into a grin - his moans were so pretty, so soft,

Submissive.

She sinks to her knees, both of her hands working at his belt, soon throwing it to the floor. Her mouth waters as she pulls his pants down, his cock slapping his abdomen.

It was pretty, just like him.

It was long and thick, and had a bright red tip that matched his chapped lips. There was a vein running up the side that she knew would feel euphoric when sliding against her spongy walls.

He bucks his hips softly as she wraps her hand around his shaft, pulling it towards her mouth. She opens her mouth and allows a wad of spit to trickle out, landing directly on his tip. Her thumb swipes over the tip as she moves the spit around, starting to jerk him off.

His moans and whimpers are kitten-like, despite his horrific and brutal demeanor, he was like putty in her hands.

She enjoys the way his body relaxes against the door, his head thrown back and his mouth open as he pants softly. She kitten licks his tip before taking him fully in her mouth. His rough and calloused hands fly to her head, grabbing the strands of hair and forcing her to take him deeper.

She gags around him, tears forming in her eyes as she opens her mouth wider, but she keeps going. She bobs her head up and down, making sure to hum and fondle his balls in the process.

His moans and groans grow louder, and his actions become more dominant. It was like a switch was flipped in his head, his hips starting to slam against her face.

He shows no mercy as he fucks her face, his dick reaching so far down her throat and giving her no chance to breathe. Her actions of gratitude had quickly become sloppy, the mixture of spit and precum coating her chin and falling down to her chest.

There were even bubbles of the mixture forming, popping every time her nose hit his happy trail.

She manages to look up at him, her mascara tears and glossy eyes making her look so damaged yet innocent - It drives him over the edge.

He quickly pulls out of her mouth and releases all over her face, enjoying the way she gasps in shock.

It's like his body is on autopilot, nothing but excitement and adrenaline controlling his actions. His hand wraps around her throat, lifting her to her feet with ease. Their lips instantly mesh together, swapping spit as they hastily make out. She moans into the kiss as he tightens his grip on her throat, the wetness in her panties only growing. She could feel the sticky fluid in between her folds every time she clenched her thighs - She was aching for him to touch her.

He suddenly pulls away from the kiss and begins to lick his own semen off of her face, his eyes rolling back. She moaned at his erotic actions, the way his soft and spongy muscle glided over her cheek. She could smell the faint mixture of cigarettes on his breath, but she found herself not caring.

Suddenly, she's pushed away from him, her body colliding with the mattress. It all happens so quick, the way her powder blue dress is ripped into pieces, her soaked panties following.

He was like a rabid, feral dog, ready to take what he wanted and she was just as excited.

Her jaw drops and her back arches as he shoves his length inside of her, reaching to the deepest hilt. Much like his partner in crime, he stretched her out perfectly, her aching walls sucking him in and not letting him go. The bedframe bangs against the wall with each ferocious thrust, items falling off her nightstand due to the shaking.

He shoves his face into the crevice of her neck, his teeth sinking into the soft skin. He proceeds with his actions, the marking of his teeth covering her whole chest along with her breasts - Blood is drawn in certain areas.

It's an overwhelming amount of pleasure, so overwhelming that she can't even keep her eyes open nor hold him. Her arms lay flat by her head, her eyes clenched shut as her mouth remains open.

Her eyes fly open when her head whips to the side, the same hand that slapped her wrapping around her throat, squeezing tightly.

He's heaving like a dog, his pants mixed with groans, making him sound like a beast.

She weakly grabbed at his wrist, trying to ease the pressure on her throat, but it was no use. She had become lightheaded from the pleasure and lack of air.

She was close to passing out, but she was also close to reaching her orgasm, it was just a matter of which one she would experience first.

"You're going to kill her, ease up on the choking."

Her blurry eyes dart to the bedroom door, a choked gurgle escaping her mouth when she sees him.

He was here, the one with the painted face. Except, his face wasn't painted, and he was watching her be fucked by his partner.

She gasped for air when he released her throat, her eyes still trained on the other one. She watches as he takes a seat at her vanity, leaning back on the chair and manspreading.

"Don't look at me, look at him. He's the one fucking you."

She does as told, her eyes connecting with the man on top of her. He had the same look in his eyes from that night when he chased after the girl trying to run away.

"Tell him how good he's making you feel, he loves the praise,"

"S-so good- Nghh. Fuck- " She could barely speak a full sentence, her speech slurred.

"That's all you can do? Come on dollface, he killed someone for you! Show him how grateful you are! He finally gets to feel you after watching me fuck you, give him the experience he deserves."

Her mind is reeling, incoherent babbles of praise falling from her lips. The more she praises him, the harder his thrust become, her sobs of pleasure getting louder.

It's not long before she felt that familiar coil in her stomach forming, ready to burst at any second - and all it took was one final thrust from the man on top of her to push her over the edge.

Her whole body shakes violently, her eyes rolling back as she feels the static rush through her body. Her ears were ringing, her vision blurry as she came down from her high.

She lays there shaking, her fingers twitching as she pants harshly. She was worn out, fucked, and tired.

Suddenly, he stands up from the vanity and slams his hand down on Chris's back, "Look at her....and I thought I wore her out." They both look down at her, trying to figure out what to do next.

Matt suddenly bends down and moves her hair out of her face, grabbing her chin softly.

"Wake up doll, your night has just started."

[softspokendove]

"Good Job Sweetheart"

pairings: bf!matt sturniolo x nerdy!reader

summary: matt decides to make his girlfriend feel good after she shows him she got an A+ on a test.

warnings: smut, blowjob f!receiving, nicknames (sweetheart, baby), fingering, praise kink, teasing, begging, reader is a bit shy and easy flustered, a little bit of overstimulation towards the end.

As you run through your boyfriend's house, completely oblivious to his two brothers watching tv in the living room, you speed past them and down the hallway towards your shared bedroom door. Your boyfriend's head shoots up at you excitedly pushing open the door and you run over jumping on top of him.

"I did it Matt! I aced the exam!" Matt furrows his eyebrows; his brain still hasn't caught up to speed. Instead, you push the exam paper in his hands, helping him figure it out. As his eyes scan over the page and the big letter A at the top of it a smile spreads on his face.

"Good job sweetheart, I knew you could do it." He sets down the paper on his side table and cups your face with both of his hands. He leans in giving you a passionate kiss in hopes of showing his approval. As he pulls back, he gives your now flushed face a once over, "So all that studying really paid off huh?"

You smile and nod your head as a response. You've been studying for endless nights trying to prepare for this exam, which your mind kept constantly telling you were gonna fail. Your boyfriend who knows how important school is to you, even tried to help you prepare. This consisted of you and Matt in the living room until 3 am reading post it cards until you soon fell asleep on his lap, completely exhausted.

You appreciated this about Matt. He knew how important this is to you, so he took time out of his day to help. He's never once complained about how much time you spend studying, if anything he just asks if you can do it in your shared bedroom so he can be near you.

"I'm so proud of you baby." Matt's words cause you to practically melt in his grasp. Matt knows all about how much you love receiving praise towards your accomplishments, especially from him. He finds it adorable how easily flustered and red you can get from it.

"Thank you." You smile once more at him before trying to get up off his lap, instead Matt's hands move to your hips and force you back down.

"How about I give you a reward for all your hard work?" He says it as a question.

"Like what?" Your obliviousness makes Matt smirk, and he leans towards you once again this time leaving small kisses along your neck. You gasp at the newfound sensation and subconsciously lean your head to the side to give him better access. Matt applies more pressure on his kisses, his hands roaming the sides of your body.

"You did so good on your test baby, you deserve to feel just as good." As his lips continue to attack your neck, your mind starts to become consumed by Matt and what he's doing. His hand wonders from your side down to your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You feel a sense of need gather lower and lower, causing you to softly grind on Matt's growing bulge in his pants.

"We can't. It'll be too loud." Your words come out breathless as you keep grinding on Matt, nowhere close to stopping. Matt knows that you're talking about his brothers being close to the other side of the wall, and your record of screaming while Matt has his way with you.

"Then you'll have to be quiet, can you do that for me?" Matt pulls away and looks you dead in eye, you're hesitant for a few seconds and then nod your head. A huge part of you knows that you can't keep quiet with Matt, it's impossible. But he already feels so good you don't want to end here. "That's my girl." Matt gives you one more appreciative kiss before setting you flat against the bed. He gets up to walk over to the door, closing and locking it.

As he returns, he climbs over you nudging your legs open with his knee to give him room. His lips connect with yours again, the kiss filled with love and passion. Matt's knee comes up and pushes against your clit, making you moan into his mouth. He swallows up your noises and slips his tongue into you. His tongue dancing with yours, both of your saliva's mixing up and creating a mess. His hand tilts your head to the side allowing him a better angle.

When he finally pulls away, you're both gasping for air. "Arms up." You lift up your arms and feel the warmth of your shirt leave your body as Matt throws the clothing across the room. He kisses a trail from your neck down to your boobs, leaving small bites here and there. His one hand lifts up your lower body as his other hand slides below you and unclasps your bra, this also getting thrown.

Matt takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks, swirling his tongue around the nub. He rubs your other boob in an effort to give them the same attention. Once he feels satisfied with one nipple he moves on to the other one, doing the same with his mouth. Your hand finds its way into his hair and gives a small tug which brings Matt to moan against you.

He lets go of your nipple with a pop and starts kissing your body again, this time getting lower and lower. You squirm in anticipation and whine, desperately needing Matt to touch you there. "Easy baby, this is all about you. I promise to make you feel good."

His words lead to another whine escaping your throat, "Matt please."

"Please what baby?" His tone is teasing. He knows what you want, he just loves hearing you say it.

"You know what." You huff out. This makes Matt chuckle and start to slide your pants slowly down your legs, too slowly for your liking.

"No, I don't think I do. Let me hear you say it." After your pants are completely gone from your body, you spread your legs wider for him, hoping he'd get the hint. Your cheeks red from embarrassment. Instead of understanding, Matt just slides his hands up and down your thighs. Inching so close to where you need him then quickly retreating.

You feel tears start to prick your eyes as the need for him becomes too much. Your whole-body craving Matt. Needing him to touch you anywhere and everywhere. Your pussy leaking out more slick just thinking about him. That proven to be true when Matt notices a dark patch on your panties, his mouth watering at the sight. "Please touch me," You reach out for one of Matt's hands and place it on the wet spot, "here. I need you so bad. Please."

Your words go straight to Matt's cock causing it to throb in his pants. There's just something about listening to you beg for him. Your words are like honey to his ears. "There you go baby; you sound so good." He leans down and places kisses on your clit, the action making your hips rise towards his mouth. His lips getting wet from your need.

He grabs your panties and slides them down your body, dropping them onto the floor. He places a hand on your hip holding you firmly in place. "You gotta be quiet, okay?"

"I promise." The words leave your mouth in a hurry, hoping to get him to work faster. He kisses your clit again, this time without a layer of clothing to get in the way. The new feeling making you grip onto his hair again.

He slides his tongue down your folds and then back up. His saliva and tongue feeling blissful against your pussy. He moans at the taste of you and slips his tongue inside your hole, hoping to taste more. This catches you by surprise and a small moan leaves your throat, you see Matt raise his eyebrows at you, warning you to stay true to your promise.

He swirls his tongue around inside of you, once again moaning at the flavor of you, his noises getting muffled against you. You hear the small noise of Matt's tongue gliding in your juices and the sound of him slurping as much as he can up. He takes his tongue out and slides it back up your pussy before swirling around your clit.

His lips then attach to your clit and suck while his tongue swirls in a circle around it. You bite your bottom lip trying to silent your moans. Matt's hand squeezes your flesh on your thigh and then moves his hand to your pussy. His middle finger circles around your clit, teasing you. You try to raise your hips to get it inside of you, but Matt's hand doesn't let you budge.

After Matt feels he's teased you enough he enters his finger into you at a slow pace. You sigh in relief his fingers start moving back and forth at a good pace. The pleasure you've been searching for finally here. You start to feel a sudden need to hold on to something-anything. One of your hands grips onto Matt's hair while the other holds onto the sheets, knuckles turning white from how hard you're gripping. Matt moans again at feeling a tug on his strands of hair, the noise vibrating against your pussy making it flutter.

This spurs Matt on, him feeling your pussy throb and tighten against him. His finger increases its pace, your juices starting to drip down you and onto the sheets. The overwhelming pleasure raking up your body and getting stuck in your throat, your moans and whimpers desperately wanting to get out.

It doesn't help when Matt adds his ring finger, filling you up. Your walls clench around his fingers, your body getting closer and closer. You move your hand that was gripping the sheets towards your mouth and try to muffle your moans with your hand.

The core in your lower belly keeps tightening. "Matt, I'm gonna cum." The words sound muffled, but Matt knew what you said. You look down and see Matt's blue eyes staring right back at yours, this being his favorite view. Your clit throbs in Matt's mouth at the sight.

Matt's tongue starts swirling letters, his name. You feel the motion of his tongue form the letters M-A-T-T and then repeating. Your eyes roll back into your head as your legs tighten around Matt's head. "Come on baby, cum on my tongue." Matt's voice sending you over the edge.

You scream into your hand as the bubble finally explodes, your walls throbbing around Matt's fingers. He removes his fingers from inside you and brings them up towards your mouth. You take away your hand and suck around his digits, tasting the proof of your beautiful orgasm. Matt hums in satisfaction as his tongue reenters inside of you tasting your cum for himself.

Your hips jerk in oversensitivity as his tongue continues to wiggle around inside your walls. "Matt too much." You try to move away but his hand pulls you right back. He ignores your comment and shoves his fingers further down your mouth towards your throat, igniting a gag from you.

When he pulls his fingers out, they're covered in your salvia which is then returned inside of you when Matt lifts his head up. "Give me one more sweetheart, wanna make sure you feel as good as you should."

You go to protest, but Matt just dives back down to your pussy, leaving no room for arguing.

a/n: holy. I had all of this written out a week ago but the last couple sentences. It took me so long to finish this for what.

[am-i-interrupting]

Can’t Go Back | Silco x Reader

Chapter 3 | Pushed Under the Waves

Summary: You had a long, complicated history with Silco before he became the Eye of Zaun. You thought you’d buried it a long time ago. It all starts to re-emerge from the ground when Vander dies and Powder is found in the hands of Silco.

Time felt like it passed by extremely fast and incredibly slow. Most days it felt like just yesterday that you were at the rubble where you found Vander and the boys. Yet it felt like it’d be forever before you saw Jinx (as she was insistent you call her even if it made your stomach curl) again.

It’d been eight months since you stopped fighting. You and Silco had founded a routine. Jinx was with him while you worked and vice versa. Most nights she stayed at The Drop but roughly a week or so worth of nights each month she’d stay with you.

She would curl up in the bed with Ekko after a long day of tinkering and toying and bickering and playing together, just being kids. Even if both of them had haunted looks in their eyes that wouldn’t go away.

Occasionally on those nights she would wake up and go to where you slept on the couch. She would grab your hand and pull you into the bedroom. You’d wrap your arms around her as you both laid down. Normally Ekko would stir at this and roll into your awaiting arms with her.

You cherished those nights.

Tonight, you were throwing yourself into work. At least, that’s what you had planned until Babette informed you, you had been bought out by one person for the night.

You went to the designated meeting spot that had been given. Some people didn’t like being separated from others with only a mere curtain, you could understand that. However, you couldn’t help but feel on edge.

“No,” you said simply as you turned to walk out immediately upon seeing who it was.

A hand grabbed your wrist and you jerked it away. You reared your hand back and punched him in the face.

He faltered for a moment. You went to continue your walk away but he was stubborn. He followed you. It wasn’t until you were out of the building though that he managed to grab you again. This time a tight grip around your forearm instead of a careful one.

“Have a smoke with me,” the velvet voice said. “That’s all I ask.”

You sighed. “Fine.”

You gave in too easily. You knew that. You reprimanded yourself for it. Still, you followed him to the edges of the water.

Another event flashed before your eyes instead of just the one today was the anniversary of.

Running. Adrenaline high. A vague ache in your torso and with each contact your feet had with the ground.

You had been desperate.

There was a slice that rang through the air as Silco cut a cigar. A nice click of his lighter as it opened.

You looked at him. His ocean eye on your side.

He held the cigar between his teeth as the light grew closer to the end of it. His other hand came up and curled around the flame. Slowly the end sparked with a red hue.

His lips pressed against the cigar as he inhaled. His right hand slipping the lighter back in his pocket. His pointer finger wrapped around the top as he used his others to stabilize it.

He drug it away from his mouth. His hand fell to his side for a moment as he closed his eyes and let his head tilt back. Then he carefully exhaled.

He took another puff before he handed it off to you.

“Where’s Jinx?” you asked as you plucked the cigar from him.

“Sedated,” he said causing you to pause, “she had a fit this morning when she realized what day it was. She kept hitting herself, throwing things, talking to her ghosts. I tried talking her down but nothing worked. Sevika brought the doctor in and he sedated her. Not my preferred method but whatever works, I suppose.”

“You should have gotten me.” You took a drag. “I know her better than all of you combined. I could have figured something out,” you said as smoke flooded out your mouth with your words.

“I thought of it but I was more concerned with making sure she didn’t hurt herself severely. Sevika disappeared as soon as the girl threw a knife at her. Came back twenty minutes later with the doctor in tow.”

Your own voice rang in your head from years ago. “She’s got good instincts.”

You said nothing in reply.

Your heart ached at the pain of your girl. You hated that she was going through this.

Thankfully, Ekko was doing much better. At least in comparison to throwing things and hurting himself. He’d requested that you give him his space but you knew where he was. He was at Benzo’s shop, rundown, ragged, and abandoned.

It was truly a miracle that in a years time someone hadn’t snatched it on up and claimed it as their own or that it’s managed to keep its walls free from addicts and those without any roof.

You wanted to buy it but some of your top buyers hadn’t been coming down. Scared shitless of being caught up in the fights. Only within the past month have some started to drip back down to the Lanes.

“Why are we here, Silco?” you asked.

“A man died here, years ago,” Silco began. “You need to let him go in order to move on with life. I’m not him anymore.”

You looked him in the eye. You felt your nostrils begin to sting as your eyes watered.

“I know.”

Silco took the last drag left in the cigar and flicked it into the water. The waves pulled it down until it was beneath the black.

He stepped forward. The water lapped at his shoes. He turned and extended a hand to you.

“He tried to find you,” you told him. “Vander was sorry.”

A bit of the coldness melted away. His arm slumped a bit. No longer straight and rigid but more relaxed. Still, it was reaching for you.

“No matter what he did to you and no matter what you did to him, he still loved you,” you said as you let your hand slip into his.

His hands were cold, long, and wrapped delicately around your own. Engulfing it in his icy touch.

“We tried to find you for months but you didn’t want to be found,” you continued on. “You didn’t even come to their funerals.

“All we wanted was to get to independence and peace but we’re not anywhere near close. How are you any closer to achieving that compared to Vander?”

He didn’t answer you.

You shoved his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t in his hold. “Huh?”

The water was up to your hips.

He didn’t reply.

“There’s been fighting and death and people are dying every day on the streets because of what you put in them! What’s the point? How does this help anyone? How does this make them—“ you gestured at the buildings in the distance— “respect us? All they’re seeing are animals fighting for scraps!

The water was above your chest now, reaching for your shoulders if the waves were strong enough.

He stopped. He turned to you and took both your hands in his. You held his gaze for a minute before you sighed. You let your head thump against his shoulder, uncaring that water lapped at your chin.

“How does this fix things because all I see are more problems,” you said, your voice going quiet.

“We tried to fight for our independence. We tried before and we failed. These are the trails to make our fight succeed,” Silco said. “There will be loss but this way we have subjects who are willing.��

“They’re addicted,” you corrected.

“Would you rather I kidnap people off the street?” he asked. “Pay them to? What money would go back into the trails if we gave it away just to test?”

“Did you even think about trying to strike a deal?” you asked.

“Our tongues are practiced in different forms, even combined, did they ever listen to us before? We need to scare them and if they want a war, we need to win.”

You let your weight fall against him. Felt his hands move to your elbows to adjust. His breath warmed your skin in comparison to the water.

You felt him slowly begin to pull you both down. You didn’t fight it.

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked.

“If I wanted to, I would have done it when I killed Vander,” he said it with such ease.

A tear fell down your cheek. “How comforting.”

The water tickled your lips. You got half a second of warning to suck in a breath before you were under.

In the freezing waters, Silco was warm. You let your eyes close. Your head rested against his own. His hair tickled your face as the soft currents made it sway and dance.

You let your arms wrap around Silco’s middle. He hugged you back.

Together you stayed like that until the inevitable need to breathe befell the both of you. Silco’s foot kicked the bottom of the floor and brought the two of you to the surface, where standing upright the water was beneath you.

You didn’t let go for one moment, then two. You wanted to hold on, keep this moment of peace between you.

He let go first.

Your hands slowly went from his back to his shoulders and down his arms. You opened your eyes.

One sea foam green eye stared at you. The other a flame in the night.

He must have been wearing some kind of makeup because the skin around was blacked, almost necrotic.

He squeezed your elbows. His hands went down to yours. His fingers wrapped around your own. His thumb rubbed. He squeezed again. He walked away but didn’t let go until he was too far away to hold on.

You watched him leave.

You felt cold. The water was cold. The breeze was cold. Neither of those is what caused your feeling.

You stared at the water surrounding you. The waves clashing against each other. The current that tried to push through but went around you as it realized it couldn’t.

Your hands touched the surface. Ripples dispersed. The rings started off small. Then they stretched out as far as they could before they broke.

You breached the surface. Stood for a moment and simply felt. You felt the rush past your fingertips, tickling your skin.

Something slowly bubbled up inside you. It was warm.

You let yourself feel it, touch it, poke it, stoke it. It flared and quickly went from warm to hot to scorching.

Your jaw clenched and your nostrils flared. Your breathing quickened. You were struggling for air.

You slipped beneath the water once more. This time alone. The only source of heat coming from this feeling which overflowed, bubbling and boiling.

You let out an agonizing scream. Water filled your mouth, grimy and desolate. It aimed for your lungs. Going through your clenched teeth like breaking through a dam.

Breaching the water you coughed and heaved.

Your fingers went through your hair and pulled. You felt like you were being strangled. Like a frightened animal in a corner but with the anger of a beast protecting their pride.

You slammed your fists against the water and let another scream ripe through your lungs but this time it went through the air instead of the water.

Ekko didn’t question when you came into the apartment soaked. You didn’t question why his hands were covered in bandages.

In some weird way, you almost felt better.

There was so much going on. Fighting, bombs, guns, punches, yells, screams, struggles, death, life. All of it surrounded you.

Just moment ago you’d been aiming at enforcers. Now you were running. Tears in your eyes as your breathing came out in strangled puffs. You couldn’t keep it down. You couldn’t keep the air in.

You wiped at your tears. Scratched them off your skin.

A yell, his yell. You picked up the pace.

Distantly, oh so distantly you registered ache in your torso that went down and doubled with each contact your feet had with the ground.

But you were desperate.

You saw thrashing in the water. Above the waves one man, below the waves was the one you were more worried about.

Vander looked different. He looked murderous in way you’d never seen before. He looked dangerous in way that made you scared.

The man who’d only ever given you warmth and kindness was scaring you. He scared you here now more than the enforcers ever had.

His hands were wrapped around the neck of Silco beneath the water. He was thrashing and clawing. Every few seconds his hands would come up from the water.

You yelled out both their names but neither responded as you raced closer.

You heart dropped to your stomach when the thrashing stopped. If he could last a few seconds more.

Tears poorer down your face, heated streams of worry and grief. Just a few seconds more.

Vander’s breath left him and he stepped back in the water. Silco’s head bolted up from beneath. He scrambled to his feet. Vander tried to grab him, push him back down. A backward slash to his arm allowed Silco to get away.

The water soaked through your boots as you raised your hand and pointed your gun. This time not at enforcers but your friend.

Your head turned to watch Silco run. Blood tainted the water. It dripped down his face but his hand covered it as he ran.

“Don’t make me shoot you,” you said, voice far more steady and stern than you felt.

Vander took a step closer as Silco still ran. You squeezed your finger around the trigger. The bullet swirled past his head. A warning.

Your lips trembled.

“Don’t think I won’t!”

You readjusted your aim towards his chest.

Vander held his arm that leaked into the water and grunted. Looked at you, past you and then back again. He yelled through clenched teeth as he walked the other way. He picked up his mining gloves and back into the real fight he went.

You stood, staring at the water. It was a murky brown, tinged red with blood.

The reality of what happened sunk in and weighed on you heavier than an anchor.

Your gun fell from your hand. It misfired into the bloodstained river.

You stood for one, two, three, four seconds? Minutes? Hours?

At some point you just snapped into action and ran toward where Silco had. You were only able to follow his trail so far before the blood had been completed washed by the rain.

You collapsed at the end of the trail. The tears never stopped but they doubled down harder.

Fari, dead. Felicia, dead. Connol, dead. Vander, dead to you. Silco, gone.

Your head tilted down towards the pavement as your body curled in. Your hands went to your middle, clutched in fists where your heart was. Almost like if you tried hard enough you could rip your heart from your chest and take the pain with it.

Not once had you ever felt like this before in your life. You weren’t sure you would survive it. It hurt, throbbing a painful beat in your body. With every breath, every movement, every second the pain worsened.

You passed out in the alleyway.

You awoke to a hard pushing against your shoulder. Your eyes opened and you winced at the few scattered bits of sunlight the Lanes got. You rubbed at the sleep in your eyes and tried again. This time the world was less blurry.

Benzo.

“Come on,” he said, heaving you up. “The kids are worried about you.”

You let your head fall against his torso. His arm around you was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Right good scare you gave all of us,” he said with a forced laugh. “We were worried you’d have run off.”

He tried to lift the spirits. Bless him, he did try. However, there was no fixing this right now.

The Last Drop came into view and you stopped.

“Don’t let me see Vander,” you said, spitting out his name like a curse. “I don’t want to kill him in front of the kids.”

Benzo looked at you, worried and concerned. It took a moment for him to realize you were serious.

“Alright,” he said, “give me a second.”

He walked into the bar before you. You leaned against the wall beside the door. You felt numb. You felt heartless. You felt cold.

[himasgod]

Hermanubis x Reader

Where even though you gave Deshret a second chance, your heart begins to break towards Hermanubis

What if the events of Chapter VI of King Deshret's fanfic were changed? In this alternate timeline, the Queen, you, travels back in time to before Deshret betrayed you, in order to give him a second chance. And yet, even with the pain of being betrayed, you begin to seek refuge in Hermanubis, your greatest confidant, who begins to change his loyalty towards Deshret into hatred, and his devotion towards you, his queen, into love, becoming your secret lover.

(I DID IT. FINALLY. I'VE BEEN WANTING TO FINISH THIS FOR SO LONG. MY HERMANUBIS BRAINROT IS BACK, I LOVED HIM. PLEASE SUPPORT HIM.)

When you opened your eyes, the desert air filled your lungs, bringing you back to life. You travel back time again. You felt the icy edge of loneliness and the fury of a cruel fate.

But something had changed. You recognized the place, the golden walls of the palace, the preparations for a wedding that seemed like a distant echo. Time had turned back, returning you to the day the marriage contract would be signed.

You were not the same.

Your hands trembled, but your thoughts were clear: this time, you would not allow yourself to be used or your future taken from you. You took the pen firmly, adding an unexpected clause to the contract: not only would infidelity be punished, but you demanded the freedom to break the marriage if your life was ever endangered by Deshret's decisions.

As the scribes murmured among themselves, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Hermanubis, the silent guardian and priest of the realm, watched you with his deep golden eyes. He was always there, in the shadows, watching over Deshret’s safety…

And, secretly, yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice rang low and gravelly, with a note of concern.

“More than ever,” you replied, meeting his eyes bravely. “I will not make the same mistakes.”

After adding the clause, you focused on the wedding preparations, but you did not spend those days in isolation. You sought out Hermanubis’s help, trusting in his knowledge of the protective runes and enchantments that could secure your future.

“I want to protect myself from that which could harm my marriage,” you confessed to him one afternoon, as he examined the designs of the bracelet you planned to give to Deshret.

Hermanubis cocked his head, his sharp gaze scanning your intentions.

“And protect yourself from Deshret? Have you considered that as well?”

You were silent for a moment, the weight of the truth tightening your chest. “If it becomes necessary… I must do it as well.”

He nodded slowly, admiring your determination. Over the next few weeks, you worked together to perfect the bracelet’s design and engrave the runes.

One night, as you worked on the bracelet, awhisper echoed in your mind, deep and ancient:

“My queen, why do you fight so hard for someone who has already betrayed you?”

You turned quickly, but there was no one in the room. Then, you saw him again. That tall, majestic shadow emerged from the dark corners, eyes glowing like embers and a figure shrouded in dark mist.

“Why do you say that?” you asked cautiously, though your heart was pounding.

“Because I see the mark of betrayal in your soul,” he replied calmly. “Deshret is not worthy of your loyalty, nor of your love.”

Despite his coldness, there was something in his voice that reassured you. As if the words he spoke, though harsh, were a reflection of the truth you dared not admit.

There was an honesty in Hermanubis that you hadn’t found in anyone else, and his loyalty wasn’t blind; it was based on sound judgment and a deep understanding of the world.

The wedding day came quickly. Dressed in a golden robe and sparkling jewels, you crossed the halls to the altar where Deshret awaited you. His gaze was filled with admiration, but there was something about it that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Before exchanging vows, you offered him the bracelet, your gift. “Promise me you’ll never take it off,” you said firmly, and he, pleased, agreed.

But as the words of the contract echoed through the room, you felt an uneasiness you couldn’t ignore. Deshret was majestic, but his heart always seemed to be somewhere else, as if he were searching for something beyond what was in front of him.

That night, during the celebration, your eyes sought out Hermanubis in the crowd.

He was there, watching from the shadows as always. When your gazes met, an inexplicable spark ran through your body.

You felt the absolute urge to go find him.

You found Hermanubis in the palace gardens. He was standing under the stars, his dark figure contrasting with the silver moonlight.

“Why are you here?” you asked, approaching him.

“Because I can’t ignore what I feel,” he answered with an honesty that left you speechless.

"He wasn't even looking at you. He was marrying you, the most beautiful woman, and he wasn't even looking at you. I wanted to beat Deshret's face until my hands bled. But I held back, so I came here. The moon relaxes me."

For the first time, Hermanubis dropped the cold mask he had always worn. His eyes looked at you with an intensity that made you shiver. He looked clearly angry, his marked jaw was tense, his gaze full of hatred avoiding your gaze.

The mere thought of you marrying Deshret felt like a viper in his stomach.

As the months passed, you realized that, although Deshret kept his promise of loyalty, something was missing in your relationship. He was too busy thinking about his plans of greatness that he didn't pay attention to you.

In those moments of solitude, Hermanubis was there. Always willing to listen, always willing to offer his wisdom. He was not just a guardian or priest, but someone who understood your fears, your frustrations, and your dreams.

When Nabu Malikata arrived at the palace, he attempted to use his Allure to enthrall Deshret. But the runes you had engraved on the bracelets protected him, and her attempts were in vain. Frustrated, the goddess tried to manipulate him in other ways, but each time she did, you and Hermanubis were there to thwart her plans.

Finally, one night, Nabu Malikata confronted Hermanubis directly.

“Why do you protect this woman?” he asked, his voice laced with venom.

“Because she is more than a queen. She is my light in the darkness,” Hermanubis replied without hesitation.

Nabu Malikata stepped back, surprised by the intensity of his words.

Other night, after a banquet where Nabu Malikata had, again, tried unsuccessfully to attract Deshret’s attention, you encountered Hermanubis in the palace gardens. The starlight illuminated his sharp features and the intensity of his gaze.

“She will not stop,” you said, referring to the Goddess of Flowers. “She keeps trying to claim him.”

“Deshret is strong,” Hermanubis replied, but his tone was neutral, as if he were unconvinced.

“What if he fails? What if she succeeds in destroying what I have built?”

He took a step toward you, and for the first time, touched your hand. His touch was warm, protective.

“Then I will be here. I will not allow anything or anyone to harm you. I'd rather die, my queen"

The tension between you grew over time, until finally you could ignore it no longer. One night, when Deshret was away on an expedition, you encountered Hermanubis in the private chambers where you used to discuss strategies and runes.

“This cannot continue,” you said, though your voice trembled.

“Why not?” he replied, taking a step toward you. “Why ignoring what we both feel?"

"I will protect you, my queen. Forget Deshret. I have tried to suppress my love to you, but I cannot. I will fight any beast to prove that I am worthy of you. I will give you everything he has not given you, I will give you security, wisdom, everything that…"

However, he was cut off when you interrupted him by hugging his neck and kissing his lips, while he let out a murmur with a smile forming on his lips and grabbed your hips firmly as he gently laid you down on the bed, caressing the fabrics that covered, not for long, your skin.

A few hours later that night, as you watched Hermanubis's bare back lying next to you in bed, his body covered by the golden silk sheets, you knew that you had found something real, something that Deshret could never give you: a love that was equal in passion and devotion, built on respect and mutual understanding.

One night, as you lay in Hermanubis’s arms, you realized you could no longer pretend.

“I no longer love Deshret,” you admitted, your words filled with pain and release.

Hermanubis held you tightly, his voice soft as he replied,

“Then let me be the one to love you. Let me be the one to protect you.”

Over time, Hermanubis became more than just a guardian or secret lover; he was your confidant, your companion, and the only one who truly understood the weight of your decisions.

On a quiet night, as you looked out over the desert from atop the palace, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

His lips kissed the top of your head as he looked out at the desert with a calm smile.

“I wouldn’t change any of this,” you murmured, leaning into him.

“Nor I,” he replied, his voice low and full of certainty.

And so, as the desert wind whispered around you, you knew you had found your destiny not on a throne, but in the arms of the one who truly loved your soul.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Cruel Intentions

| based off the man requests i have gotten for a new arranged marriage series!!! |

Coriolanus often wonders how he missed it. How it slipped his mind, how he was so naive, so stupid to miss it.

He thinks back to their wedding day, how sweet she was, how well behaved and perfect she was. To him, it made total sense, she was perfect because he deserved someone perfect, someone to devote their life to making him happy.

After all, Snow lands on top.

So he gave her his last name, slipped the ring on her finger, smiled for the photos, cut the cake, and whisked her away to his penthouse that would forever be her home.

The ring on his finger now feels like a ball and chain and he wants nothing more than to rip it off and toss it into the trash.

Three months ago Coriolanus Snow married Soarynn Nightingale. It was an arranged marriage, nothing new in the Capitol's elite circles who intended on keeping their circles small and exclusive. Why risk your son or daughter marrying out of their tax bracket when you can just arrange the whole thing?

Coriolanus met Soarynn at a dinner with both their parents, or well, his parents and her father. Apparently, her mother tragically passed away during childbirth, leaving Glen Nightingale with a baby girl and not a clue as to how to raise her. But he did good, he raised a polite, quiet, submissive daughter who conformed to all societal norms without the blink of an eye.

She was perfect.

Or so he thought.

The more he thinks about it, the more the signs become so obvious. Glen's eagerness to get the show on the road, how quiet Soarynn always was, how they never went on a date alone despite him being twenty-five and her being twenty. Coriolanus had brushed it off, his parents didn't want to risk a failed marriage so they were simply making sure that everything went as perfectly as possible.

Soarynn was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen, with dazzling eyes and luscious hair. She put other women to shame with her natural beauty. She dressed impeccably for someone her age and always used her manners when they were in public. Which was a good thing considering that Coriolanus was an aspiring politician who could not afford a bad reputation.

So when it came time to propose, he had no hesitation. He went out and bought a beautiful, expensive ring and slipped it on her finger without batting an eye.

Like a lamb to the fucking slaughter.

Their wedding was huge, it wasn't every day two prominent families became one. Everyone in the Capitol tuned in to watch their wedding and all their friends were there to witness the exchanging of vows.

Soarynn had been all sweet smiles and blushing cheeks, curling into him the moment too much attention landed in her lap. She had looked stunning in her wedding dress, it had been classy yet flattering for her figure, once again solidifying that he made the right choice in marrying Soarynn.

Once the wedding was over, he took her home and prepared to take her virginity, something every man planned for and every woman somewhat dreaded. He had been prepared to be gentle yet stern, she'd have to know who was the dominant party in their relationship.

She let him get the both of them undressed, on the bed and just as he was about to sink into her, she sunk her claws into him.

Soarynn was a fucking thorn in his side.

Coriolanus was quick to find out that the pretty quiet girl he thought he married was only like that in public. Behind closed doors, she gave him a run for his money. It had truly surprised him and the worst part was, no one would believe him if he told anyone. To everyone who knew her, Soarynn was so pliant, so sweet and willing to please.

He knows that he vowed to stand by her side no matter what but this has been a true testament to their marriage and they're only three months in. But he can't give up now, no, he has to push through, be strong and break her into the woman he wants her to be.

Right now she looks as innocent as ever, laughing with his mother across the room, sipping her tea. That little liar. Coriolanus looks at the man next to him who happens to be his father-in-law and wonders if Glen Nightingale is aware of the little fucking tyrant his daughter really is.

Soarynn should really consider becoming an actress based on the performance she's given everyone, including him. He was the dumbest audience member, drinking up every second of her lies.

"So when can we be expecting grandchildren?" His father asks him, causing his throat to dry up. Coriolanus has barely had time to think about children with his current campaign for President but he knows that children are expected with marriage, and sooner than possible. He can't imagine having children with Soarynn right now, they barely even have sex.

Despite her undesirable attitude towards him, Coriolanus wasn't going to let anything keep him from what was rightfully his. Sex was the one thing they could agree on. He only partook in sex when he needed to put her in her place, fucking her until she was screaming into the pillows.

It wasn't the most effective method, unfortunately. It would keep her quiet and put her in her place for about a day before she sparked back up and then he'd have to do it all over again. Coriolanus never thought he'd live in a time when sex felt like a chore but Soarynn really did bring out the worst in him.

"Soon," is all he says, watching his wife place her hand on top of his mother's. It's even worse because his mother loves Soarynn, she adores that girl like she's her own daughter. His father is more reserved in showing affection in general but Coriolanus can see it in his eyes that he's pleased with this union between them.

To his father, this is a successful business deal.

To Coriolanus, it's a punishment from an unknown source.

"How has she been doing?" Glen asks him, sipping his drink, "I know she was a bit nervous to move out." Coriolanus wants to roll his eyes at Glen's naivety but he too was once a fool who believed Soarynn's little act, "She's good," he tells Glen, offering him a tight-lipped smile, "it's been an adjustment for the both of us." The understatement of the fucking century but who's counting?

Glen nods, pleased that this has been going so well, "Ah good, I worried for the longest time that she wouldn't find someone, she's just so shy." She's also a fucking minx but what Glen doesn't know about his daughter won't hurt him.

It'll only hurt Coriolanus.

꧁ ꧂

Later that night the young Snow couple returns to their penthouse apartment and the act is dropped the second Soarynn steps through the door. "Keep your hands to yourself next time," she snaps, glaring up at him, "I'm not your fucking dog."

Coriolanus gave up on trying to be nice to her about a week into their marriage, "Well you certainly act like a little bitch," he shoots back, enjoying how her face falls. It's a battle of wits between the two of them and to his dismay, they're very well matched.

Soarynn is sharp and quick, never giving him too much time to recover from her little jabs. But Coriolanus sleeps well knowing that at the end of the day, she belongs to him.

"I'm not the one with my tail between my legs whenever we're around our parents," she says, walking down the hallway with haste. Coriolanus is right on her heels because she has no idea what he has to worry about on a daily basis. Soarynn spends her days shopping with friends and going to social events. She doesn't lift a fucking finger and yet she loves to show him her middle one.

He grabs her arm and pulls her back until they're face to face and he's fuming, "Fix your fucking attitude," he hisses, "before I fix it for you." If Soarynn was who she pretended to be, she'd be cowering in front of him with tears in her eyes, begging for forgiveness.

But she's not.

She smirks and tilts her head in the most sinister way possible, "What're you gonna do? Fuck me again? You know, you can't solve all of your problems by sticking your cock in me. One of these days you're going to have to actually grow a pair Coriolanus."

He's seething now, he'd never hit a woman but boy does she tempt him. "You belong to me," he says through gritted teeth, "and as my wife, your main priority should be to make me happy, not fucking miserable."

Soarynn rips her arm away from his grip, glaring up at him with her stormy blue eyes, "I don't belong to anyone," she spits out, "especially you."

Coriolanus watches her walk down the hall, furious and defeated at the same time.

He needs to get her under control, but how?

꧁ ꧂

"It's simple," Festus says, leaning over the table, "stop giving her what she wants."

Coriolanus feels terribly lost. He had come to his good friend Festus Creed for advice about his marriage since Festus actually believes his tales about Soarynn's behavior but now he's starting to wonder if he really is doomed.

"I don't give her anything," he claims and Festus shakes his head. "You keep giving her the reactions she's looking for," he explains, "she wants you to get upset, so you get upset. She wants you to doubt yourself and then you go ahead and doubt yourself. Stop reacting to her behavior and then you can correct it."

Coriolanus sits there dumbfounded, for once, Festus might be right.

Soarynn is clearly acting this way on purpose, to evoke a response, and one of these days if he's not careful, he's going to snap in public and then he will be the bad guy.

"Stop giving her what she wants and she'll be on her knees in no time," Festus promises, "it's reverse psychology."

Well, it's worth a shot.

꧁ ꧂

When Coriolanus comes home later that day, he doesn't go to find Soarynn like he usually does. Mostly because all he'll get in return is a glare and a scoff. Soarynn has made it very clear to him that she wants nothing to do with him unless they're in public. Behind closed doors, they stay apart, go their separate ways until it's time for bed.

He goes to his study instead, figuring he might as well prepare for his interview on Sunday. The Capitol News is interviewing all of the candidates running in the race and this will be a good time for him to gain some new supporters. He spends a few hours holed up in his study, going over questions, coming up with new, clever answers.

He still has time to go over anything with his advisors but he feels much better now that he knows what to expect. He glances at the clock on his desk and is shocked to see that it's well past dinner time. They usually have dinner together if he's home although they rarely speak and sit on opposite ends of the table.

Very domestic.

He considers getting up and going to the dining room to join her but decides against it, calling the maid to bring his dinner to him instead so he can do some more work.

It's nearing eight o'clock when he's disturbed by a soft knock at the door. "Come in," he says, still looking down at the papers in front of him. The door slowly opens and he hears her soft voice, "When did you get home?"

"Around one," he answers, not even looking at her.

"Oh."

Coriolanus resists the urge to grin, he might need to kiss Festus on the forehead because he's a genius for this idea.

"Did you need something?" He asks, flipping to the next page casually, "No," she says, "no I didn't need anything."

Coriolanus grunts, "Close the door behind you then."

He doesn't see her face but he can tell how his dismissing her makes her feel. Soarynn closes the door behind her and he listens to her quick receding footsteps.

Coriolanus finally breaks into a grin, it'll be a slow process to break Soarynn down but he's willing to put in the effort.

It's all about moves and countermoves.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus dives deep into his strategy of being cold and distant towards Soarynn. He doesn't speak to her unless absolutely necessary or if they're in public. He keeps himself busy with work and locked away in his study whenever he's home and refrains from taking any bait she lays out for him.

It's working tremendously well for him. Soarynn has been much more quiet and a lot more drawn back since he started acting this way. In public she's sweet but he can tell that she's desperate for the smallest touch he can offer her. But the second they're back home, he doesn't even look at her.

She did this to herself really, he's not the one to blame.

He's officially two months out from the election and the polls are in his favor. For now, though, something could always change as his advisors love to remind him. His mother is over the moon for his success and his father for once, seems genuinely proud of him. Running for President hasn't been an easy feat but he's doing exceptionally well if he says so himself.

He's getting ready for a charity dinner tonight, anything to show face and shake hands. Soarynn is coming with him to show support for her husband and he's got her in the palm of his hand.

He checks his reflection in the mirror one last time, making sure that his curls look perfect and that his tie is straight. The press will be there and he needs to be prepared for any questions they might ask him.

He can hear a small struggle ensuing in their bathroom and looks through the doors to see Soarynn struggling with the zipper of her dress. He sighs, he's been doing an excellent job of remaining cold and withdrawn so far but the small, hopeful part of him knows he should help her. After all, he is her husband.

He steps into the bathroom and she immediately tenses, watching him through the mirror, "Need some help?" He nods at the back of her dress and she looks unsure as to whether or not this is some sort of trap.

She finally nods, "Yes," she says softly.

Coriolanus walks up to her and rests one hand on her back while the other pulls the zipper up with ease. "Thank you," she says, turning to face him. He can see it in her eyes how lonely she is, despite having lots of friends and visiting her father, she's lonely in this big apartment when it's just the two of them. At least when they were arguing she could talk to someone.

"Tonight is very important," he tells her, ignoring her gratitude, "best behavior tonight." He walks out before she can say anything else, it's better this way.

It's better this way.

| Part 1. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @kickmybark @villiansarehottest @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @melodyoflovee |

[call-sign-shark]

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: A public confrontation during dinner escalates and leads General Kirigan to show his quiet but firm protection of you to everyone. Especially Zoya.

Words: 4K

TW: graphic mention of injury, humiliation, reference to past prostitution, slight alteration of canon events: Zoya was never Kirigan's fav.

Previous || Masterlist || Next

As you walked out of the training room alongside General Kirigan, his shadow-like presence enveloping you entirely, murmurs erupted behind you. They were only whispers and yet sounded as loud as the cacophony of screams and cries that followed the frightening silence after a bomb exploded.

Did you see what she did to Zoya? The way she almost tore her apart?

Broken ribs, one lung reduced to mush, heart badly injured, the healer who took care of the arrogant Squaller couldn’t believe such damages were the result of a Grisha. While Heartrenders had always been the most feared and valuable soldiers of the Second Army, none of them could induce that much damage with one sole flick of the wrist. Let alone a beginner who had only used her abilities a few times. The origins of your power remained a mystery for everyone including Zoya, yet she was at least sure of one thing: hadn't General Kirigan intervened, she would have died today in a painful, gruesome way.

Following the incident, you had quietly followed the Black General through the corridors until he stopped and turned to face you. His dark eyes, darkest as the blackest moonless night, had bore into you, as though searching for something.

“You need to control it,” He had said, his tone still firm but the pace of his voice slower, for he was carefully choosing his next words, “Your power is immense. I can feel it pulsing around you like a chained beast… But it’s dangerous.” He let out a long exhale through his nostrils, “You can’t let anger guide you.”

The weight of guilt you felt in your weaving chest became heavier, settling over you like an anvil, “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Aleksander interrupted, his gaze softening ever so slightly, “But intention doesn’t matter when lives are at stake.” 

You simply nodded, unable to find the words to respond, and watched him disappear upstairs with his black kefta dancing behind him like shadows lingering in his wake.

Weeks passed and life at the Little Palace soon fell into a rhythm for you — a rhythm laced with unrelenting tension and exhaustion. Days were a grueling cycle of harsh training sessions where you pushed your limits under the watchful eyes of Ivan and the disdainful stares of your peers. As for your nights, they weren’t any better. Here in this foreign place, terrifying memories of your past impatiently waited for you to sleep in order to plague your dreams, turning them into nerve-wracking nightmares. And when the nightmares wouldn’t come, it was the shadows that crept into your room at night, seeming to carry Aleksander’s presence with them and to watch you as you rolled over in your bedsheets.

Despite everything, there still were moments where you could breathe again and they were when Fedyor spent time with you. Admittedly, you had found an unlikely friend in him considering how everyone carefully avoided you, but his cheerful disposition, unwavering kindness, and humor gave you a sense of normalcy in a world that constantly reminded you that you didn’t belong here. Nevertheless, Fedyor wasn’t always there, his frequent missions for Kirigan leaving you alone to fend off the cold hostility and wariness of the other Grisha. You couldn’t blame them though, not after almost killing a well-known figure of the Little Palace in front of their eyes.

Kirigan too was rarely present during the day, the last time you truly spoke being your last discussion about the necessity of learning to control your powers. For weeks, your encounters with him were fleeting — just brief moments stolen between his duties as General and your relentless training. Yet, even in his absence Aleksander was always there, making you silently understand that he was watching over you. Not in a way that felt overbearing but in a manner that made you hyper-aware of his presence nearby. 

Sometimes it was a brush of his warm hand against your freezing one as he handed you a training sword. Some others, a shared glance across the room that made your heart miss a beat. Or the way he stood a tiny bit too close when he spoke to you, his voice a velvet promise that made your skin prickle. Each time, his intensity steadied you and unnerved you all the same for you hated how easily he seemed to consume your thoughts for some unknown reasons.

Once, during a passing encounter in the hallways, Kirigan stopped beside you, his void-like and unfathomable gaze sweeping over you as if carving every detail of your face in his memory.

“You’re improving,” He said with an even tone, though his somber pupils gleamed when the Palace’s light hit them at the right angle.

You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through your spine, nor control how your pulse quickened a little under his scrutiny, “Thank you, General.” You replied, your tone neutral despite the inner turmoil he triggered in you. His lips curled into a small, enigmatic smile that disappeared as fast as it had come before he walked away, leaving your heart racing even more.  Why the fuck am I feeling like this whenever he’s around? you thought. 

Since your childhood, you have always considered yourself an anomaly. Like an island detached from the ocean of emotions that seemed to flood the others so effortlessly. You were cold, unfeeling, almost clinical, which had often left you wondering if something fundamental within you was broken. Like, an essential piece of humanity missing. Joy, sadness, empathy — they had always felt more muted than they should have been, like distant echoes you could experiment but never fully grasp.

But not with him.

The weight of him was thrilling each time he entered the room and you hated it. Hated the loss of control, the way your supposedly buried emotions now surged to the surface like a storm breaking through the calm waters. To be honest, you didn’t know what unnerved you more: the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the room or the way you found yourself wanting to be looked at like that by him. And there was more to it, something deeper. It wasn’t just about his commanding presence nor the unbearable tension when your skin brushed his, but it was a pull. A tug at something unseen within you. As though your souls had already known each other in another life, an unspoken murmur of recognition that both terrified and soothed you. You couldn’t understand this foreign ache of familiarity in his presence. 

The ache of something that called you home.

The dining hall was alive with chatter, filled with a background noise that only served to highlight how utterly alone you were even surrounded by the crowd of Grisha who lived here. Prior to going downstairs for dinner, a gifted tailor named Genya had asked you why you weren’t wearing the red kefta given to the Heartrenders. To this, you had simply replied “Why should I bother? I’m not one of them” and proceeded to leave, closing your grip on the collar of the white and comfortable fur coat you had found in your bedroom’s closet. Quickly sneaking into the dining hall, you walked to the far end of a table and sat there.

With your gaze fixed on your plate, you were trying hard to ignore the whispers all around you. As always, the other Grisha avoided you, their fear palpable and their resentment an unpleasant feeling that washed over you. Fedyor’s absence was particularly striking tonight. How much you would have loved him to be next to you, listening to his stories and laughing at his gossip but here you were, without an ally. 

You were about to bite into your fork when the room fell silent with the kind of quiet that only preceded trouble. Wondering what was happening, you looked up and quickly understood: Zoya had stepped into the dining hall and was approaching you, a cruel smirk playing on her pretty lips.

“Still sitting alone, I see. Fitting for someone like you.”  Her voice was loud enough to draw the attention from the nearby tables. Attention… Everything you didn’t need.

You didn’t respond, keeping your pale eyes firmly on her as she slowly moved her wrist to make the content of the cup she was holding swirl. It was probably wine.

Unfazed by your silence, she leaned closer and continued to taunt you, “You know, for someone so dangerous you’re awfully quiet. And out of place. Like a wolf pretending to be tame.” 

“And you’re awfully chatty for someone who begged for her life a few weeks ago.” Your words felt like sharp shards of ice that pierced through her ego. “Have you finished yet? I’d like to eat without having to bear that stupid voice of yours.” 

But Zoya wasn’t finished. 

“Tell me first... What does it feel like to be the monster even among deadly Grisha?” 

This time, your grip tightened on your fork as Kirigan’s words circled in your mind like a broken record.  You need to control it. You need to control it.

“Struggling to reply? Here, let me help.” Joining words to deeds, the Squaller let out a bitter giggle and, with a theatrical flourish, she lifted the cup she was holding and dumped its contents  —a thick, deep crimson liquid — onto your white outfit. The splash of its cold content against your chest made you freeze instantly. It was the metallic scent that hit you first and made you understand what the liquid was even before you saw the dark crimson stains on your dress and coat: it wasn’t wine. It was pig’s blood.

A chorus of gasps echoed through the room, overhung by Zoya’s and her friends’ laughter that rang hollow in the silence.

“Red suits you far better, Sankta!” She sneered.

Rage suddenly boiled beneath your skin, making your body stiffen and your little hands tremble – not with fear, but with a fury so cold it scorched you alive. And even though the whispers and laughter around you were deafening, resounding like a thunderstorm, you could barely hear them above the buzzing in your ears. For a moment, your vision blurred as you stood up in one violent motion, your chair falling to the ground with a loud thud. Your brutal movement led Zoya to take a step back, anticipating your reaction and potentially violent way to attack her back but nothing came. 

You stood rigid in front of her with blood splattered on your diaphanous skin and white outfit, your chest heaving as your quick, shallow breaths resounded in your skull. The crimson streaks soaked the fabric and created a grim contrast with your pale, delicate figure. Of course, you’d have loved to erase the smug smirk on her lips by pouncing on her and ripping her face with your own sharp nails in an animal-like fit of rage, but your body was petrified. Your eyes burned with uncontrollable anger, unblinking, as your fists clenched at your sides, even more trembling under the weight of the humiliation.

“You—” Your throat went dry before you could say something else, your resentment so deep that it strangled you, choked every word you wanted to utter and every insult you wanted to scream.

“What’s the matter, little Saint?” Zoya tilted her head, beaming.

“Is this how we treat one of your own, now?” 

The shadows in the corners stretched toward the two figures standing, creeping slowly in black smoke curls, and the more they came close, the more it seemed to feed the storm that was building up inside you. As the atmosphere became heavier, silence fell again in the room and hushed all whispers as the Black General appeared, emerging through the thick fog of his darkness. Without wasting time nor condescending to glance at Zoya, Kirigan moved toward you with an unsettling calm, his pace conveying determination and his boots echoing softly against the luxurious stone floor of the dinning hall. The two obsidian of his eyes, sharp and as dark as midnight, locked onto you as if you were the only person in the room worthy of his attention. And despite the silence, the weight of his presence was deafening. 

When he reached you, General Kirigan stopped, standing close enough for you to feel the shadowed intensity as well as his power radiating from him. Not a single word was uttered, not a sound escaped his charming lips. Instead, his hands rose, unhurried and confident, to undo the few closed buttons of your blood-splattered fur coat. The gesture might have been simple, but it carried a startling intimacy as his fingers brushed gently against the edge of your collarbone when he lifted the coat away and let it fall at your feet. The intense feeling of humiliation still crashed against you like brutal rogue waves crashing against the shore, rendering you unable to hold his gaze. As you bowed your head, your fierce nature momentarily flickered at the sight of your ruined dress with its thin white fabric soaked through and clinging to you like a second skin. But even drowning in humiliation, the light touch on your collarbone sent a surge of electricity through your whole body.

In this moment suspended in time, Kirigan’s eyes dropped, lingering on your body for a bit too long. Surprisingly, his expression held no disgust or pity — only something unreadable, almost reverent. Something scorching, making you feel exposed both physically and emotionally to the extent that your breath hitched in your tight throat. As if he had stripped you naked with the sole power of his eyes. 

“Look at me.” The Black general said in a low voice, the very top of his index finger delicately pressing under your chin to force your gaze to meet his, dizzyingly deep and intense.

Blood rushed quicker in your veins in return, every fiber of you reacting to him in an uncontrollable instinct. It was only then that he shrugged off his own black kefta in a fluid movement, but the subtle care with which he unfolded the luxurious garment and wrapped it around your shoulders was anything but cold or impersonal.

 The fabric of the kefta was thick and warm, its weight providing a comforting and protective embrace that immediately calmed both your fury and feeling of shame down. Finally, your petrified body came back to life as you batted your doe lashes as though you had just woken up from a terrible nightmare. It had been the unmistakable scent of him — earthy cedar, spiced amber, and a fragrance darker, undefinable — that had helped you emerge from that feral state of rage. A hypnotizing, reassuring smell that enveloped you like a shield and anchored its owner’s presence in every thread. 

He patted your shoulders, then took one step back just enough to give you more space. “You’ll sit with me,” he said, his voice low, cutting through the tension like a blade, and his tone leaving no room for argument.

You almost opened your lips to speak but restrained yourself to do so for the way he uttered his order had been truly disarming. It wasn’t a question, not even a suggestion. No, it was a statement, one that accepted no debate. And even though the only thing you truly wished at this moment was to run away from this hellish place and lock yourself in your bedroom, you still followed Kirigan when his hand pressed lightly to the small of your back to guide you forward under the glance of every member of the assembly and a gutted Zoya. 

One step after the other. 

The dining hall seemed to fade as he led you across the room, his touch steadying your trembling steps and giving you the strength you lacked to ignore all the pairs of eyes that were riveted on you. Once he reached his table, Aleksander pulled out a chair, the scrape of wood against the floor creaking, and he gestured for you to sit. Hesitation crept into you but the way his dark, shining eyes softened ever so slightly — not in kindness but in reassurance —  encouraged you. Moreover, pushing him and rushing out of the room wasn’t an appropriate option anyway so what else could you do besides sinking into the seat? He took his place beside you as the officers seated at the table exchanged confused looks but knew better than say something for their deference to the General was absolute.

The dinner unfolded, and exquisite plates followed, but the humiliation you had suffered earlier lingered, giving you a bitter taste in your mouth. And there were their eyes, their fucking eyes staring at you in a way so nerve-racking that you wished you could have plucked them out of their sockets with your nails.

It was halfway through the meal that Kirigan’s gaze flicked discreetly toward you, with an expression still unfathomable. One look was all it took for him to sense the unease that seeped through every bit of you. Maybe that was why, hidden beneath the table, his hand sought yours. You froze slightly, surprised at the sensation of his fingers finding you, warm and firm, and lacing yours together without hesitation. 

“Let them stare. They’ll grow bored of it really soon.” 

The gesture was grounding, a silent lullaby for your soul, and relaxed you enough to allow you to exhale a shaky breath.

“I feel like an animal in a bloody zoo.” You whispered, the word ‘zoo’ spat with disgust as it painfully reminded you of the Menagerie. For the umpteenth time, Aleksander seemed to read through your thoughts for his gaze briefly dipped to your wrist, catching the faint outline of a tattoo partially obscured by the sleeve of his kefta you were wearing and that was too large for you. His brow furrowed slightly at this observation, curiosity gleaming in his dark eyes but you turned your arm and hid the mark right away before he could study it further.

“I know the feeling.” Kirigan replied after a few seconds, his voice briefly letting you grasp a tinge of humanity before he turned to stone again and shifted his attention from you to discuss war strategies with Ivan. 

Your shoulders relaxed a little bit and, finally, you started to eat — or rather to carefully pick a few things from your plate just so you wouldn’t have to sleep with an empty stomach. Your two hands remained intertwined during the entire meal, his thumb sometimes brushing lightly against the back of yours in a soothing caress, like an anchor amidst the storm. Admittedly, the intimacy of it sent a jolt through you in a mixture of comfort and confusion that only deepened the inevitable pull you felt toward him. The way his touch quieted the turmoil in you was both thrilling and suffocating, a contradiction that left you shivering… As you always did when he was around. 

It was wrong.

This whole situation made no sense. And still, you tightened your grip around his hand. Needy. Surely.

Tenderly.

The office was dimly lit by the dozen candles flames dancing around, feeble and slow, and casting their long shadows across the walls. 

Zoya was standing stiffly near the doorway, arms behind her back and her posture irreproachable, though her confident demeanor crumbled under Aleksander’s cold, unwavering gaze. Leaning against his desk, the shadows around him curled faintly at his shoulders as a visible manifestation of his restrained anger.

“Close the door,” He ordered without looking at her with a voice calm but edged with steel. Wasting no time, Zoya obeyed. The click of the latch sounded far louder than it should have in the silence of the office. 

Aleksander spoke first while looking directly at her, his pitch-black eyes sharp and accusing. She couldn’t help but notice that he had fetched his kefta back from you once you had reached the door of your bedroom safe and sound “Do you enjoy embarrassing me, Zoya?”

She gritted her teeth. “With all due respect, General, I’ve done no such thing. I merely—”

“You merely threw blood on a member of this court.” Cold fury crackled from his tone. He had given her no chance to justify her behavior for he had already charged her guilty,  “In front of everyone. Did you think that it was acceptable behavior for a soldier under my command?”

Zoya stiffened, “She’s dangerous. A liability. I was making a point—” Her lips tightened into a thin line.

“A point?” Aleksander’s voice had turned into a hiss now , “What point, exactly? That you are envious of someone stronger than you? That you cannot stomach the presence of someone who makes you question your own worth?”

“She doesn’t belong here!” Zoya burst out with trembling words but her tone bore clear hints of both defiance and frustration. “She almost killed me! You’ve brought in a wild animal and expect us to treat her like—”

“Quiet.” His order was like a whip, “You will not speak of her like that again. Do you understand me?”

As Zoya’s fear momentarily eclipsed her anger, she stuttered, “General, I only meant—”

“Do you know what I meant, Zoya?” Against all expectations, the tall darkness’ voice was deceptively soft and still, and yet it cut deeper than any shout, “I meant for you to serve this court with dignity. To protect your fellow Grisha, not humiliate them for sport. Tell me, did you feel powerful when you poured that blood on her? Did you feel strong?”

This time, the fierce Zoya Nazyalenski looked away, “I was protecting us,” she muttered, though her speech lacked conviction. “She’s—”

“She is under my protection,” Aleksander interrupted, “And that should be all you need to know. You will respect her because I demand it. Not because you like her. Not because you understand her. But because you respect me. She’s part of this court and you will treat her accordingly.”

Tears started to prick at Zoya’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I’ve served you faithfully for years,”  She lamented, “And you would cast a loyal follower for her?”

Aleksander leaned over his desk to come a tad bit closer to her, his gaze filled with threats that didn’t need to be spoken to be horrifying. “For someone with your talents, Zoya, you can be remarkably shortsighted. This is not about her or you. This is about the unity of Grisha, something you should value more than your petty grievances.”

For the first time in years, the Squaller flinched as though struck by lightning, her confidence shattering in millions of shards like a broken mirror under the General’s unemotional eyes. He straightened and waved off the topic, “You may go. And if I hear of any more incidents, there will be consequences far greater than this conversation.” 

At first, she remained still and hesitated, as if she desperately tried to search for some trace of leniency in his expression but she found none. Just plain disappointment and anger as cold as the deadliest blizzard. For Zoya, pride had always been her armor, but today it cracked, leaving her exposed to a truth she could no longer deny: the General’s favor was a fortress she would never breach. A fortress you had conquered in the span of a few weeks while she had worked on it for years. As the door closed behind her, the sound was not just the end of a conversation—it was the shattering of the illusion that she still stood untouchable.

And even though no one had overheard what they had said, many saw Zoya leaving the General’s office in tears. Quite a paltry price to pay for the humiliation and pain she had bestowed upon you earlier.

Please consider reblogging and commenting if you want the story to continue. It is what motivates writers to write the next chapters...

tags: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989, @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune

[megumimania]

(NOT SO) SECRET SANTA

summary: secret santa takes a twist this year as you exchange gifts with the kyoto school. leaving you rushing as you try to find a gift in time.

tags: fluff, reader being a terrible procrasinator, satoshoko crumbs, todo being takada chan’s biggest supporter, can you tell that secret santa is the bane of my existence?, todo being todo, megumi and yuji being fortnite merchants, nobara and reader maximising their joint slay and gojo’s credit card!

a/n: after scrambling around westfields for the past two days, i thought id share the same emotions in this fic!

“i am never doing this again.” you tell nobara as you weave through the crowd at the mall. yelling ‘excuse me’s’ or apologising as you squeeze past people to get through.

the mall is packed to the brim, with shoppers racing to get their last minute tidbits for christmas before the shops close before the holidays. nobara looks up from her phone, giving you a look that screamed ‘girl be so serious rn’

“you know you said this last year right?” she points out before she stops to look at pair of cute earrings, taking a picture of them. which makes you huff in response because you know that she’s right.

this time last year you were literally on the verge of a nervous breakdown because you could not find anything decent at the mall. this being coupled with the bright flourescent lights and the massive crowds and the loud music sucked up your energy real fast.

you ended giving megumi a sweater that was poorly wrapped and a christmas card that was signed with your tears. at least megumi appreciated the effort that went into your present for him.

“but that was last year, i was a whole different person then with a different set of responsibilities.” you playfully roll your eyes as you mutter to yourself annoyedly “gosh can’t people learn and grow anymore?”

you realise that you’ve lost nobara a long time ago. as she is now talking to the sales person about those tiffany earrings, a trademark tiffany blue bag swinging around with her as she enthuses about jewellery with the sales rep.

whilst you do love seeing her in her element when it comes to fashion, you had pressing matters to consider like what the hell you were going to get todo for christmas.

yes that todo.

this year gojo and utahime for some odd reason, to which megumi attributed to a sure sign that the end times were soon upon us, decided in order for the two schools to see eye to eye with each other that there should be a secret santa gift exchange between the two schools.

they announced this in november giving you ample time to meet up with todo and get to know each other and figure out what he liked. you let him pick all the locations for your meet ups as you read in a book somewhere that a person’s choice of location says a lot about them as a person.

and boy did todo’s choice of locations have a fuck ton to say about him.

in the 6/8 times you met up with todo over this period, he took you to a total of three locations: a takada chan listening party, the gym and a takada chan themed night at the gym.

seeing grown men belt their hearts out to takada’s lyrics whilst doing twenty reps of bicep curls was one way to spend a lousy thursday evening but you learned a lot about him.

the first most obvious thing was his love for takada chan, the second thing was that he smelt really good, like immensely good for a guy which lowkey pissed you off and the third thing was that he was a self care buff, especially when it comes to health and fitness.

in fact in the first twenty minutes of your second meetup, he managed to devise with you a skincare regime based on your skin type.

you were as flattered as you were somewhat offended but when you began to finally implement his tips and tricks, you saw a massive difference in your skin. so you couldn’t really be mad.

and what did todo learn from you?

just your type in men and women, you didn’t know what he was gonna do with your vague description of your ideal partner being “sexy as fuck” but todo was a man of many surprises so you just had to wait and see.

so this was propped up to be easier than ever, you could simply buy him some takada merch and you’d be on your merry way.

however your idea of a easy ride with this gift exchange came to a screeching halt when todo told you that he didn’t want a “takada related gift” because there was more to him than his love for an idol.

you were thrown for a loop, two weeks before the gift exchange and all the takada chan paraphernalia that was holding space in your dorm room had to go back. thank god the return window for some of these items were still open.

the rest you had to sell on facebook marketplace meeting up with all sorts of people behind the school to sell the merchandise.

nobara and maki joked that you looked like a shady drug dealer and they were partially right but trying to haul a life size cut out of takada into the back of someone’s car really ruined the allure of it all.

if dopamine was a drug you’d be rich, you really underestimated how much people’s happiness came from other people especially when it came to an idol/famous celebrity.

your last minute pursuit for a christmas gift for todo led you to a book store. despite his jock-esque character, you later found out that he’s really smart and what do all smart people love? books. yes it was stereotypical but as you perused the sections you found a book that you thought he’d like.

“hey nobara, do you think todo is a self help type of guy?” you turned around showing the book to her. you both knew the answer, even though you doubted that he needed the ‘help’ provided within the books, he’d definitely enjoy the premise of the books.

nobara takes the book from you turning the book around to read the blurb, handing it back to you with a shrug. “the guy has enough energy and passion to power the whole of tokyo, i think he’d like this.”

and with that the book and some other items, you got in your last minute rush were secured. once you got back you wrapped the gifts and left them by the office, ignoring gojo calling you and nobara to his office.

he probably just noticed the 1.6 million yen that left his account after you and nobara bought matching van cleef bracelets at the mall but he’ll live, both of you combined have spent more on his card than a measly 1.6 million.

“gojo, leave the kids alone!” shoko instructed him in that stern doctor voice she only used when she was in the middle of healing several patients at once. it was the only voice he would respond to and respect.

“but shoko, they spent almost 2 million yen on my card!” he whined, gojo always being one for the theatrics. everybody knew that gojo’s wealth was almost boundless, the 2 million he lost today would be made back in a matter of days.

you rolled your eyes as you headed over to chill with megumi and yuji in the common room, who were in the middle of an intense game of fortnite to notice your presence.

it was finally time for the gift exchange, you and todo sat in the canteen as you finally exchanged gifts between one another. “merry christmas todo!” you chirped as you handed him his gifts.

you watched him open the presents studying his reaction closely to see if he liked them or not. he finally looked up, unshed tears brimming in his eyes as he held the self help book and the set of candles in his hands.

“this is the nicest and most thoughtful gift anyone has ever gotten for me.” he sniffles as he reads the card, hands shaking slightly. you were slightly concerned at the level of reaction he was showing. was this normal?

“you even wrote this on a takada chan christmas card, this is too much. thank you.” he pulls you into a hug that knocks the air out of your lungs, you bask in the praise for the time being, if only he knew the hell you went through to get these gifts.

“you’re welcome.” you reply after a while, he finally releases you and watches you open your present with wide eyes, it was perfume alongside some skin care goodies and such.

you sprayed the perfume on your wrist, letting it sit for a couple of minutes in order to smell the main notes. whilst at first the perfume smelt sweet and flowery, after a while the more stronger notes of amber, cacao and sandalwood came through.

“woah this is…” you smelt the perfume on your wrist trying to find the word for this all alluring, all consuming scent. it was so sweet yet so seductive.

“sexy as fuck?” he replied, a shit eating grin forming on his face as he knew that he made the right choice. part of you wanted to groan at the poor attempt of a joke but this was christmas time—a jovial time so you let him have this one.

“how did you figure this perfume out from those two words?” you asked still curious but he leans back on the chair with a simple shrug, chuckling slightly. “even though your type is shallow as fuck, I realised that deep down you are a cool person—so I just got a perfume that exuded that vibe.”

you smile at the compliment and the acknowledgment that your type was shallow as fuck because it was spot on.

you were on a high, this time your procrastination finally didn’t come back to bite you in the ass, since you managed to get todo’s whole set of gifts in time for this christmas exchange event.

but just as you’re about to pat yourself on the back todo speaks up once again.

“hey…uh is there any reason why you left the tag on the candle?”

shit.

well you can’t win at everything.

[holnnetd]

No rejection under my roof

Tbh, I saw a silly little tiktok and I was like, damn. Me too. So anyway, I'm projecting (it fucking took me ChatGPT to figure out what that word was again) and I truly believe the men are just like that.

So have some silly headcanons:

(I haven't proofread it yet, so sorry for everyone reading this!)

This is only fiction, please remember.

Jonathan Price is... oddly okay with it. You need to work on your career you say? He's sure he could pull some strings. Well, only if you go out with him to that new coffee shop down town. Just to discuss the opportunities of your future. Of course. He's pretty sure he'd look great with a successful lad next to him. He'd show you off, proudly telling that you don't only look godly and make the best spaghetti, but you're also a badass that's hardworking.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick smiles as you deny him, telling you that it's fine and he understands. Until he shows up to your family home one day, chatting up your relatives like they are old friends? You smile kindly, confused as to why he's here and you just hear your family say what a nice boy he is and that he helped them carry groceries one day. Even helped them cook that dish they'd only eat for special occasions. Really, what s weird coincidence. Oh and they want you guys to know eachother? Maybe date? Huh... Really suspicious.

Simon "Ghost" Riley would stand stumped before you, feeling slightly confused and embarrassed at being rejected. Why would you... Reject him? He can't go back to the team after they told him to go for it. He'd stare at you in silence, believing you straight up just didn't hear him. So with a gruff expression he asks again, "would you want to date me?", just to make sure you hear him right.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish is absolutely convinced that "I'm freshly after a break up" means "Please make me forget about him" and he takes it as his personal challenge. Without knowing the reason of Saud breakup, he will blame to ex, saying that he should have watched out better for such a beautiful lad like yourself! What batter way to get on your annoying, bad ex then to send him a video of you getting absolutely fucked into next week by a bigger dick then he could have hoped to have? Really, that would crash anyone's ego.

Alejandro Vargas would be pretty persistent. He's a man of passion and I cannot accentuate it enough, but he would do so much for anyone he likes. He knows that maybe he's about to destroy a 7 year friendship with you, but he really can't stop himself from physically kissing up your hands to pepper your pretty, pretty face with every bit of love. You're precious! Please let him shower you with his love. He might start showing up at your house every day if you don't!

Rodolfo Parra listens carefully as you tell him that you have too much on your plate right now to accept. Really it's too much. And he just smiles awkwardly, handing you the bouquet, "we can eat together if it's that much. Two heads is more then one" he says and if you're not swooned, you don't deserve him. He is by your side to help you out with any problem you might have. Too much to chew? Well, only metaphorically speaking, give some to him. (Please don't literally, I swear it's just a metaphor) There is nothing he can't handle with a little bit of stubbornes and persuasion.

Valeria Garza wouldn't take it to heart. She understands being in any shape of form tied to the mafia has huge risks and maybe not everyone's preference, but she stays open for you to come back. Talking you that she will always help out if there is a problem. And problems did came surely. Someone framed you for stealing? The cops were being awfully rude, gave you a speeding ticket and then someone broke into your house? Bad luck, huh? You can't stay in your house after it being demolished, but you really don't want to risk your family with had luck. So the only way out is to grab the hand and become a mafia bosses spouse. Don't worry, she made sure no one else dared to touch you anymore.

Philip Graves wouldn't take no for an answer. No matter your argument. You have a boyfriend? Doesn't matter, dump him. Philip is better. He has money, a charming smile, even more money, and lawyers that could sweep one dead body under the rug. Maybe 3, if you are as stubborn as he is. But when there is no man in your life? Oh, he's so guilt tripping you with his money into dating. He brought you so many gifts, how can you say no while there is a fresh bouquet of flowers in front of your door with a box of jewellery with his initials somewhere engraved on them?

Farrah Karim. Nah, just why would you reject her, really? Don't. No one would. She's sweet.

Alex Keller doesn't understand what you mean. You see him as family? Good, he's a family man! It sounds to him like you want a family with him, and hell who is he to deny his beautiful girlfriend a family. You want a kid? Sure! You don't want one? You two can settle with a dog for the time being, really. He's an open guy, not really wanting to accept denial. It's not really denial at this point. Family loves eachother! So you two have to do that too. And maybe love eachother in bed.

Vladimir Makarov wouldn't even ask to be dating. He'd send not so vague threats and straight up demand of you to be his spouse. You were kidnapped and threatened with a gun to your head to marry him. Yeah. That's... How it went. Very romantic. It's either a, you die now or you die later with me. And hopefully not being stupid you'd rather live with a terrorist for a while, not having to worry about working until you two die. Maybe separately, maybe if you stay loyal and nice to him he will hold you while either of you dies. That's the most romance you will get from this power driven man.

Now come the fake ahh characters that I especially love:

"König" (of course) would be devastated to hear that you cannot date someone like him. Why is that? Is it the amount of dead bodies he had touched with his hands?? He will wear gloves whenever touching you, of course! Maybe it's because of the scars on his body? Don't worry, he will get tattoos over them so you don't have to see any! Maybe it's how he looks??? He swears he will shave his arms and legs and cut his hair- No! It's because if his height, right Schatz? He's to tall, of course... Well don't worry your head, he doesn't mind staying on his knees. Actually he's quite fond to stay there, as long as your legs are on his shoulders and he gets to press his lips into your flesh. Poor overthinking puppy.

Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin is looking at you with a raised brow as you tell him you can't stand him. Well then sit down. He drags a chair over to you, forcing you to sit down on it. You will sit, until you can stand him again. And then you will go on a date. Tired of him? Take a nap, it's not that deep. Hell, maybe a good cuddle session in his bed is what you need! He will drag you to his bed, in uniform or not, force you to lay down before plopping on top of you, making sure you're not tired anymore. Tsk, escaping from the tiger? Please.