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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 9 days ago

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Chapter 15: I Don't Know What You Did To Me!

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (IT'S TIME BABY!), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 22K (Hear Me Out... It's Wonderful)

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Denial, A little bit of self-deprecating thoughts, Jealousy, Anger, Rage, A WHOLE LOT OF SHOUTING, Stan Edgar Being A Jerk, Sexist comments, Illusions to Sex, Heavy Petting? Making Out (It's ABOUT time), Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright, hear me out... I know this is a long one, but I got so excited and the sun was in my eyes, and I forgot where I parked my car and... well... I got tired of the cliffhangers. 😂 But seriously y'all I am SO excited 😉🥰

The apartment was cold and dark when you walked through the front door, but the plants called out to you, filling the silence of the early morning, rustling and turning towards you as you enter. The curtains on the windows in the living room were closed, but the sunlight that dripped beneath the fabric was sufficient to see that Ben wasn't there.

It had been exactly seven days since you'd walked out of this apartment with Ben beside you, arguing with him about finally letting you go to work, seven days since you'd killed your brother, and seven days since Ben had tried to call you and you hadn't answered.

You wished you had. The guilt stirred in the pit of your stomach from not picking up the phone and to remedy it, you'd tried to call Ben, but he hadn't picked up.

And before you could talk yourself out of it, you'd sent an awkward text with the one word that you could think to say:

"Hi."

I'm such an idiot.

You really didn't know what else to say, not after everything that had happened. Not to mention you didn't want to tell him how much you'd wanted him there with you, how you'd imagined him riding on the bus alongside you while the wooded forests quickly shifted into farmland. You didn't know how Ben would react to that, especially since you weren't sure how that seemed like a friend-thing and you still weren't sure why you wanted him with you when your entire life fell apart.

But Ben hadn't answered the text, and he hadn't tried to call you again, which only made you feel worse for not answering his call a week ago.

You had been expecting him to at least try to call one more time or text you, but he hadn't, and there was a gaping hole inside that continued to open wider and wider with each passing day that you didn't speak to him.

He's probably out on a date or something. Has more important things to do than listen to my soap opera or help me pick up the pieces of my life.

It did still feel like it was in pieces. Everything you knew had changed within the course of a few hours, but you were glad to have your grandmother with you.

You had stayed with her instead of going back to NYC, allowing her to cook for you and soothe you the best she could with cups of tea and the love that she'd always had in abundance for you. It was still a little weird to think of her as a supe, but it was getting easier to swallow, and it felt like you were seeing her for the first time.

Since you'd talked about her time as a supe, she'd been opening up more about the past and you loved hearing all her stories. It also was making you see Ben in a new light.

Your grandmother knew more about his childhood than Ben had ever mentioned to you. He never seemed to be forthcoming with any information about himself, but the things that she'd told you about his father and the way he treated Ben made your blood boil.

It made you want to raise his father from the dead just to put him back in the grave all over again.

Of course, knowing all of this now made you feel worse for not picking up his call. A part of you thought that it was odd that someone who was so concerned for you at the hospital after everything happened with Elijah had gone radio silent.

And it made a part of you worry about him. Yes, as your grandmother had put it, Ben was more indestructible than you were, but you couldn't deny the fact that you were worried about him.

But as much as the last seven days had been soothing, there were still some odd moments.

For example, you'd woken up earlier one morning and followed your nose into the kitchen where your grandmother was making breakfast only to hear her muttering "what a fucking idiot" under her breath. Weirder still was another time you'd come back from the bathroom only to hear her cursing while she aggressively knit something that looked like a sweater and heard her whisper "I'm going to kill him. Could I have been any clearer?"

You hadn't asked her what she meant, but you'd assumed she meant her next door neighbor Mr. Filbert who was about the same age as your grandmother and was the bane of her existence. Each day she would have a new complaint that made her march over there and yell at him about something.

Personally, you thought he liked it when she yelled at him. Not to mention every Christmas he always brought over a large bottle of Brandy, your grandmother's favorite, and she made a chess pie specifically for him at the annual Christmas party she threw.

Annie and you had been shipping them harder than the post office the week before Christmas for years, but nothing ever came of it. In fact, the two of you had a yearly bet to see if this was the year that Mr. Filbert would finally do something about it or if it would be your grandmother who stopped being so stubborn and blind to what was in front of her face.

You couldn't imagine being that way if you saw how much someone liked you or went out of their way to care for you.

But being at home for a week made you feel better.

Everything that happened was settling over you, the newfound strength of your powers, your connection to nature, and there was the other thing you'd noticed, but were afraid to think about.

The thing you realized after you stepped out of the creaky shower and looked at yourself in the mirror without being covered in dirt.

At first you thought it was a trick of the light, but turning your face this way and that had confirmed it. The small wrinkles on the top of your forehead had faded, your laugh lines weren't as pronounced, and even the few gray hairs that you'd had since you pushed yourself too hard in high school and your first, and only, year of college, were gone. You were visibly younger and the only thing that you could think of that changed it was how you felt when you absorbed the energy of the plants. You remembered how it felt to absorb their life force, to have the energy flooding through your body taking away your pain, and healing what was broken. It felt like the best kind of high there was, your body melding with the tangled vines and unfurling leaves, feeling connected to everything in that shop while it made you whole again.

Standing there and looking at yourself, but not yourself in the mirror was weird and a little overwhelming.

There was also a part of you that didn't want to become an creepy old lady who sang to glowing flowers in the middle of the woods in the dead of night.

Annie had noticed it the moment that she'd seen you, and the two of you had discussed it over a Alien movie marathon, what it would be like if you could take the life of plants to make yourself younger and if it meant that you could live longer.

You figured that it was as good as true.

But to get back in tune with your powers you had sat outside in the back garden meditating. It seemed to work. Sitting out in the warmth of the day, with the breeze wicking the sweat at the back of your neck, the grass brushing against your worn jeans, and the call of nature all around you, it made you feel at peace for the first time in a long time.

It was nice to have a few moments to yourself, but that also meant that the thought of what came next seemed to hover over you. You knew that you had a long way to go before you fully got in control of your powers again, but you also knew that you couldn't hide in Illinois forever.

It felt like you were running from everything that happened, and you knew the longer you stayed away the harder it would be to go back to NYC, face the aftermath of Darren's death, and see Ben.

Although, he hadn't showed up, Annie had. She came on the second day and spent the next four days with you the same way the two of you spent your weekends growing up: with nostalgic movies, junk food, pizza, and copious amounts of wine, while bundled under plush blankets and pillows on the living room floor.

But the more days that passed when you were in Illinois, the more you were aware that something was missing, and now standing in your apartment you felt the same way.

Why?

Bean comes shooting out of your open bedroom and down the hallway in a frenzy, practically knocking into your ankles in his haste to brush his dark gray coat against your legs. He purrs loudly to get your attention, and you drop to your knees to pet him, staring into his luminous orange eyes.

"Hey Bean, did you miss me?" You smile at your cat, rubbing along the curve of his back the way you know he likes before you work your fingers under his chin.

The creature, now named "Rex" was perched on your shoulder like a bird of prey watching Bean with curiosity. The name was chosen due to how it looked like a T-rex with longer forearms whenever it stood up on it's back legs, but not from ferocity. He was a bit of a cuddler, more so than Bean. You also thought that Ben would appreciate the name given how much grief he'd given you when you told him your cat's name.

Bean glances up and hisses at Rex, who curls into your neck as if he's afraid.

"Oh, so you’re fine ripping someone apart, but you draw the line at meeting your brother?” You smile reaching up to scratch along his neck.

Annie had been terrified of him at first. She’d heard from Butcher exactly what he had done to Darren and was wary that Rex could grow into a maneater at any moment.

But Rex didn't seem to have man eating tendencies, at least now he didn't.

And when it came to Annie you figured that she was angrier that she hadn't gotten a shot at Darren.

She's waited a hell of a long time.

Bean narrows his eyes and raises his paw to swat at Rex, the claws scraping off his smooth leaf-like coat and leaving behind no damage. Rex cowers further into your neck.

"Stop acting like a jealous, only child." You chide the cat. "I love both of you the same way. And you've got to get along."

Bean makes a low noise in the back of his throat but leans into your hand asking for more rubs.

You indulge him for another minute, before looking up down the dark hallway. "Ben?"

The name echoes through the apartment, but Ben doesn't appear in the hallway.

I wonder where he is. Maybe he's at Butcher's.

You had spoken to Butcher once, who'd assured you that he, Frenchie, MM, and Hughie were cleaning everything up and that there wasn't anything for you to worry about.

You trusted Butcher to handle it. The last thing you wanted was to be unable to walk down the street because everyone was running for their lives and screaming while hoping you didn't unleash Rex on Manhattan.

One of the vines on the opposing wall flicks the light switch on, bathing your living room in artificial light. You pause, your hand frozen on Bean's back as you look over the living room and kitchen.

The apartment is spotless. There are no empty bottles of scotch, no half smoked blunts in the ashtray on the coffee table, no empty pizza boxes stacked next to your couch, and no dirty clothes and socks strewn around the room. In fact, there aren't any clothes at all or shoes.

Everything that belongs to Ben that was once scattered over your small living room is gone, leaving the room almost uncomfortably bare.

Is he doing laundry?

You strain your ears to hear the tell-tale sound of the sink or the shower in the bathroom, but don't hear anything.

Maybe he cleaned up because I was gone?

It seems a little out in left field, but you reason to yourself that Ben had tried to clean up while you were gone, just like he did when you got back from the hospital two weeks ago.

But as you walk down the hallway towards your bedroom you notice that the hall closet when Ben keeps his other things is empty. Every article of clothing, every shoe, every sock, and the small box of personal items that Ben had never let you see into was completely gone.

Something inside your chest begins to crack, you're not sure what, but all you know is that it doesn't feel good. There's an odd foreboding feeling that sends alarm bells off in your head.

Did he leave?

The thought is like a punch in the gut and your chest tightens, making it difficult to breathe.

Why would he leave without telling me?

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and scroll through to find Ben's number. This time you don't hesitate to hit the call button.

Each time it rings you can feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into something that you can't describe. You didn't understand why he left, and why he wasn't here when you got back.

Was it because I didn't pick up the phone when he called? Was it because he finally figured that I wasn't going to sleep with him and he decided to leave?

He doesn't answer, but this time you leave him a voicemail.

"Hey Ben, it's me. I just got back to the apartment and all your stuff is gone, which means either we got robbed or you got kidnapped by your evil brother." You laugh awkwardly. "But I'm back in town so you should call me and let me know if your stuff should be here or whatever-um-" You clear your throat trying to keep your voice from shaking a little. "Just call me back okay?"

When the final beep sounds whatever it was you were feeling was lodged deep into the back of your throat and this time, as you look out over the pristine living room and kitchen you allow yourself to notice just how empty it looks without Ben in it.

"Babe!" Annie calls waving her hand from where she sits at one of the artisanal wrought iron tables at Calamity Coffee Co to catch your attention.

The inside of the shop was identical to the last time the two of you were here. There's still a collection of best-selling author's to be lining the wooden bar along the front windows, still a much too happy barista who grins when you walk through the door, and still a group of people sitting on the plush velvet couch talking about absolutely nothing at all while sipping colorful coffee mugs

It was surreal, as if the past two weeks hadn't happened and you were the same person that you were then.

Annie had left about two days before you came back to the city after she got a phone call from someone at Vought demanding that she come back for some "big emergency."

You still had no idea what the "big emergency" was, but you figured that you were about to find out. Annie hadn't been able to send you more than a handful of errant texts in which you planned this coffee shop meet.

Truthfully you weren't sure that you could share any of her enthusiasm or her excitement over what the "big emergency" was. You were still swimming in whatever the feeling was at Ben's sudden disappearance and his radio silence.

You'd thought that the feeling would have passed and tried to think about all the positives about him not living in your apartment would be, but the list was shorter than you expected, and the negatives were mounting higher with every passing minute since you'd called him and left the awkward voicemail. It was odd, especially after how hard you'd fought for him to not live with you, and how hard you'd tried to convince him that he didn’t want to live with you, but the feeling was still there.

Maybe he didn't move out and maybe he's been kidnapped and taken back to Russia!

That thought was distressing, but you thought that if Ben had been kidnapped your apartment would have looked like a train ran through it. Not to mention there wouldn't have been fresh water or fresh food laid out for Bean, almost as if Ben had been back to feed him.

But if he had voluntarily left, you still didn't understand why he had. You racked your brain trying to come up with something, some reason why Ben wouldn't be there, some little detail that you missed in the week that led up to the big explosion that was Darren's death and the destruction of "Please Don't Die," but you couldn't remember anything.

If anything, Ben and you were getting along better than you had in the days that lead up to it. He had been more attentive, had taken care of you in his own way, had sat with you on the couch and watched his ridiculously cheesy old films and pouted whenever you laughed at the lines he had delivered in all seriousness.

And the only reason you could come up with was that Ben genuinely didn't care about living with you or being around you as much as you thought he did and that he was tired of pretending to be a nicer person.

So basically, you were back to square one and you were trying to shake off the feelings that had started to bloom whenever you spent time with him and Ben acted like someone who you could love, someone that you could see yourself with. The same feelings that you had fought to push down and ignore because you didn't want to feel that way about someone like him.

The rays of the mid-day sun stream through the large windows catching the glints of gold in Annie's hair. The steam from her latte swirls and tangles out from her cup, crawling across the table to where the iced latte she ordered for you sits. The condensation has already started to drip down the plastic outside to the white napkin beneath, smudging the purple script of the coffee shop's name printed on the paper.

"Hey." You smile and embrace your friend.

It was good to see her again, but she looked more tired than usual. Her makeup was smudged beneath her eyes and her hair wasn't tied up in her usual high ponytail, but instead was thrown over her shoulders and finger combed.

"I missed you." She sighs into your shoulder. "Work is killing me. Ashley is going to be my thirteenth reason I swear." Annie rolls her eyes.

The wilted wildflowers in the center of the table perk up in your presence without you focusing on them.

"I missed you too." You reach into the front pocket of your overalls and extract Rex, who is now about the size of a coke can, and who crawls across the table to say hi to Annie.

She gently scratches under his little chin the way she knows he likes. "You're not going to eat me are you?"

"He already ate-"

Annie's eyes widen. "Not Bean!"

"Are you crazy? Do you think that I'd let him eat Bean? No. He had some cat food. Surprisingly he likes it so I guess that's what I'm gonna feed him and-"

"What is that thing?" A barista asks as he passes Annie and your table on the way back to the counter, toting a large tray of dirty mugs.

"Oh it's a-" You clear your throat thinking of something to call Rex. "It's an Aconitum Napellus." You reply saying the only name that could come to mind and hoping that the barista didn't know the scientific name for wolfsbane.

"Wow I've heard about those I think!" The barista replies leaning towards where Rex is stretching out in the sunlight on the tabletop. "Aren't they super rare?"

"Yep." Annie nods her head, the picture of seriousness. "My friend saved him from a guy who was practically part beast." She shoots you a wink, understanding exactly what Aconitum Napellus is.

"Can I pet him?" The barista's hand is already halfway to Rex, but you reach Rex first and pull him to you.

Honestly, you didn’t think that Rex would bite his finger off, but you didn't want to take that chance.

"Um. No. He's kind of finicky about other people." You laugh awkwardly.

"Bummer." The barista shrugs and walks back to the counter.

"You really think that it's a good idea bringing Godzilla out like that?" Annie takes a sip from the steaming cup in front of her.

"I don't think he's vicious unless I tell him to be." You look down at where Rex is curling into your arms. He's grown maybe another inch or two, but not enough to attract unwanted attention.

"And are you going to tell him to be?"

"Now?"

"I need to know, just in case I have to start running for my life."

"I'll keep you posted, just try not to piss me off today." You snort reaching for the latte on top of the table. "So, what was the 'big emergency.'"

"Oh my fuck! You're not going to believe this!" Annie leans across the table. "But it's kinda a big secret so you can't tell anyone, at least until not after tonight."

"Why tonight?"

"Because tonight is the big official announcement/celebration." She braces her elbow on the table and extends her pinky. "Special pinky swear me."

"Special pinky swear? What are we ten?" You roll your eyes at her.

The special pinky swear was the secret handshake that Annie and you had come up with when you were eight after Annie got kissed by Matthew Colson in second grade behind the giant oak tree in the schoolyard. The "special pinky swear" was only used in moments of complete seriousness. The same handshake had seen juicy secrets the two of you had shared over the years with no one else. When Annie lost her virginity to Drummer Boy, when the two of you got high in Esther Masterson's family cornfield, when you stole a bright red thong on a dare from Victoria's Secret, and when Newton and you had sex for the first time in the backseat of his dad's pickup truck senior year at Look Out Point. All of these moments had involved the "special pinky swear," so for her to bring it up, meant that this was big.

You hesitate. You don’t know why, but there's an odd feeling tugging in the back of your mind, almost as if you know what she's going to say before she says it.

"Babe." Annie wiggles her pinky over the table and you take it.

"Okay, what is it?"

She's still leaning on the table towards you, her blonde hair falling forward over her shoulders, and her eyes bright with her secret. "Ben is joining The Seven."

You sit there for a moment, her words not quite comprehending in your mind. And when it does, you feel the same tightness in your chest when you realized that all of Ben's stuff wasn't in your apartment anymore. You forget how to breathe, how to act normal, because you didn’t understand why Ben would do that, not after everything that happened with Payback.

"What?" You choke out.

"Honestly, I'm kind of surprised that he didn't tell you since the two of you are so close." She tilts her head to the side as if examining you for a minute.

"But why? Everything with Payback was so fucked up and that means he'd have to be around Stan again and-" You couldn’t finish the sentence, it felt like you were running out of air, a vice clamping down on your throat, because if Ben was going back to The Seven it meant that you'd probably never see him again.

Before the possibility of him being kidnapped or all his stuff being stolen meant that you'd run into him at least at some point, but this no way. You never saw anyone on The Seven save for Annie and that was because she still ran ops with Butcher and she was your best friend, but Ben and you were… nothing.

And standing in your apartment with all his things gone made that almost chillingly true. You and Ben were nothing more than roommates, and now he’d made that very clear by not telling you that he was moving out and taking another job. Nothing about that was the friendship that you thought the two of you were achieving.

Maybe it's a good thing, because I was beginning to feel things for him that I didn't want to and now he's gone I don't have to worry about it.

The thought didn't make you feel any better. Something inside felt like it was shriveling up and dying, something that you didn't know had grown and bloomed within you the moment Ben moved in.

"I know!" Annie exclaims. "But Hughie told me that while we were gone, Ben stormed into the apartment and confronted Butcher, said that he 'didn't feel appreciated' and that he was 'sick of all the bullshit' and that he was 'fucking done.' Hughie said that Butcher was pissed, but Ben must've gone to talk to Stan because they're officially announcing Ben or rather Soldier Boy's glorious return to Vought as the leader of The Seven."

"Wow the leader that's-" You swallow, voice hollow. "That's good for him."

"More than good. They're throwing him one of those ridiculous over the top parties tonight to celebrate and re-introduce him to the press." Annie takes another sip of her coffee, practically shaking with the excitement over the news. "And holy fucking shit!"

"What?" You breathe. Suddenly the room is spinning and you're not sure that you're getting enough air to your brain. You feel like you've been punched in the gut and at the same time feel like everything inside of you is spilling out.

You couldn't understand any of it, couldn't understand why it felt like Ben had broken up with you or why it felt like your heart was breaking, not over Ben of all people.

Why? I don't love him or like him. He's my friend or… I thought we were becoming friends.

"Stan is literally just falling at his feet. He's been busing in these slutty looking women that all go up to Ben's apartment, and you have no idea what I can sometimes hear through the walls. Those women are so loud." Annie makes a disgusted face, and you could only imagine what she was hearing.

It was the reason why you hadn't let Ben bring women back to the apartment, because your walls were thin and you didn't want to be subject to hearing his live action porn shoots. You knew the exact kind of person that Ben was when he moved in with you, but the week you'd spent with him before you killed Darren was different. He was kinder, softer, more patient with you, and willing to help you. Not to mention overprotective because he didn't want you to leave the apartment or even lift a finger with your broken arm.

You think about how Ben hadn't been on a date that entire week, that he stayed at the apartment with you and how he didn't act like he saw the woman in the grocery store hitting on him. Your jaw tightens as you fight the urge to cry, not quite comprehending why you were feeling this way.

What did I expect? He's the same way he's always been. And maybe he really was pretending to be different around me so that I'd sleep with him. Ben is Ben he's…

You think about what your grandmother said to you, about Ben acting differently than the one she knew. How Ben cared for you at the apartment and in the hospital was so different than the person she'd been friends with in the 80's. But now you weren't sure.

I don't need him anyway. He was just my roommate and now I have the couch all to myself.

You think, but it doesn’t bring any comfort

Annie's eyes focus back on you. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"No actually I'm not feeling that great all of a sudden." It wasn't a lie, you felt like you were going to throw up with all the memories you had with Ben swirling around your head. You didn't understand why this was happening.

In the past Annie and you would have giggled and laughed about something like this, but you didn’t feel like laughing at all.

"Oh no. Was it the latte? I'll come with you-" She starts to get up, but you hold up one hand while using the other to put Rex into your front pocket again.

"No, it's okay. I've just got a headache, and I don't think I'm ready to be around so many people, after Darren, you know?" It was a lame excuse, but you knew that it was the only thing to say that would make Annie leave you alone. "I think I took it too fast or something."

"Oh. Okay." She looks at you sympathetically. "Well text me when you get home? I want to make sure that you're okay."

"I will. I love you Ann."

"Love you too babe."

You rush from the coffee shop, trying to put as much distance between everything Annie said and you, but it's still all there in your head making it spin.

Why did he just leave without saying anything? Why didn't he tell me that he was being offered a place on The Seven?

You think to yourself, gaze on the sidewalk as you go, following the cracks and the blackened lumps of gum that have been smooshed against the concrete.

And why the fuck do I care so much? It's his life, he can do whatever the fuck he wants to!

The flowers in the black circular bins outside the florist shop wither and die as you pass, spilling multicolored petals at your feet that you trample underfoot.

He never said that he wanted to be friends. It was me that said it at that ridiculous fundraiser. Me that told him countless times that I didn't want to sleep with him.

The trees that are planted sporadically along the sidewalk shed their leaves when you walk underneath.

And I don't want to sleep with him. I want a relationship, I want love, I don't want just a one-night stand with someone like Ben. I deserve more I-

The thoughts were the same ones that you told yourself whenever you felt yourself considering falling into bed with Ben. The ones that usually brought the memory of your parents dancing to "Gonna Sing You My Love Song" by candlelight in the kitchen when they looked at each other like there was no one else in the world. You wanted that kind of love so badly that you could feel it in your bones.

But this time when you think those thoughts, it's not your parents that appear, it's Ben and you sitting on the couch in your living room with him reading the newspaper and you reading a book.

Stop it. Ben doesn't want that. He's made it perfectly clear that he doesn't want a relationship. And I guess he doesn't want a friendship because he just up and left without telling me!

"Excuse me!" You hear a voice say followed by your name, but you ignore it, and continue down the sidewalk.

The tears were close to falling and you didn't fully understand what it was that you were feeling or why you were so upset about Ben leaving when it meant that you could get your apartment completely to yourself again.

"Excuse me!" The voice says again and this time someone grabs on to your left shoulder yanking you backward.

You'd only seen Ashley once.

The first time Annie invited you to Vought Tower to look at her ridiculous apartment, Ashley had made you sign an NDA before you did. What exactly she thought you’d see you weren’t sure. It wasn’t like you were as oblivious as everyone else to the way the heroes of The Seven acted when the cameras weren’t flashing.

But Ashley looks the same as she did the last time you saw her, thinning red hair, sharp black suit that's buttoned over her chest giving the illusion that she doesn't have anything on underneath, tacky necklaces, crimson lipstick, and just like last time, she's not looking at you. She's typing something furiously on her phone as if she couldn't be bothered to acknowledge your existence with her eyes.

You hated when people did that.

“Hi." Ashley says with false sweetness, drawing it out too long to be natural. "Can you get in the car please?” She asks, still not looking up from the phone in front of her and gesturing with her head towards a gigantic black SUV that idles on the curb. It's easily bigger than your grandmother's truck and has windows so dark you can't see into the backseat.

Probably something Vought gets custom done to hide what goes on with their fucking heroes.

“Why?” You ask.

Did she hear Annie tell me about Ben? Wow, she works fast, I’ll give her that.

Your gaze shifts to where your building is just a few steps down the sidewalk. You were thinking about ignoring her, and continuing to walk down the street, but a part of you was intrigued.

“I don’t have time for this, get in the car.” This time Ashley looks up from the phone with a forced smile.

It's the forced smile that makes you decide to keep walking. You were tired of people trying to manipulate you with false sweetness to get what they wanted.

“I heard you the first time. No.” You reply before turning to walk down the sidewalk.

She moves so fast that you'd think she was A-train, putting herself directly in your way.

Ashley lowers her voice to a whisper. You didn't know why she was doing that. "Look, if you don't get in the car it's my ass. And I'm not going to be fired because one of Soldier Boy's sluts is acting like a little bitch and refuses to get in the car."

One of Soldier Boy's sults? Soldier Boy’s SLUT?!

"I don't know where you're getting your information, but I am not one of his sluts." You spit.

"Well, the only people I've been picking up for him all damn week have been." Her mouth twitches up into a smirk. "So, the options are you either get in the fucking car or Javier is going to put you in the car." She gestures to the behemoth of a man sitting in the driver's seat of the SUV, who smirks at you.

"Oh, is he?"

"Yes."

All the emotions that you'd been feeling about Ben begin to reach a peak in your chest and something finally snaps. You didn't want to deal with any of this, all you wanted was to go home to your bed, and yet here Ashley was treating you like you were some weak-willed little girl who would do everything you were told. It's the same thing that Darren used to do with you, and like hell you were going to let anyone do that to you again.

"I’d love to see him try." Your eyes shift to bright green and the entire world begins to tremble. You could feel the trees that lined the streets turning to watch, the roots that pushed and tangled through new earth stirred beneath the streets and sidewalks, the flowers in the florist shop two doors down that had wilted and lost petals twist together and burst with new life before spilling out onto the sidewalks, and Rex who was sleeping soundlessly in the front pocket of your favorite overalls drops to the ground at your feet, snarling as he grows to the size of a microwave.

"Holy fuck!" Ashley shrieks and takes a step back from Rex who snaps his jaws at her feet. His pointed stick-like teeth now the length of a pencil, clicking together.

"You should be more careful who you threaten." You say, your voice lowering. The energy of nature around you was thrumming through your veins, electrified by your anger. "It might be the last thing you do."

Just as Rex takes another step towards Ashley, who is quickly running out of sidewalk, the backseat window rolls down, and you see Ben sitting there with an annoyed expression.

"Just get in the fucking car Petals." He says with a sigh.

Has he really been back there the whole time?

"Are you shitting me Ben? You’ve been in the backseat this whole time? Why didn’t you get out to ask me to get into the car yourself?" You shout, eyes still a bright green.

I guess that's why she was whispering, didn’t want Ben to hear her call me one of his "sluts."

The thought made a surprising wave of anger and frustration crash over you when you remembered what Annie had said about Vought busing in women for Ben. You didn’t understand why you were upset; you knew the kind of person he was, knew that was what he went on dates to do, but for some reason the thought of him having a non-stop orgy at Vought tower after he had taken care of you and acted like a completely different person made you livid. It made you think again that he had just been putting on a big show to trick you into sleeping with him.

"That’s what that bitch is for!" He gestures to Ashley who is practically cowering against the car while Rex snarls between the two of you, now the size of a post office box.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "I can’t do this with you. I’m going inside."

“Wait.”

“I don’t want to wait Ben.” You reach down and scoop up Rex who shrinks in your arms back to the size of the coke can before he hisses at Ashley one last time. She looked like she was going to faint, but you didn't feel guilty.

"Are you really going to make me get out of the fucking car? Ben shouts above the sound of traffic.

Honestly, you really didn't feel like talking to him, not when you weren't sure why you were upset with him.

All he did was move on with his life. Why do I care so much about that? He was going to move out eventually and I didn't want him to live with me anyway. He was crashing on my couch; it wasn't a permanent situation and-

The thought of your couch makes an odd feeling rise in your chest for a second as the memory of him and you picking it out at IKEA come floating back. Despite how much Ben annoyed you, you’d had fun with him at IKEA trying out the different couches and getting coffee. It always surprised you how you could enjoy spending time with him, even when he annoyed you without end. But you had enjoyed yourself. Just as you'd enjoyed yourself when the two of you watched tv on the couch and when he walked with you to the shop and picked you up at the end of the day.

“You don’t have to get out of the car. I’m going inside.” You turn and walk away from where the SUV is idling on the curb, weaving through the foot traffic.

I don't want to talk to him. I just want to go into my apartment and forget everything Annie told me and forget that Ben doesn't live with me anymore.

“For fucks sake.” You hear Ben grumble under his breath when you turn away, but you don't stop walking. "Petals!"

You can see the glass double doors and brick steps that lead up into your apartment building up ahead, but even with how fast you're walking Ben catches you easily.

"Wait." Ben moves to block your path just as Ashley had.

He looks different than the last time you saw him standing in the street asking you to let him make sure you were okay and asking you to let him take you home. And if you were acknowledging it, Ben looked better than you remembered.

He's still wearing the same jeans and t-shirt combo, except now you can see that they're made of nicer material, designer, and he's wearing a large golden Rolex on his left hand that you're sure someone at Vought bought for him. Ben's dark hair isn't falling into his face, it's a little shorter, more controlled. You liked it better the other way, but you weren't going to admit that to yourself.

Even his beard is trimmed, and you wonder if Ashley got him a stylist and a hair/makeup team to spruce him up before his big debut.

Oh yeah. The debut he's making after he moved out of our apartment and didn't tell me, and after he's been fucking whatever comes across his path all week.

The thought makes your jaw clench together.

That's the way Ben is! He's been going through women since he got back from Russia. That's not new!

You thought it to make yourself feel better, but you can still feel the tightening in your chest that you'd been feeling since Annie told you the "big news" and you realized that Ben moved out.

Then why does it kind of hurt?

"What?" You sigh.

"I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Can you get in the fucking car first?"

"No. I don't want to get in the fucking car, nor do I know why I need to get in the car!"

"Because I want to talk to you!"

"And we can't do that here?"

"No!"

You cross your arms over your chest and refuse to budge. You knew that it would only annoy Ben that you were being stubborn, his stubbornness also drove you to the point of insanity as did his taunts, so the two of you were at a stalemate and you refused to give in.

"Fine." He seethes. "I'm joining The Seven."

“I heard. Congratulations. You’re getting everything you want." You clip.

“Just about.” He mumbles under his breath so low that you don’t think you heard him right.

"I don't see why that involves me."

"If you'd shut up and fucking listen to me for a minute I'll tell you!" He snaps.

"Don't tell me to shut up Ben! Who fucking disappears without so much as a note? Who up and leaves without telling their frie-," You clear your throat to change the word. "Their roommate that they're moving out!?"

"You didn’t want me to live with you!”

"Maybe at the beginning but-" Your cheeks redden for a second and something flashes through his eyes that you've never seen. "I mean, it's not that bad. And after everything I thought that you'd still be here when I got back."

"Well if I recall, you left without telling me where the fuck you were going and didn't pick up my damn phone call!"

"I called you back! And I texted you! It's not like I was completely radio silent!" You stamp your foot in frustration. "And why are you going back to Vought? They got your team to stab you in the back and took your genetic material to make a psychotic freak!"

"Because Stan Edgar called me and he said he wanted me to be the new leader of The Seven!"

"Oh please, you believe that guy? He only looks out for himself. If you trust him again, he's gonna give you another one-way ticket back to Russia."

"He's not going to fucking-"

"Yes he is! And if you thought things through instead of jumping in feet first, maybe you wouldn’t land into a pile of shit! Now if you'll excuse me. I have to do some laundry, but whoopdie fucking do! It seems like all your dreams are coming true." You try to step around him, but Ben shifts his body to block you.

"Just fucking listen to me." He snaps, green eyes flashing in the sunlight.

"What? What do you have to tell me that's so important you had that red-headed bitch try to shove me in an SUV for?"

"They're throwing me a damn party tonight and I want you to come with me." Ben shouts back at you, eyes blazing in anger.

Your mouth drops open. It was the last thing that you were expecting him to say. If anything, you thought that he was going to try to get you to come with him to Vought to make a pass at you, not invite you to probably one of the most exclusive events of the entire year.

"What?"

Ben still looks angry but uncrosses his arms from his chest. "I want you to come with me to the party."

You clear your throat to dissipate the shock, your anger coming back. "Why me? Why not any of those other women that Stan's been bringing to the tower for you?" You snap. “They certainly seem to be more your type. Probably look a lot more impressive than I do on your arm."

You hadn't seen them, but you could only imagine what they all looked like. Ben's matches on tinder he often bragged about and had shown you photos as if he needed to prove how attractive they were to someone else. Of course, then you'd told him to just stuff it in a tube sock like everyone else rather than risk the venereal disease.

"What did I tell you about saying shit like that about yourself in front of me?" He looks angry again.

You think back to the day the two of you shopped for a couch at IKEA and Ben had yelled at you for making a self-deprecating joke about being "useless."

An odd look crosses Ben's face for a split second when he realizes what he said, before he smirks to hide it. "Are you jealous Petals?"

"No."

"Because you're acting like you are." He smirks wider. "Kinda sounds like you've been having Annie spy on me for you."

"I didn’t have her spy on you! She can hear everything that you're doing, and she told me because we got coffee today and she wanted to tell me your oh so wonderful news. That you’re the leader of the Seven and that means you have an endless parade of women willing to fuck you.”

"All women are willing to fuck me Petals."

"Not me."

Something flashes through his eyes that you can't place.

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a minute, before you sigh. "Ben, I don't think that I should-"

"I want you to come with me because none of them are supes and I want you to understand what being a supe is supposed to look like." He interrupts, but it doesn't sound convincing enough.

"I don't think any of that is real or how it's supposed to be!"

"How would you know anything about it? This is the Seven. The most powerful supe team in the world-"

"Just because it's the most popular doesn't mean that it's the most powerful. And I'm not sure I want to be a part of this. My grandmother told me what it was like for her and-"

"But you've never experienced it!"

"Well, no."

"Exactly. So just come with me tonight."

"I don't know Ben. I'm not sure that I'm up for being around that many people after everything, you know? I-" You swallow. All the feelings of frustration, confusion, and anger were slowly dissipating, and it was leaving behind something you didn't want to think about. "I stayed in Illinois because I needed a few days to get away from all of this and I don’t think that I can rush into it all over again the day I get back." You could feel the memories of the day you killed Darren beginning to come surging back, followed by the realization of how out of control your powers could get.

Not to mention that standing here and looking at Ben was making the tightness in your chest worse.

Then Ben does something he never has, he reaches out and takes your hand. “Come on Petals, just one night.”

He was saying Petals in the soft way he had two weeks ago when he had been taking care of you after the hospital, and it made warmth pool in the pit of your stomach.

"But-"

"And I won't leave you alone at the party with any of those boring fucks. Or with that octopus fucker.” He interrupts, trying to convince you.

"One night?"

"Yes."

Your eyes drop to where he's holding your hand gently between the two of you. It was odd for him, especially because he'd never done that before, even when you had nightmares, Ben never held your hand like this. It was always an awkward cradle, but for him to fully entwine his fingertips with yours it between the two of you was shocking. You raise your gaze to his unblinking green eyes. "Do you promise?" You whisper.

"Yes. I promise, one night and if you hate it, I'll take you back to your shitty apartment building." Ben smiles as if it's a joke, but it stings a little bit.

It was the first time that Ben had ever referred to the apartment as just "yours." You'd gotten so accustomed to him calling it "our apartment" and to hear it that way made your chest tighten more. Maybe it was because it was settling in that Ben wasn't coming back, that he wasn't going to move back in or be a part of your life anymore.

"Okay. One night." You nod and let Ben lead you back to the car holding on to your hand.

Why is he doing this if he's been fucking his way through New York's female population this week? Why does he care so much that I be the one to go with him to this ridiculous party? Any one of those women would be ecstatic to go. And why is he holding my hand?

"Talk to her like that again and I’ll make sure that the next job you have is cleaning Stan Edgar’s fucking balls.” He growls to Ashley as he opens the door of the SUV for you.

And as you slide into the plush leather seats in the backseat, you begin to wonder exactly why Ben was so adamant about you "experiencing" what it was like to be a supe.

"So, what do you think?" Ben's voice echoes through the large living room/sitting room, vibrating against the floor to ceiling glass walls that stand at the back of the room and give a spectacular view of New York City that lays below Vought Tower.

From up here the rest of the world looks so small and out of focus, and you wonder if that's why so many supes lose their morals, because they're worshiped and put in places like this to look down on the people below.

Treat them like gods and that's what they'll think they are.

Annie's apartment at the tower was impressive, but Ben's is practically another planet. The entire place is filled with mid-century modern furniture, supple leather couches so soft it feels like you're sliding through butter, beautifully crafted wooden credenzas, and modern art pieces that you'd only ever seen prints of online.

The high lofted ceilings are so tall that you're sure the first three floors of your apartment building could fit inside, and there's an odd echo that follows everything Ben and you say. There is a tv so large it might as well be a billboard that sits on top of a wooden credenza and holds a speaker system that must be more expensive that a yearly car payment. It looks so intricate that you're afraid to touch it, let alone breathe next to it. The entire room screams wealth and not one piece of it is homey. It feels like a museum, as if someone tried to create something that felt like a home, but it turned into a time capsule of a time everyone else forgot.

You wondered if Ben ever felt that way and that way why he was really joining The Seven. If it wasn't just because Stan Edgar called, but because Ben felt like the world had forgotten who he was and he needed to prove it to everyone.

If that were true, you didn’t like that he thought that way. Yes, Ben annoyed you, but you liked who he was when he was with you. He never seemed like an old fossil that someone decided to shove into a box at the back of the Smithsonian, you liked the way he was, didn't think that he needed to prove himself to anyone.

Ben is standing behind you, leaning against one of the dark wood walls with a smile. You didn't know why he cared so much about your opinion of where he lived, not if you were just coming here for the party and then going back home to your apartment.

Your mind stutters on the word "home," because it hadn't felt like home when you got there, and Ben wasn't there. You didn’t want to admit that to yourself, but you knew it was true.

"It’s big." You say half-heartedly.

The apartment only made you think that Ben wasn't going to be living with you, a concept that you were confused as to why you were still saddened by, especially now that he'd had ample time to say goodbye. Before you’d been angry that he’d left without a note, but now you felt like you should be okay with what was happening.

You weren’t.

"Mhmm. Like it should be. Oh, you should have seen the good old days Petals. All the apartments, the hotel rooms, the houses they rented for us were like this. Not to mention everyone doing whatever the fuck you asked without hesitation, bringing me exactly what I wanted without argument. Fuck it takes me back." Ben sighs at the memory. "That’s how it’s supposed to be when you’re a supe. Not all of this squatting in small apartments and taking 500 jobs because you can't make enough money."

"I kind of like my 500 jobs." You say. "I've learned how to do a lot of things, and most of them are kind of fun-"

"Come on Petals." Ben rolls off the wall to get closer to you. "You're a bad liar and you know it."

"Fine. I don't like all of them, but I really like working at the senior center and at the plant shop-“

As soon as the words come out of your mouth, you're reminded of exactly why you're not working in the shop anymore and everything that happened with Darren. You hadn't called Jake yet or texted him. Again, you didn’t know what to say.

Honestly, you didn't even know if he was alive and the thought that you'd killed your friend hurt you.

"He's okay." Ben murmurs quietly anticipating what you’re thinking. "Saw someone helping him from the rubble before I got out of there."

"Good. I was worried that I-." You let out a breath and shake your head feeling relief stir in the pit of your stomach. “I didn’t mean to lost control like that and I-“

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. That asshole deserved it.” You can hear the anger begin to drip into Ben’s voice.

“I know.” You look around the room again at the fancy furniture and high ceilings to distract yourself. "This apartment is definitely big enough to manspread in. But it seems kind of empty though for one person."

"What?"

"I just mean- all this space.” You gesture to the vaulted ceilings. “What person needs this much space? At least in my one bedroom it’s a bit cozier.”

“You don’t like it?” For a second you think that he looks disappointed, but you think you imagined it.

“Nope. Not really my style.” You walk through the large living room exploring the apartment with Ben following behind you.

And you miss the way his shoulders slump just a little and the frown that pulls at the end of his mouth.

The bedroom is bigger than your whole apartment, with a giant four poster bed made of dark wood swaddled in gold and black bedding. The floors are made of black marble and there’s a giant fireplace that is so wide that a city bus could drive through no problem. The view out the floor to ceiling windows is even more breathtaking than the one in the living room.

“What no bearskin rug?” You snort at your joke, but for some reason it doesn’t make you smile.

All you're aware of is how weird this is, that Ben wanted you to come here and show you the way you "should" be living as a supe, and weirder still it was almost as if he wanted you to like his apartment.

Since when does Ben care what I think?

“Do you want a bearskin rug?” Ben asks, not sensing your sarcasm. "Because I can tell that bitch to bring one in here."

“No I was just-“ You sigh, but stop talking when you notice something green on the bedside table.

There’s a small pothos plant sitting there, it’s vines dangling over the sides of the table towards the floor a shock of green in an otherwise black and gold room. Ben didn’t like plants as much as you did. You knew that.

“Why do you have a plant?”

“It’s-“ He pauses as if embarrassed. “For you.”

“But you didn’t know I was coming?” You look over your shoulder. “And I told you that I was only staying one night.”

“I know.” Ben shrugs. “I got it earlier just in case.”

“In case?”

“You decided that you wanted to be a part of The Seven, or I don’t fucking know, just live here at Vought Tower.” He sounds angry, but you don't let it get to you.

“Well if I wanted to be a part of The Seven wouldn’t I get my own apartment? And if I stayed here, where would I sleep Ben? There’s only one bed.”

He bought me a plant? Did he think that I was going to sleep in here with him? Did he think that I was going to sleep with him?

“I mean we’ve shared before and you didn’t seem opposed to it.” He smirks, but when he notices that you don’t smile, he frowns. “I can sleep on the couch. It’s almost as comfy as the one we picked out.”

“Oh.”

“And actually if you want I can have them bring that one here too-“

The thought of the couch the two of you had fitting in with any of these outrageous displays of wealth was laughable, but again it confused you, because Ben was acting like he wanted you to move out of your apartment and into this one with him. Which, given how you heard he spent his week seemed ridiculous.

This is so weird. I have no idea what’s going on.

"So, um-" Ben clears his throat awkwardly. "How are you?"

"What?" You turn around to look away from the bedroom that looks a little bit like it belongs in a supervillain's penthouse apartment.

"Well, I mean-" He clears his throat again. Ben looks like it's difficult for him to say what he's about to, as if it's difficult for him to carry on a normal conversation. "Diana said that you were having a hard time."

"You talked to my grandmother?"

"Once. Before Stan called."

"Oh." You bite your lip. "I mean finding out that my brother killed my parents and tried to kill me wasn't exactly a walk in the park. But-" You shrug. "I'm dealing with it."

Ben nods as if he's unsure what to say. You noticed that when conversations got a little too personal Ben looked out of his element and you supposed that was what was happening right now. Sometimes it made you feel bad for him, as if he didn’t know how to act in a normal situation.

"Do I look different to you?" You blurt to clear out some of the awkward tension.

"What?"

"I mean, do I look younger? I thought that I was imagining things, but Annie pointed it out and I-"

"A little." He swallows.

"Great." You sigh.

"You don't want to look young?" Ben chuckles to himself. "Petals I swear every time you open that perfect mouth of yours you say the most outrageous shit I've ever heard."

"No, I mean I-" You wave your hand as if looking for the right words. "I guess I can make myself younger, but I don't think that I want to."

"Why not?"

"I mean if you live forever or longer than the average person you see everyone you love die. That doesn't exactly seem healthy."

"Not if the people you love don't die either." Ben says it quietly, almost to himself.

You snort. “My grandmother doesn’t live extra years, neither does Annie.” You hesitate to think of something that you never asked Ben. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Think about what?"

“When you and Countess were together. Didn’t you ever think about what would happen when she aged and you were well, you?”

Ben hesitates as if considering something. “Not really.”

“Why not?"

"You're full of questions today, Petals."

"And you're full of cryptic answers." You reply. "Come on Ben, you didn't think about that? I think that if I was with someone who didn't age that I would-"

"Someone like Jake you mean." Ben is frowning again, just as he always does whenever you bring him up.

"Why are you always so focused on him?"

"I'm not. Why are you so focused on Countess?"

"Stop answering my questions with a question!"

"I'm not!"

"You don't really have to worry about Jake. I think I blew my chances with him the minute that I destroyed his plant shop." You frown, reaching to touch the pothos plant that sits on the bedside table to get it to perk up.

Ben stands there for a minute watching you. "He's a fucking idiot if he lets that stand in the way of being with you."

Shock hits you like a bolt of lightning, and you turn to look at Ben, who suddenly looks very uncomfortable, as if he didn't mean to say that.

"Thanks."

He shrugs.

"And I think Countess was a fucking idiot and a Bitch for stabbing you in the back and making you love her."

"Thanks."

You shrug.

The odd silence is back, floating in the air between the two of you, something that you've never noticed before. You're not sure where it came from or what it's supposed to represent, but you wonder if Ben can feel it too.

“I-um- I’m sorry that I didn’t pick up the phone when you called. I didn’t know what to say.” You begin quietly. You wanted him to know that you had thought about picking it up, that you did want to talk to him.

“You don’t have to apologize for that Petals.”

“No I want to. And I’m sorry that I left you in the street like that. I should have stayed. I wanted-“ You stop talking, considering what you’re about to admit. “I wanted to stay with you.”

It seemed stupid to admit that out loud especially after you’d heard from Annie exactly what Ben had been doing all week, but you were so confused. You didn’t understand what you were feeling, didn’t understand why Ben asked you to come here, didn’t understand why he bought you a plant if you were only staying here for the party, and didn’t understand why you were so upset at the thought of going back home to your empty apartment.

Ben was confusing you again. He was being sweet and asking you how you were and he held your hand and he was genuinely asking you what you thought about the apartment and he bought you a plant to make you feel more at home. Not to mention he was acting as if the past week hadn’t happened, and it was still just the two of you back in your apartment.

And you could feel a cold chill of fear squishing your stomach into mush. You didn’t know what the fear was. Maybe it was because you were slowly realizing just how much you wanted Ben to be the man that he embraced when it was only the two of you. Maybe it was because you were realizing how much you liked being around him. Maybe it was because you were still cursing yourself because you didn’t want to fall for the wrong man. Or maybe it was because when Ben did things like this it was difficult for you to think that he was the wrong man.

He doesn’t want a relationship.

The thought doesn’t hold as much weight as it once did.

Ben’s hand gently touches the small of your back, turning you to look at him and making the thoughts evaporate. His green eyes search your face before he responds. “I wanted to come see you, but I thought you’d want to be left alone.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t want me to touch you in the street or check if you were okay and I wasn’t sure that I should-“ He clenches his jaw as if it’s difficult for him to admit this. “I didn’t think you wanted me there.”

“I did.” You whisper before you can stop yourself and his eyes widen in surprise. “Annie came to see me, but I wanted you. I-“

Ben gently traces your cheek with his rough fingertips, something warming in his gaze. The air between you is charging with electricity and you see his eyes dip to look at your mouth, before raising to your eyes once more. You know what he's silently asking you, and you want him to kiss you.

The memory of the two of you pressed against one another on your couch after the night Darren stayed in your apartment surfaces, the ghost of how it felt to be pressed against his body with your hands planted against the warm ridges of his muscles. You inhale a soft breath and it's full of Ben, enticing you forward, begging you to close the distance between the two of you.

Ben's thumb falls to the pillow of your lips, and they part in anticipation. Your body subconsciously moving closer to him so that your hands are resting against the soft fabric of his dark t-shirt. You can feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric soaking into the palms of your hands, a comfort in the chill of the marble covered room.

"I should have been there." He whispers. "But I-" Ben swallows, his voice no more than a murmur over the dull buzz of electricity that runs through the apartment.

The afternoon sun that shines through the glass windows behind you illuminates the flecks of gold in his eyes, making them a piercing green, and giving the illusion that they can see through you. Sometimes you thought that Ben noticed more about you than he was letting on, just as you noticed things about him that you were sure he tried to hide.

"It's okay." You murmur, leaning towards him, and letting your hands slowly move up the expanse of his chest.

“Sorry to interrupt.” A calm voice says from behind where Ben and you are standing.

The man standing in the doorway you'd, never seen in person, only on TV, but Stan Edgar is just as intimidating as he looks on the news. He's wearing a black pinstriped suit, a light blue shirt and a black tie. Not a piece of his outfit is out of shape. He looks calm and collected, not the frazzled out of control chaos that is Ashley when interacting with Ben.

And you hated him.

This was the man that had told Ben's team to stab him in the back and gave him to the Russians, and the man who gave Vogelbaum the okay to take Ben's genetic material and create Homelander. If Ben hadn't accepted the job with Stan, you probably would have ripped him to shreds.

Rex turns back from looking out the window and begins to skulk towards where Stan is, his beady black eyes narrowed up at the man. Stan looks down at the creature, who is about the size of a toaster now, in distaste.

“You don’t fucking knock?” Ben spits, turning around to face him, your hands falling from his chest.

“I did. I also called but you didn’t pick up your phone.” Stan says, undisturbed by Ben’s obvious anger. “Is she the new one that you made Ashley pick up?”

The new one?

His words settle in the pit of your stomach like an anchor making you remember exactly how Ben had spent his first week here at Vought. It made whatever the hell you'd just been feeling dissipate.

“Ashley was right, she certainly seems different than the others you’ve brought here. At least she’s wearing more clothes-“ Stan purses his lips looking you up and down. “Are you sure that you want her with you tonight? It is a big debut and-“

Stan was talking as if you weren’t there, as if what he was saying wasn’t insulting.

“What the fuck do you want?” Ben interrupts in a growl.

“We need to talk about how tonight is going to go. Not to mention Ashley has been waiting outside the door trying to muscle up the courage to knock so she can dress your date.”

“I can dress myself.” You say.

“Not for this.” Stan presses his lips together in a tight line, again looking you up and down as if you're a stain on his perfect suit.

Ben’s anger burns hot in the air, and you’re not sure if it’s because Stan interrupted the two of you or if it’s because he insulted you or if it’s because Stan just reminded you that you’re not special to Ben.

Because I’m not. No one who goes through women like that cares about them. What was I thinking? Ben’s probably using all of this in his grand plan of trying to sleep with me.

“Fine. Give me a minute and I’ll meet you outside.” Ben replies through gritted teeth..

“Don’t keep me waiting.” Stan gives you one more disappointed glance before he walks out the bedroom door.

Ben sighs as he turns back to you. “I-“

“It’s okay just go.” You take a step back from him. It was easier to clear your head when you couldn’t smell his shampoo or feel how wonderfully warm he is. “I’ll see you tonight. I guess.”

Ben hesitates as if there’s something he wants to say, but finally he sighs. “I’ll come pick you up. I think they're gonna fucking dress me somewhere else”

“Okay.” You nod once.

And as he walks out another uncomfortable thought begins to squeeze at your insides

What if this is Ben’s big move? Showing a woman a fancy apartment with a sprawling view of the city while inviting them to an exclusive party and acting like a completely different person, just to finally get me to sleep with him?

The flashing of the cameras and loud voices of the reporters shouting question after question made you dizzy. The brilliant lights blinding you as flash after flash barraged your senses from all sides. The lights were uncomfortably warm and the cameras that pointed at you made you feel like you were under a microscope.

It had taken an entire make up team and the four hours before the event to make sure that you were ready, with Ashley barking orders over the mad scramble of hands that touched every part of your body with no sense of shame. They had forced you to take a shower, and scrubbed your body so hard that you were sure there were skin cells missing, before yanking you out from under the warm water to dry you and tug and pull your hair in all different directions, trying to figure out exactly how you should have it done.

Whenever you tried to protest, someone would tell you how "fucking hot" you looked or how "sexy" you were. It didn’t make you feel any better and all you could think about was you hoped Ben was being subjected to such torture in another room of the Tower somewhere.

The team had rubbed you in creams from plastic containers and shiny body scrub so that you glittered under the lights and then slathered your face with more make up than you'd ever worn in your entire life. You felt like a doll being abused by a four-year-old who got her hands on a new make-up kit on Christmas morning.

When you'd finally thought it was over, Ashley had brought over a velvet box that held a diamond and emerald pendant that was bigger than the size of your thumb and made you feel sick to your stomach to think about how many groceries you could buy with the money it cost. When she tried to put it on you, you'd waved your hand and said that you didn't want it, but then she'd said that "Soldier Boy bought it especially for you and she'd be damned if she got killed over a fucking necklace." The drop emerald and diamond earrings that matched could have easily bought your grandmother's house in Illinois, but Ashley again refused to listen to your protests.

You didn't know why he'd bought you something so extravagant, especially if you were only going to be there for one night. The memory of what Stan called you followed the entire dressing process: “the new one.”

All it did was remind you that Ben didn’t want a relationship, and it was stupid to consider anything else despite how gentle he had been acting moments before Stan showed up.

The dress that Ashley had shoved you into was the same dark green of Ben’s supe suit, but made of a shimmery fabric that caught in the light. It was surprisingly close to the same style of the red one you wore to infiltrate the fundraiser weeks ago.

It hugged your body, clinging to the natural dips and curves, accentuating them and leaving nothing to the imagination. It was completely backless, held together by thin criss-crossing dark green fabric straps across the back that were so fragile you thought that any moment they would break. The front of the dress was plain and strapless, arching over the top of your breasts and cinched at the waist so tight you’re not sure how you’re breathing.

And it wasn't you, none of it was. The dress, the expensive jewelry, the party- it made you feel like you were five years old again and playing dress up with Annie in your grandmother's attic.

In the past whenever Annie did your makeup for you, at least she made you look like you, but after one look in the mirror, you didn't see you.

You wondered if this was what Ben wanted women to look like, so far from how they naturally looked, almost as if they were a shadow of themselves and plastered to be a perfect version of what an "ideal woman" should be.

But there was one piece of this outfit that seemed like you. There was a gardenia corsage on your right wrist, something that Ben had given you when you met up privately before your big entrance on the red carpet.

It had made you smile, something old fashioned he'd thought of and yet he knew you would like it because he knew that you loved gardenias. You were flattered that he'd remembered. He'd looked a little uncomfortable when he gave it to you, the same way that he always looked a little uncomfortable when things got a bit too personal, but he'd grunted out a "you like it?" and you couldn't help but smile up at him and nod, because you did.

And it seemed to tear you apart inside, because you wished you knew why Ben was doing all of this for you, why it was so imperative for you to see what this kind of life was like.

"Soldier Boy, is it true that you were overseas for 40 years?" A reporter screams from the sidelines into a microphone.

"Soldier Boy, who is she? Is she your new girlfriend? What's your name honey?" Another screams at you, but you don't answer.

"Are you a supe?"

"Show us your powers honey!"

It felt like you were on display and your words were caught in the back of your throat. Ben was next to you smiling and waving his hand, the epitome of cool, but you knew that you didn't look it. Your smile felt tight, and you were sure that the make-up plastered on your face was moments away from melting off your face.

His hair was slicked back in a very un-Ben way, his tailored suit was a dark green, so dark that it almost looked black except in the flashes of the camera, and he was wearing a black tie that shimmered whenever he turned.

You didn't think that Ben looked like Ben either, and something tightened around your throat when you looked at him, because all you could think was that this was the Ben he was becoming again to re-emerge into the public, the Ben you'd seen clips of in music videos, pictures, and old movies that donned the Soldier Boy uniform.

A little piece of your heart broke to see him like that, so different than the Ben who had gone to IKEA with you, the Ben who had checked on you when you had a nightmare, and the Ben who had slept in the hospital to make sure that you were okay.

And now that he was coming back to all of this, you thought that it meant you were losing him, and it hurt more than you'd realized.

The spotlights were blazing hot, your stilettoed black sandals were stuck in the red carpet, and you could feel the prickle of anxiety in the center of your chest crackling to life and spreading through the rest of your body. The urge to run was settling on your limbs, your body tenses, preparing to bolt-

Ben's arm comes around your waist and he pulls you against his chest, still smiling at the reporters, his hand now resting on the small of your back, and your hand goes to the front of his suit to steady yourself. He brushes his lips against your ear.

"It's okay Petals, I'm right here." He whispers, but you catch it.

His touch calms you, grounds you to the moment, and for a second the smile you have is genuine when the cameras continue to flash, your heart rate slowing with the warmth of his hand against your back.

"Thank you! That's enough photos." Ben flashes a winning smile and leads you past the paparazzi and into where the party is. He rolls his eyes with a sigh. "Fucking vultures."

You don't answer, instead you look around at all the other elegantly dressed people at the party, supes and non supes, and waiters who weave through the crowds with trays of food. You hadn't eaten anything all day, the only thing you'd had was a few sips of that latte, but you weren’t hungry

You felt so out of your element, so completely out of place, and the way you were dressed made you feel like a fraud. Annie had told you that she sometimes felt that way, but it passed. You knew that it wouldn’t for you.

She was here with Hughie. You'd seen her for a second and she'd looked at you in surprise. You hadn't been able to tell her that you were coming to this thing, because Ashley had confiscated your phone, stating that you didn't have enough of an "online presence" to post anything of worth.

You were living for the moment that Annie found you and you could collapse into her and hug her. Being here was just solidifying the fact that you weren't what Ben wanted, that Ben wanted this life, women, drugs, fame, and all you had was a crappy one-bedroom apartment in a shitty neighborhood.

And all you were was a hopeless romantic searching for something in someone that would never exist.

"Are you okay?" Ben asks you, and you snap back into reality. He's raising an eyebrow at you, looking almost concerned.

You hate that he was doing that, acting like he cared, when all it did was give you the false hope that he would turn into someone different, someone who wanted to have a relationship.

"Yeah, it was just a lot."

Ben clocks your frown and the scrunch between your eyebrows that he knows is you tell for when you lie. You hope that he doesn't point it out.

"Ben look, I know that you think that all of this is-" You wave a hand. "But it's not me. I'm not this girl I'm not-" Your voice catches for just a second. "The party, this dress, the jewelry I-"

"You don't like the necklace?" Ben frowns.

"I mean it's pretty, but all I can think about is how much it cost. And how expensive the insurance policy must be for it." Ben's lip quirks up in a smile. "I think you're the first person to ever think that when I got them jewelry."

"Exactly Ben. I don't know why you want me here. Stan said you should have brought a date-date, you know like them." You point at the twins hanging on Deep's arm who laugh and jump with whatever he says, both wearing identical dresses that look like they were rigged with fishnet and seaweed.

"I don't give a fuck what Stan Edgar thinks, and I wanted you to come to this with me. Just give it a chance, we've only been here a few minutes." Ben replies, but for a moment you think you see something that looks a little bit like disappointment in his eyes.

You bite your cheek and search his gaze, hoping to catch another glimpse of it, but you don't. "Okay." You relent, nodding your head.

Ben stands there for another minute surveying the room, watching the couples begin to dance on the dance floor, and others wobbling their way to the bar. He looks a little lost in thought, so you don't interrupt him.

"Wait here. I'll be right back." He squeezes your forearm before he vanishes into the crowd without another word.

"But-" You begin to say, but he'd already gone. You audibly sigh and begin to sway back and forth to the song, something that you're not sure the name of, but the words are melancholic, a man singing about a woman who thinks falling in love with him is madness.

Someone taps you on the shoulder and you expect it to be Annie, but when you turn you see Jake. He's smiling at you, his shaggy blondish brown hair falling forward into his tortoiseshell glasses, and he's wearing a charcoal-colored suit. There's a bandage on the left side of his face hiding a cut you can't see, but you knew what it was from. You'd never seen him in a suit and maybe the old you would have noted how good he looks, but you can't, not when seeing him is a shocking reminder of everything that happened with your brother.

"Jake? What are you doing here?" You sputter.

"My dad is one of Vought's lawyers." He shrugs. "Invited me to this. I think he thought it would cheer me up after well… you know."

"Fuck, Jake I am so sorry for what happened. I really didn't mean to drag you into all of that or-" Before you can finish your sentence, he pulls you into a tight hug.

"You don't have to apologize." Jake says not stopping the hug. "What happened wasn't your fault. Annie told me what happened."

"But I destroyed your shop. And your face! I-"

He pulls back with a wide smile, the same one that he'd had all the years that you'd worked for him. "It's okay. Honestly it could have been a lot worse, but Ben pulled from the wreckage. Guy saved my life. I owe him big."

"He what?" You ask confused. You remember that Ben said he'd seen someone else helping Jake from the rubble.

Why would he lie about that?

"He saved my life." Jake smiles wider. "Not to mention he called today, said that he's going to bankroll me for a whole new shop. For a guy who acts like he hates me, he's sure putting in a lot of money."

"He's going to pay for a new shop?"

"Yep. Good thing too. Thought I was going to have to be a lawyer again."

"You weren't too good at that." You snort.

"Don't remind me." He groans. "So you're a supe. And Ben is Soldier Boy?"

"Yeah, it's a long story."

"I guess I should have known you were a supe. No one can make plants grown that fast." Jake jokes, his glasses catching the lights. "And Ben's intimidating so, that tracks.”

"Guess so."

It was weird to talk to him again. You'd been avoiding it for the better part of a week, but the two of you were falling into the same patterns you had in the past, and it was nice.

But for the first time since you'd started working for Jake, you don't see the appeal of dating him. It was odd. All the qualities in a man that you were looking for was right in front of you and you felt… nothing. Sure Jake was cute in a puppy sort of way but-

"Ben hey." Jake smiles at where Ben appears over your shoulder, back from whatever mysterious location he had been in moments ago.

"Jake." He grunts his name and you can only imagine Ben's frown.

Jake looks back at you. "It was good to see you. We should meet up to talk about where I should put the shop and what I should name it. Ben had this great idea about adding fresh produce and fruit, and maybe doing a farmer's market on the weekend. I know how much you like that sort of thing." Jake looks up at Ben and extends his hand. "Thanks again Ben, you saved my ass, and I think this new shop is going to be great."

Ben takes it. "Don't mention it. Really." His voice lowers like it's a threat. "Don't fucking mention it to anyone."

"Sure." Jake winks at you before he walks away through the crowd in the direction of the bar.

There's an awkward moment of silence as you turn to look at Ben.

"Didn't take you long to find that pussy did it?" Ben's jaw is clenched tight and you notice that he looks a little angry.

"He found me." You find yourself feeling guilty, and maybe you were because you were technically here with Ben, but it wasn't a date. He was just showing you what all of this was like.

"Sure. Bet you were just waiting for me to fucking leave so you could get your hands on the perfect man." Ben shakes his head and begins to turn away.

"Careful there Gramps, someone might think you're jealous." You tease, scooting around him to stand in his way.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am not fucking jealous of him and-“

Before Ben can finish his sentence, you pull him in for a hug. You know that he was angry for some unknown reason, but you didn't want to be angry with him, not when he saved Jake's life, and not when Ben told Jake to add fresh produce, fruit, and a farmer's market because he'd remembered that it was your dream.

"Thank you Ben." You whisper into his chest, his body tenses in surprise just the way it was the last time you hugged him.

"You're welcome." He's not hugging you back, he's more resting his hands on your waist, and slowly very slowly you feel his right arm begin to raise enough to hold you for just a few precious seconds more against him. It made your heart beat stutter, because it was the closest thing that Ben had ever done to hug you back.

When you pull away your cheeks are flushed bright red, and the gardenia on your wrist now has a second bloom that Ben notices. He touches the delicate petals with a wide understanding smirk, his eyes catching yours.

"Guess you're having a good time now." Ben breathes.

"I might be." You whisper back. "Why didn't you tell me that you saved him?"

"Who?"

"Jake."

Ben frowns at the mention of Jake's name, his fingertips still tracing the petals where they barely kiss your skin. "It didn't matter."

"You saved his life. It does."

"I didn't want you to think that I did it because I gave a shit about him."

"What?"

Ben's frown deepens. "I'm not a good person Petals, I don't give a shit about him."

"Then why did you save him?"

He doesn't answer.

"Ben." You say softly, touching the front of his suit and he widens his eyes at your boldness. "Talk to me."

"I saved him because I didn't want you to find out that you killed him. I knew that you were going through a lot and I know you think that he's so fucking perfect and he's the man you love or whatever." Ben says it bitterly and it was the first time you think that you'd ever heard him sound that way.

"I don't love him."

"You will." Ben grits his teeth. "Because he's everything you want."

"Is that why you're giving him money for the plant shop? Because you think that I-"

"No, I did that because I know how much you love that fucking place and how much you hate all of this and being here with me and-"

"I don’t hate being here with you Ben." You admit before you can stop yourself. "I mean all of this isn't my favorite, but… you're my friend."

It hurt you a bit to say friend, but you didn’t want Ben to think that you hated him, not after he had saved Jake because he knew that it would have crushed you if you'd killed him, and not when he told Jake to add produce, fruits, and a weekend farmer's market just for you.

Ben stands there for a minute, the cameras flashing in the corner of your eye, and the longer you stand there, you're suddenly aware that "Gonna Sing You My Love Song" By ABBA was playing in the background, an odd choice for a party like this.

You look up at him in confusion, and Ben is smiling sheepishly, before you realize that was why Ben walked away before Jake showed up, to tell them to play it for you. Ben's hand lands against the small of your back and he begins to lead you towards the dance floor.

"What where are we going?"

"We're going to dance."

"Oh no. Ben I don't know how to dance and-"

"Just follow my lead Petals." He pulls you against him, putting your left hand on his right shoulder while his right hand finds the small of your back and his left hand catches your right.

You know that you must look ridiculous as you try to wobble along following Ben's lead.

"It's okay Petals, it's just us." Ben whispers with a smile, pulling you just a little tighter against him as the two of you begin to sway to the music.

And the longer you sway to the music, the more comfortable you feel being there with Ben. The warmth of his hand warming your body, his green eyes only focused on you, and the soft smile on his lips so unlike the Ben you saw smiling for the cameras a few minutes ago.

"Ben?"

"Hmm?"

"Why is it so important to you that I experience all of this?"

"Because everything you know about supes is from Billy Fucking Butcher. It's not always the way he says."

"But that doesn't really answer my question. Why is it important to you?"

Ben doesn't answer for a few seconds, measuring what he says. "Because I want you to like it."

"Why?"

“Because-“

And this time, instead of finishing his sentence, Ben leans forward and kisses you. His lips move with a softness that you never knew that he possessed, the hand he had on the small of your back holding you tighter against him, as your body molds into his.

This kiss is different than the one that the two of you shared outside of your apartment the first night he stayed with you, it’s filled with something unspoken that makes the weight in your chest lighten, that makes you feel as if you're floating above the dance-floor, but then something clamps down tight on your ankle and drags you back down to earth.

The song continues to play, the soft notes and words bringing back the memory of your parents dancing in a darkened kitchen lit only by candlelight, with your father looking at your mother as if she was his whole world. Their love and your grandparent's love had infused your childhood with something magical, a romance that seemed to transcend time and space, you knew how much you wanted it.

And standing here with Ben kissing you only reminded you that he didn't want that, that he didn't want a relationship, that all he wanted was to sweep you off your feet and make you his for only one night when you wanted a lifetime.

You suddenly heard Stan Edgar's words ringing in your ears when he called you the "new one." Just another in a sea of women who threw themselves at Ben for this exact reason, for his suave attitude, extravagant gifts, and lavish parties where he brought them to cling to his arm.

You remember what Annie said about how Ben spent his entire week in the apartment upstairs, how he spent a whole week fucking his way through whatever came his way instead of calling you or texting you back, and how he didn't seem to care that you wanted to reach him.

And it snaps you out of it.

You pull back from Ben's kiss and out of his arms, your head swimming with emotion. The urge to cry comes up in the back of your throat like vomit, but you shove it down.

Ben looks surprised and you figure that he is, because it hadn't worked, you hadn't fallen for it the way the others had.

He says your name for the first time in a long time, but you shake your head and take another step back from him.

"I can't do this Ben." You turn and flee through the crowds, feeling everyone's eyes on you as you stumble on shaky legs towards the elevator.

You can hear Ben saying your name again and then hear Annie, but you ignore them. You can't be here, you can't go back to the prying eyes of the reporters, and you can't look at Ben, not when he was pretending to give you everything you wanted and you could feel your heart breaking.

The doors of the elevator close just as before Ben reaches them, and your eyes lock with his through the thin opening. He looks the way he did the day you left him standing in the street the day you killed Darren. The same look flashes in his eyes, shock, worry, and maybe just a little bit of fear, but you can't look at him anymore.

The numbers on top of the elevator passes in a blur, the tears finally bubbling up and spilling over your cheeks, the make-up that was so meticulously applied smudging, but you don't care.

You want to get out of this dress, get Rex, and go home. Your real home, where Bean is waiting for you, curled up on the couch, where your plants are, where you could crawl into bed under the covers and forget that this entire night ever happened.

But then you remember how cold it felt when you left this morning to get coffee with Annie, when you were aware of how empty it was when Ben wasn't there.

No. Please just let me get through this.

You practically shoot from a cannon when the elevator opens onto Ben's floor.

Rex greets you at the door with a toothy grin, now the size of a Labrador, jumping from where he was curled on the plush leather couch to come say hello.

You scratch him under the chin, your tears still falling and you knew that they wouldn't stop anytime soon. Everything was crashing down on you again, everything you were realizing that you felt about Ben.

You stumble through the large apartment towards the bedroom hoping to find your clothes where Ashley had wadded them into a plastic garbage bag as if she couldn't look at denim overalls without vomiting.

And as you reach the bedroom door, you hear the door of the apartment open and Ben shout your name.

For a second you think about locking the bedroom door, but you figure that he'll only break it down. Ben’s track record with locked doors wasn't the best and you didn’t want this one to suffer.

You snag the plastic bag from the corner of the room just as he opens the bedroom door.

"Petals, what the fuck is going on? Why did you-" Ben begins to say, shutting the door on Rex who was sitting just outside.

"I can't do this Ben." You interrupt him.

"Do what?"

"Any of this!" You wave your hand around the room for emphasis. "I'm not this girl. And I'm not some bimbo that you can wine and dine and fuck and then throw away."

"What in the actual fuck are you talking about?"

“I can’t do this." You repeat with a sob, tears curling down your cheeks. You couldn't quite look at him, not without feeling like your heart was burning up. "So, whatever fucked up science experiment this is I want out. I can’t be here.”

“I thought we were having a good time? That you were enjoying yourself?” Ben says. "We were dancing and then I-"

“Why? Because you were pretending to be the man that I’ve always wanted, the one that keep telling me you aren’t? By making me fall in love with a version of you that doesn’t exist? So after you get what you want you just leave me?” You spit.

It hurt you to say the words to him, but it was how you felt. You felt like Ben was yanking you around on an emotional chain, trying to manipulate you by doing kind things, by acting like he cared, just so that you'd finally give in to him after saying no to him since the moment the two of you met.

It made you feel stupid to think that there was a part of you that believed he could be the man you fell in love with.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you down there changing tactics to manipulate me!”

“What?” Ben shouts looking utterly confused.

“Manipulate my emotions by playing that song, saving Jake, telling him to open a fucking farmer's market, and holding me like you actually care with the reporters and kissing me the way I want!"

“I wasn’t trying to fucking manipulate you-“

“Don’t try to lie. I know when you’re lying.” You point a finger at him, ripping the gardenia corsage from your wrist and tossing it across the room at him.

It hits him square in the chest and falls to the floor.

“I never fucking lie to you.”

"Oh please." You could feel the anger, frustration, and the feelings you had for Ben that you pushed down coming to a head. "You do. And I refuse to be 'the new one.'"

Ben's eyes widen in realization. "Are you talking about what that piece of shit Stan said when he saw you earlier today?"

"What else?! Annie told me exactly how you spent your glorious and masterful return to Vought. How you had Stan Edgar bus in women for you all week long!" You reach around to remove the necklace and the ears, fearful that you’ll break them in your anger.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING!" You scream so loud you were sure that the words were vibrating against the windows. "It's how I know you're manipulating me! Because if you really did care about me, and care what I like, and want to be the man who I saw downstairs or the man that came to check on me when I was having a nightmare or the man who sat in the hospital for days you wouldn't have been doing that all week. You would have been in Illinois with me!"

"I told you why I wasn't fucking there!" Ben shouts back just as loud.

"Oh sure. Mr. "I didn't think you'd want me there" What a great fucking excuse, just let me swoon!" You snarl back. The tears were falling faster now and showed no signs of stopping.

Ben's teeth grit together and he looks close to exploding, but you see him gain control. "Just shut up for one fucking second and let me explain."

But you're already past all of this. You were so tired emotionally and physically, so out of touch with everything that by now you could feel yourself slipping into insanity.

"No Ben, because you know what?" By now you're so frustrated that you're almost laughing. "Congratulations! Your big plan paid off!"

"What?"

"You've done it! You've won. You finally wore me down Ben. You finally did everything that I wanted, so come on let's do it! Let's fuck! Because who cares about all the fucking romantic pussy shit right?" Your hands scramble against the dress, the delicate material tearing off in your hands easily and leaving you in the lacy black bra and underwear that Ashley had forced you into. You advance on Ben, throwing away the ruined dress. "This is what you wanted right? Me naked and completely yours? So let's go! No emotions no nothing. Who needs any of that as long as you get laid? You'll get your five to ten minutes, and then you'll throw me away. Just like you throw away all those other women!"

Ben looks at you stunned as if he thinks you've lost your mind and maybe you have. Because you were so sick of this, of all of this, for trying so hard to refuse him, for trying to hold out for someone who you didn’t think you’d ever meet.

"But it's fine. Throw me away! People have manipulated me and thrown me away my whole life, but whatever you want Ben. Because it’s all about you! Oh wait do you want me to call you Soldier Boy? Would that make all of this better for you?"

Ben still hasn't moved and by now you're standing just a few inches away from you, the expression on his face unreadable.

You grip the front of his suit. "Come on. Take off your clothes!"

He says your name in a low tone, but you don’t listen to him.

"Oh what? Were you expecting something different? You want to pretend that you're going to make love to me? You think that’ll help?”

He says your name again.

"Oh you don't want me now? Is that it? Because I'm finally giving you everything you want?" You rip the suit jacket off of him, and reach to grab his shirt, tearing it and sending buttons flying everywhere.

"Petals." Ben growls, his jaw tight.

“No! Come on. You pretended to be everything I want, you deserve a good fuck. Come on!” You tug at what's left of his shirt, losing the fight to the emotions that continue to crash over you, sobs shaking your shoulders. You beat your fists against his chest, and you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels so damn good to hit him to release whatever the hell all of this was.

Ben's hands come up to grip your wrists the best he can to stop you, but by now you can't form words. Uncontrollable sobs are shaking your body, tears blurring your vision, your breath coming in savage gasps that do little to bring oxygen into your lungs. The makeup is smeared over your cheeks and you know that you look like a drowned raccoon by now, but you don’t care.

He whispers your name in a soft tone, in a way that you've never heard him say before, and it only makes you cry harder.

You collapse into his chest, shaking uncontrollably. You couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything except cling to the tatters of his dress shirt and sob into his chest.

Ben picks you up, scooping under your knees as if you weight absolutely nothing and places you on his bed, but instead of staying there with you he walks away and it breaks something inside, because all you can think is that you'd finally done it, you'd finally proven to him that you wouldn’t be one of the women who gave in and he really no longer would pretend to care about you.

You grab for one of the pillows, smearing your make-up onto the fabric and clutching it to your chest like a lifeline. You could hear Rex outside the door scratching because he wanted to check in on you, but you can't get up.

The bed dips and when you look up Ben is sitting there with a wash-cloth in his hand.

"What?" You sniffle.

"Close your eyes." He says.

You do as he says, sitting up so he can see you better. The washcloth drags over your cheeks, wiping away the makeup that was smudged and caked over your red cheeks.

“I never really liked makeup. When I was younger all the women used to look natural didn’t wear all this shit on their faces.” He rumbles. "I kind of like that you don't wear it as much."

The pressure of the cloth is surprisingly gentle against your cheeks far gentler than you would have thought possible. He adjusts his left hand to cup your cheeks, and as another tear falls you feel his thumb brush it away. The methodical stroking of the washcloth against your skin is calming your racing heart and Ben is quiet for another few minutes, focusing on his task.

Finally, he withdraws his washcloth and sets it down on the bedside table, next to the pothos. You feel his weight shift away from you.

“Put this on. Because you in my bed in your fucking underwear is really testing my restraint.”

You open your eyes and see that he's holding his dark t-shirt, the one from earlier that he wore when he came to pick you up. You raise your eyes to look at him, trying to gauge what he's feeling, but he's keeping his cards close to his chest.

You slip the shirt over your head and as soon as you do, Ben tucks it under you.

Ben was being more gentle than usual. Gentler than you'd ever seen him be. It was making you dizzy. Because again, he was acting like a completely different person. The person that you wanted him to be, the person that he could be to make you fall in love with him.

He swallows.

“I didn’t bring you to Vought because I thought I could manipulate you into sleeping with me.” Ben pauses to readjust. “I mean the thought crossed my mind, that maybe you would be more open to sleeping with me. I'm not perfect Petals, I'm just a fucking man."

You're clutching the pillow to your chest still, trying to understand what he was saying. His thigh is brushing against yours from where he sits on the edge of the bed.

“And you’re right I do want you. I’ve always wanted you, since the moment I saw you.”

“I know that-“

“Let me fucking finish.” He snaps

You sigh and rub your cheeks with the back of your hand. The expression on his face is almost pained, frustration shines behind his eyes as if he hates what he's about to admit.

“I’m such a fucking pussy.” Ben shakes his head, saying it more to himself than to you.

What?

“I wanted to have you. And you kept saying no. Which normally I wouldn’t care, I would just move on, but you fucking did something to me. Whenever I was fucking someone else all I thought about was you. You yelling at me, or going off about some stupid shit that I did, when I know that I did it the right way." He huffs. "And it-shit- It made me guilty."

"Guilty?"

"Yes!" He snaps.

"Why?"

"I don't fucking know! It just did!"

Your eyes widen in shock. It was the last thing that you were expecting Ben to say.

"I've never, never cared about anyone other than me. ME. I'm Soldier Boy. I'm not supposed to have any kind of weakness especially not for someone like you." Ben spits the word 'you' like a curse.

"Like me?" You whisper with a sniffle. By now the tears are about to start falling again. You didn’t know what he thought this was, but it just seemed like he was insulting you. "Ben I don't understand what you're saying."

“Yes like you! You’re-“ He gestures to you as if he can’t really find the words. “You’re fucking annoying , you crochet those ridiculous sweaters, you like plants, you get people presents for their birthdays, you sing in the shower, you care about other people-“

“So I act like a person?” You wipe away the tears with the back of your hand.

“No! You-“ He roars in frustration and rises from the bed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

You can see the glow in the center of his chest burning hot as if he's about to explode, but he gets it under control.

“When Diana called me and told me that you wanted me there I-“ Ben's jaw tightens. “I wanted to come, but I hate how much I care about you because I fucking shouldn’t!”

“You hate how much you care about me?”

"I knew that I was in too deep, so when Stan called I jumped at the chance to get out of Butcher's shitty little outfit! I came here and I had him bus in all those women so I could fuck it out of my system, fuck you out of my system but I can't!" His eyes flash around the room with anger and frustration. "Because when I moved out I realized it meant I wouldn’t see you. It meant that I wouldn’t hear you bitch about me doing something wrong, I wouldn’t see your cheeks get fucking red right before you tell me off, I wouldn't smell that damn grapefruit shampoo that follows you around.” By now he almost looks angry, shouting more at himself than at you. "I wouldn't see you sitting on that stupid fucking couch in those sweatpants that drive me crazy while you crochet like a fucking old person. And I wouldn't see the way all the plants in your apartment turn towards you when you walk in or how they all fucking bloom when you smile."

Wait a minute, is he saying that he misses me when I'm gone? That he missed seeing me as much as I missed seeing him when he didn't come to Illinois?

"And I fucking saved that pussy's life because I knew it would destroy you if you found out he died. And I wanted to fund his new plant shop with a damn farmer's market because you said that was your dream and yeah maybe I wanted you to like all of this-" Ben waves his arms around the room. "But I want you to be happy Petals! I fucking hate it when you cry and I hate what happened with your brother and everything that happened with that piece of shit Elijah. I wanted you to have a choice to leave it all, because the shit that Butcher puts you through every damn week isn't for you! I've known that since the day we fucking met."

You felt your chest tighten with his confession, because you suddenly realize that Ben was trying to give you a way out, he was trying to pull you away from Butcher's line of work because he knew it wasn't for you.

It was the conversation the two of you had the first night he stayed with you, when he said that you didn't quite "fit." It was true. You didn't love working for Butcher and you only stuck around to be with Annie, but the fact that Ben cared enough to try and give you an out, something that not even Butcher had done, made you feel like crying all over again. By now he was pacing the room, talking more to himself than to you, almost as if he didn't really want to tell you what he was feeling.

And despite never telling Ben, he figured out that you felt more like you at the plant shop.

"I don't know what you fucking did to me. I've never felt any of this shit before! Even with that bitch Countess this was different! It wasn't like this! I can't sleep without hearing you breathing, I can't eat without knowing that you ate- because you always fucking forget to eat some shit, and I can't survive without seeing you. So are you happy? You've turned me into a pussy. Because yeah I'd still like to fuck your brains out, but now I don't want to do that with anyone else I just want to do it with you." He shouts it pointing a finger at you as if he's accusing you of being a witch.

He is in love with me. Soldier Boy is in love with me. BEN IS IN LOVE WITH ME.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks to the chest, that even though Ben tried to distance himself from you, he had fallen, he had done the one thing that he swore than he never was going to.

"Ben-" You start to say in a whisper, but he keeps going.

"So no at the party I wasn't trying to manipulate you. I held you close in the photos because I knew you were scared. That’s why I made the cunts stop taking pictures. I kissed you like that because you were looking up at me with that look in your eyes that makes me fucking burn. I had them play that damn song because I wanted you to be happy to be there with me, especially after that fucking pussy Jake came over and touched you. Do you have any idea what it does to me when he touches you? Or when he makes you fucking smile about some shit? Or when he looks at you? Or the way you look at him?" His chest is glowing again. The tatters of his shirt are still hanging off his body from where you ripped it open.

"Ben-"

"And yeah, maybe I'm not some wimp who likes fucking plants. And maybe you're right, maybe I'm not the guy you bring home to meet your parents, but all I fucking want is for you to look at me the way you look at him!" He snarls and your mouth drops open in shock. "Do you have any idea how fucking ridiculous that is? I don't get jealous! I have fucked so many women and never given a shit if they had someone else, but I'm not even fucking you and the thought of you with him makes me want to-"

"Ben!" You shout over his monologue.

"What?" Ben snaps face contorted with rage.

You swallow. "I love you too."

And you know it's the truth, you know that it's exactly what you've been ignoring and what you've been fighting tooth and nail to avoid admitting to yourself because you were afraid that you were going to get hurt. You were afraid to have those kinds of feelings for Ben, because you thought he would only break your heart and push you away.

You can hear your grandmother's words ringing in your ears:

"There's something else that you refuse to admit to yourself because you're scared. You should though, because when you embrace it, what comes after is really beautiful."

You had been so afraid to fall for the wrong man, but looking at Ben now and listening to everything he said to you, everything he admitted didn't make you think that he was the wrong man anymore. It made you realize that he was the right man, but only for you.

Ben is still staring at you, face contorted with his rage and frustration, eyes burning with the jealousy that he's never allowed himself to admit aloud.

But you refuse to take it back. It was true, maybe the truest thing that you have ever admitted in your entire life, and you didn't regret it.

You knew you loved him even when he made a disgusting joke or teased you or drove you to the point of insanity. You knew that it was why Ben was able to push all your buttons just the right way in a way no one ever had. You knew that was why your apartment was so empty and why you kept thinking that something was missing when he wasn’t there.

Because you loved Ben, and nothing else in your life seemed to matter.

His entire body is pulled tense, the glow in his chest dimming until it's completely gone. And for just a moment you think that Ben is going to start yelling at you again and accusing you of bewitching him, but he doesn't.

Ben crosses the room in two powerful strides and practically tackles you back onto the bed. His mouth fits against yours, urgent, demanding, but also filled with things unsaid. The feelings that both of you had for so long colliding, like a supernova, making your body ignite. You melt into him, feeling the comforting weight of his body settle on top of yours like a heated blanket as you sink into the blankets beneath you.

You hate that you denied yourself this indulgence for so long, not when it feels like Ben was made for you. Not when every single twist of his tongue sends you further into overdrive and makes something at the back of your mind scream “MORE!” at the top of its lungs.

Ben’s body fits perfectly over yours, his hands holding on to your cheeks so tight as if he’s afraid you’re going to pull away from him again as if he thinks you’ll run like you did.

A part of you knows that you’ll always feel guilty for that, for running from Ben when he kissed you on the dance floor. But you won’t feel guilty for this.

The world falls silent and you’re left with Ben.

The man who seemed to be wrong for you in every way, the one who told you that he didn’t believe in romance, and the man who you can’t live without.

“Ben-“ You moan into his mouth your arms wrapped under his arms to hold him close to you, afraid that he’s going to cut and run. “Ben wait-“

“What?” He smiles down at you the same way he did the morning you woke up next to him. And it’s the same way you wanted to make him smile for the rest of your life. Not the cocky smirk,but the soft smile that you felt Ben only reserved for you.

But before you can answer, Ben dips his mouth down and kisses you again. It’s not with the same burning intensity as before, but this time it’s with the gentle movement of his lips against yours, the soft nudge of his nose while his scruff rubs against your cheeks in a way that makes you sigh into his mouth.

“What is it Petals?” He whispers pulling back.

You gently shuffle your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, loving the way the strands fall between your fingertips and scrunching it out of the slicked back style it was earlier. He looks more like himself now. “Can we go back to the apartment?”

“You want to leave?” Ben frowns. “You don’t want to stay with me?” The way his voice shifts just a little, breaks your heart and you pull his face back down so you can kiss him again.

How can he think that I don't want to stay with him if I just admitted that I loved him? Is that how it was with Countess? That she promised him those little things and then left him?

“Of course I want to stay with you Ben. I just like the apartment more."

“Then why?”

“Because it’s cold here. There’s no warmth and nothing familiar. It’s like a museum. And I miss Bean.”

“But-“

“I know that you’re used to this and that you like all of this, but I don’t. I’m not this girl. I’m not the parties and the jewelry and the millions of screaming fans and the ridiculous dresses. I like my little crappy apartment and my five hundred jobs and just staying in to watch movies and eat pizza or read a book and I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” His hand cups your cheek.

“Because this is what you like. The fans, the parties, the apartment on the top floor of Vought tower-“

“I don’t care about any of it if you’re not with me.” Ben winces as if it physically hurt him to say that. “Fuck. Forget I said that-“

Your lips meet his, gently pulling him further on top of you. “No.” You whisper, pressing another kiss to the tip of his nose. “Because it’s not weak for you to admit that you like having me around. Would you hate it if I said that I hate not being around you?”

“No.” He mutters, but he doesn’t look any less disgusted with himself and you’re not convinced.

"We're going to have to work on that Gramps." You smile kissing him once more. Ben's hands travel from your face down to your hips griping your body even tighter against where he lies in the cradle of your thighs and bringing your legs up to wrap around his waist. "Ben?"

"Hmm?"

"I also don't want to have sex with you in this bed."

"Why not?" He smirks. "It's pretty comfortable."

"Because I don't know when the last time you cleaned the sheets was and I don’t want to think about all the women that have been in here this week."

Ben frowns. "Probably good that you don’t." But then he smirks again, pushing the cotton t-shirt you’re wearing up over your thighs, brushing his fingertips against the soft skin gets closer to everywhere you want him to be, his eyes glinting mischievously. "But you're finally admitting you want to have sex with me?"

"I guess so."

“Good.” He smirks. “Because I think I’ve been patient long enough. And I can’t wait to show you just what you’ve been missing out on.”

“You are so full of-“

Ben cuts you off again, his tongue slipping between your lips while his fingers search even higher to a place that makes you gasp and moan into his mouth.

“You were saying?” You can feel his smirk against your lips and fuck if it’s not the sexiest thing you’ve ever felt.

“I was saying, let’s get out of here.”

The car drive from Vought Tower to your apartment was ten minutes, and you were very much appreciating the tinted windows and private backseat from the driver. Ben hadn't been able to take his hands off you since the two of you left and you also were enjoying learning how much Ben liked it when you touched him.

You didn't know how you were ever going to stop. Everywhere inside and out of you felt like it was on fire. It had never been this way with any of the men that you'd dated in the past.

Even your first boyfriend, Newton, never made you feel as beautiful and sexy as Ben did, but it felt pointless to compare them. Not when Ben touching you made you feel like you were radioactive and burning from the inside out.

By the time you get to your apartment door, your lips are already swollen and red, and there’s a collection of marks on your neck that Ben was more than happy to place.

“Ben-“ You moan softly trying to fit your key into the lock of your front door.

He was pressed against you, his hands roaming up and down while he sucked another mark into the shadow of your jaw, his beard burning against your delicate skin in a way that made you want to lose yourself in him.

“I’m a little busy at the moment Petals.”

“We’re in public.” You giggle as you try to fit your key in the door again, but Ben pushes you up against it, his large hand reaches low to squeeze your butt and possessively roams his other one over your chest in a way that makes you flush bright red at the thought of anyone seeing the two of you.

Rex was sitting patiently at your feet for the door to open, while looking up and down the hallway for a potential meal.

“So?” Ben rumbles against your throat, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. “I want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

“Everyone or Jake? Because I don’t see him and-“

Ben moves so fast you think you imagine it. Your arms are suddenly wrapped around the back of his neck, and he has your legs tangled around his waist, bracing your back against the door.

“Don’t say his name in front of me.” Ben all but growls, eyes so dark that it sends a shudder down your spine. “Not now.”

“Please don’t be jealous of him.” You whisper, nudging your nose against his, before you kiss him once more. “I stopped noticing him the day you moved in.”

“Oh really?”

You nod.

“Good thing too.” He murmurs with a smirk. “Because I’m about to make you forget him and everything else.”

A shudder goes through your body that Ben notices and the smirk that curves over his lips makes it difficult to breathe.

“Your heart is racing.” The hand that he has placed under your leg to support you against the door brushes against the soft fabric of the sweatpants he let you borrow moving back to hold on to your ass. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re excited.” He kisses you again, long and drawn out in a way that makes you feel like you’re going to melt into a puddle. “That I excite you.”

He’s going to be the death of me.

“You excite me too.” Ben says kissing the slope of your neck to suck a new mark there, before you can stop him.

“You’re very sure of yourself.” You say out of breath.

“Mhmm.” He moans, but he puts you down to let you open the door.

Your hand finds his as you cross the threshold of the apartment, giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure him.

Bean is lounging on the couch, a lazy smirk on his lips as if he knew exactly what the two of you were about to do, and Rex scuttles over to sit on the other side of the couch, jostling Bean who gives an angry hiss, that Rex ignores.

The air in the apartment is different now that Ben is with you. It’s not cold or dark anymore or empty, it’s warm and light and filled with something that you’re not sure what it is yet, but you can’t wait to find out. And it makes you happy, happier than you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

“So… yours or mine?” Ben murmurs with a smile, his eyes shifting to the couch in your living room before flicking above your head to the darkened hallway where your bedroom is.

“Hmm.” You bite the inside of your cheek as if contemplating something. “Well I was thinking-“ You begin to walk backwards, tugging him in the direction of the bedroom. “What about ours?”

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Ben smile so wide, his eyes softening in the gentle light coming from the lamps in your living room.

“You asking me to move back in?”

“No. I’m asking you to come home.” You whisper because you knew that it was home, that no matter how many times Ben had said it in passing, the word home had changed into something wonderful.

“I like the sound of that Petals.”

You continue to pull him down the hallway, but before you get to the bedroom, Ben stops.

“Petals?”

“Yeah?” You look up at him suddenly worried.

“I’m not going to lie to you I’m not really that gentle, but I know that’s you want that. That you want someone who’ll make love to you, but I-“ He grimaces when he says the words ‘make love.’ “I don’t know if I can.”

“It’s okay.” You whisper, cupping his bearded cheek. “As long as I have you it doesn’t matter.”

“You do. And I’m going to try.” Ben murmurs. “I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

“I know.” You kiss him again and wonder if he’s ever said that to anyone else. “I trust you Ben.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Let me decide that.”

And it was true. You knew that Ben wasn’t gentle, but he was with you. And you trusted him. And sure, maybe it wouldn’t look the same way that you’d always imagined when you read those romance books, but it was your love story, your romance, and you didn’t care how it looked as long as Ben was there with you.

A/N: Well the two idiots finally figured it out in the most dramatic way possible lol. I will say that writing that confession scene might be my favorite thing that I've ever written, goodness it was so fun and I've had it written for AGES 😂😭. I'm not quite done with them yet, I see maybe another chapter or two, but we are quickly nearing the end of this story. Again thank you so much everyone for all the love and support, I really couldn't do it without all the wonderful feedback and love that everyone has shown me. ❤️🥰

If you'd like to ask me about my WIPs for WIP game my asks are open! And my WIPs are listed on this post!

As Always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn

@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry @ladysparkles78

@spxideyver @zepskies @impala67stellawinchester

@reidtomewinchester @samanthadegaro @glossy01 @nikimisery

@tunnelvisionlove @incandxscents @winchester-stark @samahanta

@melonmochi

@kamisobsessed @whichwitchwanda @karolina-12110905 @jcollins03-blog

@pixviee @filmologetica @yvonneeeee @c1nnamong1rl29 @kmc1989

@livya99 @cherrygirl444 @tulipsvanilla @angrydragon90 @chi-raz

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #jensen ackles #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfic #stan edgar #annie january

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charmedreincarnation · 1 year ago

Note

When I say that this journey is real, and our struggles are not in vain, I am shouting it from the rooftops. A month ago, I woke up with my dream life. Obsessed with the "void state", I woke up one day being the same person but with an entirely new life. All because I chose it.

Your efforts aren't going unnoticed. The universe is always on your side. You are the universe. It's been a month, and I still feel overwhelmed with joy and wonder every single day.

I was once poor and battling depression, a reality many can relate to. But we found the law because we knew we deserved more. You can be ordinary, flawed, even unkind, but you can choose to transform and have it all. And I did just that. My parents, who were illegal immigrants working underpaid jobs, are now wealthy and respected figures. My last name alone garners recognition, and I am a socialite earning money just by being me.

I used to live in an attic infested with cockroaches. Now, I reside in a four-story mansion, complete with exotic cars, house help, cooks, drivers - all treated and compensated fairly. We also own three other houses across the United States.

I was once insecure, severely underweight, and bullied. Today, not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I am also praised for my fashion sense. I was once a dull person, but now I am radiant with positivity.

I attended an underfunded school where I was bullied, and teachers lacked resources to intervene. Now, I study at a prestigious private school that assures my entry into an Ivy League university. Finally, I am respected and appreciated.

I was lonely and uninteresting. Now, I am vibrant with a close-knit group of friends and a man who seems straight out of a Wattpad story. He's perfect, and he's mine.

This transformation happened overnight. And I've been on this journey since 2020. But how??? I surrendered to my imagination!

The void was overwhelming, but now I can easily navigate it. I was tired of giving my power away. So, I gave in to myself, to my dreams. I knew I deserved it. Even if I didn't believe it at times, I made the choice. If you desire something, it's already yours. It's done.

I didn't have a list or anything of my desires, just a vision of happiness. I didn't know what it looked like, but I knew how it felt. Now, I embody that feeling every day. My life is a series of plot twists. It's not perfect, but my worst days now are what I once prayed for. That old life? POOF It's gone. All I have is now, and I'm living it to the fullest.

My advice?

Stop seeking proof. If you're looking for proof, you'll never manifest your dreams because the only thing that needs to change is self. Doubt is a reflection of your disbelief in yourself. When I surrendered to my imagination, it didn't matter who was lying or telling the truth, because I had my truth. The burden of proof lies within you. It's called the law of assumption. You might harbor some doubt, but you must have faith like the devout. They believe without proof. You can too! We all can! Believe in yourself, and the universe will conspire in your favor!!!!

I agree! Your words resonated with me a lot. Faith, particularly self-faith, is such an important tool in shaping our realities. The ability to trust ourselves, our desires, and our potential is essential in manifesting our dream life, and it’s only so beautiful to slowly see yourself give yourself all your trust when you’ve never even liked yourself.

You're spot on about the issue of seeking confirmation from others. It's an unnecessary hurdle that we give ourselves but it’s human nature. Our truths and dreams should not be validated by anyone else but us. As you said, why should it matter if someone lied or told the truth? We are the creators of our own lives and thus, the only validation we need comes from within.

And I wholeheartedly agree with your point about deservingness. We don't have to earn our desires or prove ourselves worthy of them. If we want something, that desire alone makes us deserving of it.

More importantly I am very proud and happy for you !!!! You’re a testament of what our own imagination can do for us and I hope you only keep getting happier and happier <3!!!!

#sucess story #manifestation #law of assumption #dream life

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miley1442111 · 8 months ago

Text

unfair- a.hotchner

a/n: he's an asshole in this for a while btw. i wrote this with fem!reader in mind but i don't think there's any mention of it so imagine what you like! mad spoilers for season 3 episode 20- Lo-fi (aka i verbatim copied dialogue from it). 'ly' means 'love you'

summary: what happens when Aaron is met with an ex-fling in the workplace that seems to hate you, surely he'll be by your side, right?

pairings: aaronhotchner x reader, platonicBAUteam x reader

warnings: general criminal minds topics, mentions of murder, mentions of panic attacks, general relationship angst, reader getting hurt, mentions of guns and bullet wounds, mentions of death, suggestive themes at the end

Part 2

You hated New York. You hated the bustling crowds, the rude people, and the barely breathable air.

“Is it just me or does Agent Kate kinda look like Haley?” you overheard Jj say, and your heart dropped. Aaron and Haley had only been legally divorced for a few months, but they’d been separated for a lot longer than that. Your relationship with Aaron had grown into a 10 months long rollercoaster of highs and lows. He was hard on himself about the divorce, about not seeing Jack enough, but you were always there to comfort him. Jj blushed when she realised you’d heard and mouthed a ‘sorry’ your way. You nodded as an acceptance of her apology and continued with the case.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kate had been shooting down your ideas all day. It could’ve been something as simple as lunch ideas, or something relating to the case, she didn’t care. Your input was unnecessary and unwanted. This led you, the only licensed psychologist on the team to be silent as Aaron, Kate and the nypd cops bounced ideas and facts about the psychology of the unSubs back and forth. You knew that what they were saying was outdated. You knew it, and yet you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to give her another reason to silence you. You weren’t even that mad at her, more at Aaron. Why wasn’t he speaking up for you? He alway did before and he promised he would intervene if someone was being unfair and not listening to you in the workplace. He made that promise to the entire team. You were hurt by him, and by the rumours you’d heard. And then you thought back, since you’d gotten to New York, he’d barely glanced your way, his eyes focused on the case or Kate. Derek slumped in the chair beside you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“She’s a real piece of work, everything I say is just the wrong thing,” He complained, a tired tone in his voice.

“Want to go back to the hotel? I could use an early night if no one is going to utilise us,” you offered, exhaustion and hurt guiding you against your better judgement.

“Sounds like a plan, sugar, you and me sharing like old times?” he asked tentatively, clearly sensing the upset you were carrying.

“You and me Derek, as always,” you smiled. You had known before-hand that the hotel only had so many rooms and in the beginning of the BAU, you and Derek would always share, since he was the person you were closest with. He took your hand and gave it a small squeeze before standing up to gather his things. You stood up too, grabbing your bag and coat.

“Leaving so soon?” Kate asked, clearly malicious intent behind her eyes.

“Yeah, just tired and all, listening to you spew absolute bullshit is exhausting,” you yawned and gave her a fake smile as her jaw dropped. Aaron sent you a look of warning, one you met with your own hardened eyes. “Goodnight,” you waved at the cops you had befriended, who waved back, all too happy that someone had finally put Shelly in her place.

Derek and you walked to the hotel hand in hand, just as you used to, he got the room key, you showered in the bathroom as he watched tv, then vice versa. You texted Aaron a simple, ‘sharing with Derek. Ly xxx’ before you let yourself fall asleep, comfortable in the clean hotel bed.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You always wrote it out. He thought to himself as he rushed to the hotel, mere minutes after you sent the text. He had been tired and maybe his vision was clouded with Kate, an old fling of his if he was being honest. He pulled at his tie in the elevator as he caught his breath. When the doors opened on the floor of your room, he found you standing on the other side, your eyes semi-shut as if to try and conserve your drowsy state, a habit he knew you possessed and loved. This brought an ease to him, a small smile made its way onto his lips. You had your headphones on too, which meant you really were sharing with Derek. His smile dropped.

“Honey,” he sighed and you yawned and rubbed your eyes.

“Aaron?”

“Yes honey, can we talk-”

“In the morning,” You cut him off, “I’m just getting ice. The ice machine on this floor is out of order.”

“It technically is 1:34 am,” he corrected and you sent him a glare. He shut his mouth. “Can I at least kiss you goodnight?”

“I don’t know, is your mouth not too tired from kissing Kate’s ass today?” You stifled a chuckle at your own joke as he sighed.

“Honey if you let me-”

“Please, for the love of god, shut up, I’m too tired for this,” You got off as the doors opened and closed them behind you, pushing the button back to his floor. You grabbed your ice and took the stairs instead of risking him being there. You got back into your room and fell asleep again, even more to think about.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked into the police precinct with Spencer, ready to help him with his geological profile when Aaron stopped in front of you, and Spencer continued walking on.

“We need to talk,” he essentially demanded and you rolled your eyes and tried to push past him to follow Spencer but he grabbed your waist and started walking you both into an empty interrogation room.

“Are you planning on interrogating me?” You chuckled as he let go of your waist and started pacing around the room. “What is the problem here?” You asked.

“Why don’t you tell me? Something I did made you so upset that you decided you wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as me, something I did made you not tell me you love me, and something I did made you not let me kiss you goodnight. So please, just tell me!” He was frantic, the early signs of a panic attack clear in his body language and face.

“Aaron, come here,” you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him. His hands pulled you closer to him, squeezing you tight into his chest. “I was just mad about Kate not taking mine or Derek’s ideas, and how you didn't help either of us out. I just wanted some space to clear my head-”

“Were you jealous?” He asked, pulling away from you.

“No? I was frustrated that mine and Derek’s ideas were being shot down, this has nothing to do with Kate.”

“Then why did you say what you said last night? It made her deeply upset,” he explained and you rolled your eyes.

“Because it was true? Maybe next time, let the registered and licensed psychologist with 2 phDs speak?”

His eyes were trained on you. “Not everything always has to be about you, some people are very sensitive to things like that-”

“I’m starting to think I should be jealous of Kate” you knew it was a low blow but it was one you were willing to take. “I’ll see you around, agent.”

You left Aaron alone in the room, a frown that was bound to stay all day.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Derek had been right to station BAU team members on platforms and we were about to have another body.

“Hotchner,” a brief pause. “Does it look like it could be one of our guys?” Aaron spoke into the phone.

“What’s going on?” Derrick asked,

“We’ve got eyes on one of them, he’s on the subway platform at 59th and lex,” Aaron’s eyes met yours and you looked away, focused on Penelope’s voice over the phone..

“59th? We could have been right there,” Derek sighed, clearly frustrated with Aaron’s behaviour.

“Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?”

“If he makes it to the park, we've lost him,” Kate explained.

“We could've had that guy,” Derek stressed.

“Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved on to somewhere more isolated,” Kate argued.

“Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot,” Derek shot back.

“We had every available man on the street,” She scoffed.

“And I suggested to you that you use this team,” Derek seethed.

“Second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now,” Aaron piped up.

“Hotch, how am I supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them?” Derek demanded, even you were getting angry now.

“We're here to present a profile. That's what we need to do,” Aaron said in that terrible deadpanned voice that made you want to shake him until he was the real Aaron again. Your Aaron.

“I said to put us at express stops- 14th, 42nd, 59th and that's exactly where they hit!” Derek snapped.

“It's not your place to have this discussion,” Aaron crossed a line with that.

“My place?” Derek questioned.

“You need to back off,” Aaron scolded.

“We got 7 bodies, man,” Derek said, shocked that Aaron would ever treat him like this.

“Which is exactly why we need to stay focused,” Aaron countered.

“Focused. From where I'm standing, All your focus is on her, not on this case, you're ignoring your girl, so it's not on y/n, but on her,” Derek rebutted.

“Take a walk, now.”

You gasped when Derek called him out, but as Derek walked off he offered you a hand, one which you took, and left Aaron with Kate. Derek left to go ‘take a walk’ to a bar nearby and you sat in an office, going over the case with Emily and Spencer. You all ended up sleeping in the office, you chose to be as far away from Aaron as possible. The next day, you were positioned with Emily.

“How’s it going with Aaron?” She asked and you let out a groan. “That good huh?”

“He’s being such a dick, I have no clue what to do,” You sighed.

“Maybe talking to him will help?” She offered and you shot her a glare.

“He doesn’t want to hear me, he just wants to talk,” you explained, hopping off the train and walking up the platform steps. You heard a gunshot and looked around, knowing he was close.

“Garcia? Where is he?” Emily asked. “He’s headed our way.” You ran towards the way he was coming from and spotted him, chasing him the other way. You were faster than Emily and stopped in the alleyway. He shot. He grazed your side and Emily shot him and grabbed his gun.

“Y/l/n?! You ok?” She called back to you.

“It was just a graze, I’m fine,” You took a deep breath as the adrenaline wore off and the pain started to seep in. Emily and you waited for the ambulance and you started getting stitched up as the rest of the team arrived. Derek came straight to you, Aaron hot on his heels.

“You good sugar?” He asked and you nodded as the needle went back into your skin.

“Not my first bullet, probably not my last,” you joked and you saw Aaron’s eyes widen. Spencer and Jj shot you a look of concern from behind Aaron and you sent them a thumbs up, Spencer and Jj nodded, understanding that you were ok.

“Can I have a minute alone, please?” Aaron cleared his throat and Derek rolled his eyes but obliged anyway, walking away. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, great. Nothing like a bullet wound to put a pep in your step,” you remarked, sarcasm flowing freely. They finished with the stitches and put a dressing on the wound. As soon as you were out of the paramedics hands, Aaron wrapped you in an all-consuming hug.

“I was so worried,” he whispered.

“Yeah, so was I, I didn’t think you could get your head out of your ass in time,” you snorted, hearing others laugh at your joke. Aaron rolled his eyes and cracked a smile.

“I was being unfair, wasn’t I,” he sighed, his hands resting on your waist.

“Yes, yes you were.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t show it,” he offered and you smiled and kissed him softly.

“You know it’s going to take a bit more than a few pretty words and a hug to make this right, right?”

“Oh I know, but I was hoping you would at least be in the same bed as me tonight? Then I can at least start apologising,” he smirked and you laughed.

“Maybe,” you mused.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #carmy berzatto x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfic

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shuastar · 23 days ago

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ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ (JWW)

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴄ: 8.2k (swear it doesnt get any shorter....) ᴀ/ɴ: ᴏᴍɢ ɪ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴀɢᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ㅠㅠ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ 1ꜱᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ (ʟᴏɴɢ) ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ,,, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ᴘʟꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ <3 ꜱᴏ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ; ɴᴇxᴛ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2)

The honeyed spring air only proved to prod at your deep, growing, carnal fury at the scene in front of you. The wooden stilts of your fan dug further and further into the expensive lace of your thin sheer gloves, leaving bright red lines in its wake. As you stared at the traitorous scene in front of you, you felt as if your entire being was thrown into a wall.

You should’ve known, really, that it was going to end like this. You should’ve known when the greasy money-tainted rat of your soon-to-be ex-fiance crawled out of his cave and to the royal palace, rubbing his hands together in faux prayer as he asked about your dowry. You were sure Seungcheol told him too – all fifteen million won of it. You could imagine how Lord Paree’s eyes would have seen the backs of his skull at the number — how he probably left the gilded royal palace in sheer bliss at the thought of receiving the monetary sum of three city estates just for a single marriage. Maggot, you thought, nails almost digging through the lace. Money-drunken parasite.

A high-pitched dolphin giggle and a snap! of a fan slapped you out of your red-seeing stupor.

Right. Yes.

Dealing with (yet another) failed engagement was more important than the consequences that would follow. You could almost hear the concerned jabberings of Seungcheol, fur-wrapped on his stupid golden throne in the palace, as you stood in front of him.

“Your highness, you aren’t married either,” you would point out, like you always do.

Seungcheol would sigh and pout, “I know, y/n. That seems to be the problem.” Then, he would scan you up and down before clapping, jumping out of his throne and meandering his way down to where you were standing with a grin. “What kind of guardian,” he offered you his arm as he led you out of the throne room, “would I be if I got married before I saw you get married?” He pinched your cheek lightly, letting out a loud laugh at your severely disgruntled expression. “Don’t you agree, Duchess Park?”

You would close your eyes with a long sigh, pretending like this conversation wasn’t one of Seungcheol’s only topics of interest since her debut into Society. “Of course, your highness,” you would mumble, muttering a few more colorful adjectives under your breath as you were led unwillingly to your fifth courtship date request of the month.

If you knew then that your fourth engagement – in one and a half years, mind you – would end up shattered shambles yet again, you wouldn’t have even let Seungcheol drag you to the royal garden’s mezzanine for afternoon tea with that bastard in the first place.

Really, you weren’t quite sure whether you were more angry at the fact that the idle-headed useless block of skin tissue or at the all gracious, ever-knowing royal highness for setting you two up together in a future cheating scandal. That was true. Yet fucking again.

You were so tired of snatching the tea pot off of the wire-frame tables and throwing it at the girl (like it was the poor lady’s fault) before bitch-slapping your ex fiance with as much malice as you could muster at the time. Genuinely. You were so sick of walking into the next ball with no one by your side, save your secretary and personal guard, yet again. You were going to throw up if you heard your name with the words cheating, scandal, and shame in a Society gathering again. But most importantly, you were so sick of the look he would give you from across the ballroom and during your dances.

“I heard about you and Lord Paree.”

A step into a waltz.

“So has the rest of the fucking country, apparently.”

A stifled cough let out due to your unexpectedly colorful language.

“I wouldn’t say the entire nation, y/n.”

“Hm, I fear I will have to disagree, your grace, as I heard even Duke Hong’s footmen murmur among themselves regarding my unfortunate turn of events.”

A falter in his soft smile.

“Forget him. I’ve always thought of him as an undeserving bastard anyways.”

You laugh, head thrown back – the most joyous you have been since last week.

“Shall I be glad that you’ve thought so, your grace?”

Wonwoo shrugs, twirling you around in tight circles. You feel almost lightheaded from his cologne, mingling in with the gentle puffs of breath from the waltz.

“Think of it however you want,” he hums, dipping you ever so slightly against the sudden base of the cello. You swallow a surprised gasp as his hand, originally on your upper back, dips dangerously low – for a moment, sitting gently against the hem of your corset.

The two of you come to a halt near the edge of the ballroom floor. You hate how you can feel a flush coming on the apples of your cheeks the longer Wonwoo stares at you, an odd mixture of pity and something else swimming in his eyes behind the metal-frame glasses.

You bow, one hand on your chest. You know you don’t have to – he is of the same societal position as you. You know you don’t have to, but it feels almost second nature to go low into a curtsy of some kind in front of a man.

“Thank you, your grace, for this dance,” you murmur, lifting your head back up. Wonwoo stays quiet for a good moment, before he blinks.

“Find yourself another date for your second dance, yes? Someone better than that cheating bastard,” he hums. You think he’s about to reach for your gloved hand but his hands stay at his side – the only indicator of movement a slight twitch in his fingers. You force down your disappointment.

Instead, you smile. There is nothing else for you to do, anyways. Seungcheol, although good of heart, would have another engagement for you lined up in no time. And with that, you would need to forget. Forgive and forget. You realize you’ve spent too much time in front of the Archduke’s son when you feel the presence of your guard behind you.

“I will see you soon,” you greet, before you turn and leave. If you had stayed to hear his response, you feel like you would have stayed with Wonwoo for the entire night. And that was not very ladylike.

Wonwoo

“Wonwoo, one day you’re going to have to live for something else.”

Seungcheol’s breaths came out in heaving pants as the two took a brief break from their sparring session in the royal palace’s courtyard.

Wonwoo just raised a brow, wiping sweat off of his brow with his discarded shirt. “What do you mean by that, your majesty?”

Seungcheol waved away the title. “Drop the pretense, friend. What I mean is,” Seungcheol dropped his empty water jug on the wooden bench, before bringing his sword up to his face, “one day you’re gonna realize you have more to live for than just this.” Seungcheol gestured vaguely towards the desolate sparring grounds.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, brushing dusts of sand off of his glinting blade. His fingers flexed on the leather grip. “I don’t live for just this, Coups. I know my responsibilities more than you think I do,” he sighed.

Seungcheol raised a questioning brow, stepping back into the sparring grounds with a twirl of his sword. “You sure?” his voice echoed, which was followed by unfamiliar click-clacks of a woman’s heels. Seungcheol cocked his head and grinned, canines showing, as he squatted down low, flicking his fingers at Wonwoo. “Then why are you asking to go out to fight? You might die.”

Wonwoo cracked his neck before running at the young king, Their swords clashed in the middle of the sparring grounds, flickers of their manas bursting outwards. Smoky tendrils of black gravitated and fogged the ground near Wonwoo’s feet, curling themselves around his chest and slowly inching up his neck, before blending in with his hair.

Wonwoo grunted in exertion, pushing Seungcheol back with the help of his mana. The king slammed into the back wall before landing back on his feet. Wonwoo stood over him, panting. Sweat dripped down his temples and his mana curled itself around his bare arms, against the contours of the muscles that laid there.

“It is the only thing I am good for,” Wonwoo stated. His words came out soft, almost a whisper, as his hand stretched out towards Seungcheol.

Seungcheol took a second more in his position, staring into Wonwoo’s despairing eyes. The dark browns looked more conflicted than Seungcheol had ever known. His own eyes darted towards the figure that stood in the opening archway of the courtyard. He could barely make out the face, under the layers of shadows, but he knew. He had called her here anyway. Not here as in the courtyard but here as in the palace. It was though, of course, purely coincidental that she had walked to the courtyard of her own volition.

Seungcheol grasped Wonwoo’s hand, hauling himself off of the sandy ground.

“You’re willing to leave your duchy? Your Society life?” Seungcheol stood in front of Wonwoo with his sword at his side. He gave the young archduke a knowing look. “Even the duchess?”

Wonwoo stiffened at Seungcheol’s ending words, his hand stilling, hovering the tip of his sword at the entrance of its sheath. He swallowed. The sword dropped with a loud CLANG into its home in the sheath. He looked up at the king, who looked almost expectant.

“Yes,” was his answer. He straightened, brushing sweaty strands of his black hair out of his eyes. “Yes, I am.”

Before Seungcheol, with furrowed brows and disappointment flurrying in his eyes, could open his mouth, a quiet scoff rang out, ripping the silence between the two men into shreds.

Wonwoo’s head snapped to the archway where the sound had echoed from, fingers curling around the grip of his sword. His other arm pushed Seungcheol behind him, which earned him a noise of protest from the older man.

“Won-”

“There’s someone there,” was what Wonwoo said, before he stepped closer, into the shadows of the archway. The face that met him left him unable to breathe – as if his lungs had been squeezed out of oxygen from the inside; as if his entire being was wringed; as if someone had, one by one, cut the tendons of his muscles, rendering him absolutely useless.

“I have been delusioned,” a cold, shaking voice started, “of our relationship, your grace.” You bowed deeply, silken hair falling over your shoulders, petals of the flowers in your hair dancing in the soft breeze, hand tight-fisted on your chest. “I ask for your apology in my,” a deafening pause, “assuming nature.”

BANG

The sword fell out of Wonwoo’s limp hand. He rushed forward, almost tripping over his own feet and forgetting his look of indecency, leaving Seungcheol long forgotten in the edges of the sparring grounds.

“Y/n,” he breathed, hands gently holding your upper arms. “Y/n, you misunderstand,” he hurried, forcing you to stand properly. The sight afterwards almost made him wish he let you stay in your bow.

Your crystalline eyes were glassy and he could make out the glistening pools of unshed tears that poked against your charcoal waterline. Your lips stretched thin over your teeth in an attempt at a reassuring smile. But he knew you better than that – he knew more than half of the emotions that swirled behind your watery eyes and he knew what the tremblings of the corners of your lips meant. What it meant for you, for him, for the two of you.

You shook your head, shuffling back against the rough grounds. A small laugh escaped your mouth. Your glossy pink lips curled up in a practiced smile – too robotic, too mirror-practiced, too Society for him to comprehend. It sent his mind reeling. It sent his mind reeling because you had heard what he shouldn’t have said. Because he was so used to seeing your dimpled smile in his embrace.

“No,” you responded, pushing his hands off of your lace-covered arms with trembling fingers. Your touch was soft but firm – a boundary that was unfamiliar in his realm. “I apologize for intruding, your grace, your highness,” another bow – this time at Seungcheol, who just waved her off from his position picking up the strewn wooden swords, “I will take my leave now.”

A noncommittal noise rose from the back of Wonwoo’s throat and his hand wrapped around your wrist habitually, only to be shaken off without a single backwards look and a shuddering sigh as you walked away, head held high and hands shaking by your side.

Wonwoo wasn’t stupid. He knew when to take a hint.

“I’m not sure if you started a problem or made an existing problem worse.”

Wonwoo shot a glare towards Seungcheol. “Thank you for your wise words, your highness. They are so helpful in my current situation,” he muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Seungcheol sighed, shrugging as he dumped the wooden swords inside of a crate. “Look at it this way,” he pointed out, “now you are free to go do your battling. Without any ties.”

Seungcheol handed Wonwoo his discarded sword, eyebrows raised.

“Right?”

Wonwoo gave him no answer, only staring at your shadowed retreating form that walked now in the sunlight past the archway. He only stared as you, with a curt nod to a footman, entered the main palace halls again.

“Wonwoo?” Seungcheol repeated. “You there?”

Wonwoo blindly nodded, fidgeting with the loose ends of his sheath. “Yes. Yes, maybe,” was his vague answer, mumbled softly under his breath. And all through Seungcheol’s next set of rants about Society politics and the ongoing problems around the Northern border of Obella, the only thing Wonwoo could think of was the alien tightening of his chest – so much so that his lungs felt off and his heart hurt to breathe.

Wonwoo was sick and tired of the stench of blood and rusting iron. He was sick and tired of the habitual curl of his fingers around the hilt of his battle-worn sword at every small crack in the woods. And he was sick and tired of being away – away from the Capitol, away from his duchy, away from her.

So when, one morning, his best friend and commanding officer Soonyoung, came into his tent with a cream-colored envelope with a familiar crest stamped on the front, it felt like a weight had lifted off of his shoulders.

His tent flap fluttered as a head of blonde ducked in Wonwoo’s sleep tent.

“Guess what a little birdie flew in with this pleasantly fine morning?” Soonyoung grinned, leaning against one of the poles of the tent, arms crossed.

Wonwoo looked up from his place sitting on his chair, sharpening his sword. His glasses hung low on his nose and his naked back rippled with aching muscles. He deadpanned, recognizing the crest as the royal crest. “What?” he hummed, standing up and setting his sword and whetting stone down. “Another commission from our dear king?” he scoffed, unwilling bitterness seeping into his words.

Of course, he did not blame King Seungcheol for his current predicament. Actually, he did, just a little bit. But of course, not all of the situation. Around three fifths was because of himself – because he was greedy and ambitious and begged to be sent to the National Academy and rose to the top of his Weapons class. It was his fault, was what he told himself, that he was on his third year out in the battlefields in the north, fighting the royal battles for a king that presented himself to be one of Wonwoo’s closest friends. Of course an inconspicuous bitterness would form.

Hoshi laughed, his own bare torso glinting in the early morning sunlight. He handed Wonwoo the letter. “Oh, you wish, Wonwoo,” Hoshi said, clapping his friend on the back. He squeezed as Wonwoo’s eyes skimmed over its contents. He could almost feel Hoshi’s smile from behind him.

“Congratulations, my friend,” Hoshi laughed, “You have officially been reinvited to Society!”

Wonwoo’s face crumpled into an off mixture of disappointment, relief, and boredom. Society? That was what Seungcheol was pulling him out of these battles for? Out of everything, Society?

“Society?” he scoffed. The hollow, fakeness of The Capitol’s Society was what awaited him outside of the violent woods? His fingers tightened on the thick parchment.

The fact that it was Society wasn’t the aspect that pissed him off down to his bones. It was the fact that Seungcheol knew why he gave up Society to begin with.

Suddenly, Hoshi’s squinted eyes filled Wonwoo’s vision. His blonde-bleached eyebrows were furrowed on his face. “Why do I feel like you’re not happy to be going back?”

Wonwoo let out a deep sigh, his eyes closing ever so slightly. His chest felt tight. “Because, Hoshi,” he grumbled, ripping up the letter and tossing it into his lantern flame, “I fucking hate Society.”

Wonwoo watched as the tattered pieces of the ripped parchment crumble into the orange-red flames. It was his fault, he guessed. Going back to Society, to the Capitol, was something he knew he had to face, once his reign among the knights was over. Three years, even for a man like him, was a long time to not show your face even once in a public Society event. He guessed this was Seungcheol’s passive reminder: get to your duties. He could almost hear it in his head.

Hoshi shook his head in faux disappointment, tsking. “Thought you knew better than that, Archduke Jeon. You nobility need to perform part of your duties, after all.” Hoshi’s grin makes Wonwoo’s lips stretch into a slight smile. “What? Has the battlefield ridden you of your noble blood, your grace?” Hoshi asked with an eyebrow raise.

Wonwoo just shook his head with a small smile and a sigh. But he couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being called an archduke. Being called your grace. Those were titles he was used to seeing his father carry – his father, who was a charismatic ruler, his father, who loved deeply and truly, and his father, who lay cold and lifeless in the Jeon Family cemetery next to his mother for two years.

Hoshi was not wrong, he knew. He knew there would be a time he would have to return to the very thing he hated the most about staying in the Capitol, about being a noble; whether or not he returned by his own volition was the question. And apparently Seungcheol had deemed three years, three years too much. The churning in his stomach could not be described as anything else but uncertainty.

As Hoshi talked animatedly, with flailing arms, about the night before, when the soldiers had broken out crates of rum and beer to celebrate the strengthening of the Northern borders from the “evil spirits,” as they had called them, Wonwoo stared into the crackling lantern flame. If he returned to Society, as per the royal decree and as per his friend’s request, he would have to face the portraits that hung on his Capitol estate’s portrait hall. He would have to walk through the halls of his own home that had once been full of deeper, older, wiser, laughter of his parents without them. He would have to face the claustrophobia-inducing, over crowded ballrooms of the private high society gatherings, attend meaningless hunting outings, and present himself to the greater nobility public like some sort of relic or trophy to be garnished with wreaths and golden medals of bravery after the three year battle.

But, of course, that was not all of the Society he had left behind. He had left behind a deeper, lovelier Society as well. Something – someone, he should say – that if he had any say in, he would keep hidden in the deepest parts of his heart. Someone, if he returned, who would – no, could – never be his again. She was not someone who waited around – especially if they had left like he did.

But perhaps…

No.

No, no, no.

He shook his head.

He could not bring his hopes up for nothing. He had a duty – to his duchy, to his family, to the legacy his father left behind, and to his country.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Wonwoo mumbles. Mostly to himself, yet Hoshi quietens in his rant at his friend’s words.

Hoshi drags a wooden chair over, swinging his legs around it to sit – chest against its back. “For Society or…” Hoshi does not need to finish his question for Wonwoo to understand. It is implied, as it always had been between the two of them.

Wonwoo sighed, burying his head in his hands. The balls of his palm rub into his battle-weary eyes. “For everything. My responsibilities, Society, the entry celebrations, and…” Now Wonwoo poses the discarded ending. Hoshi knows, he decides for himself. He knows already. Wonwoo could tell from his knowing glance out the tent flap.

“You’ve had responsibilities out on the battlefield, Woo. I believe your archducal duties are of a similar hierarchy?” Hoshi twirled a quill in his hand. The commander veers out of the way of the silent topic with a quick glance that promises Wonwoo another conversation – preferably over a glass of wine – in another time.

Wonwoo let out a tired laugh. “You jest. I fear my archducal duties far outrank the simple hierarchy of my responsibilities on the battlefield.”

Hoshi shrugged. “It is what you believe, sir.”

“It is what I believe,” Wonwoo murmured to himself. A hand slid down his face as he slouched down in his chair, a tired sigh escaping the battle-worn caverns of his lungs. “Fuck.”

One of King Seungcheol’s infamous re-entry balls was decided to be held in honor of Archduke Jeon returning to the Capitol, signifying his re-entrance into Society’s cluster of feathers and prim-propers from his years in the battlefields.

“Do you know how uncomfortable wearing this cape is?” Wonwoo complains for the fourth time, tugging at the golden lapels that hold the thick fabric to his shoulders. He huffs in apparent annoyance as the golden tips of the royal palace’s towers loom overhead when the carriage rattles to a slow trot and then a stop.

Hoshi, from his seat across Wonwoo, rolls his eyes, his own body decorated with the uniform of the royal knights, and a long gleaming sword hanging off of his hip. “Oh boo hoo,” he mutters, stepping out of the carriage as soon as the door opens. He dusts his white pants with a concluding groan as Wonwoo mutters something under his breath.

“What?” Wonwoo snaps, “When has it changed so that a man cannot simply complain about his uncomfortable and ill-fit dressings for a ball?” Wonwoo retorts. A strand of hair fell in his face as he crossed his arms. His tight military uniform – decorated diligently with captain stars, rings of honor, and golden medals of bravery – strains against his biceps. He stands next to Hoshi, adjusting his formal tie with a displeased wince of discomfort. “I would have much rather preferred-”

“-Wonwoo!” Hoshi interjects, a rough hand coming down harshly against Wonwoo’s back. One look in Hoshi’s eyes and Wonwoo hesitates to finish his sentence. “My friend, please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up. You look fine,” Hoshi groaned, walking up to the palace doors with Wonwoo in tow. “You should have expected this anyways,” he continues, giving a curt nod to the footmen that open the doors, “This is a ball held in your honor,” a familiar turn into a wider hallway, “Remember?” Hoshi’s neat uniform is pin-straight as he walks down the marbled halls. “And we’re already late. Do you want to get passive aggressively eaten alive by Society the first day back in noble action?” he throws Wonwoo’s way with a quick glance over his shoulder with a teasing grin.

Wonwoo sighs, following Hoshi through the gilded halls of the too-familiar palace. He could almost picture his younger self – five years old – running through the very halls, with Prince Mingyu and (then) Prince Seungcheol hot on his heels, all three of them giggling about something for another. He could picture the two of them, laughing – him with his head thrown back and her with her fan over her pretty pink lips – during the boring parts of each and every palace ball. The gilded palace was gilded – but not just in gold.

y/n

You were very confused.

And confusion never was something any noble wanted during a ball, nevermind the King’s re-entry ball, no matter how close your family’s ties ran.

Of course, you were not confused about who it was for. It was obvious. The Capitol’s newspapers (and most likely every other newspaper business in the nation), had spent the entire past week dedicating their front covers to the headlines that included, but were not limited to, one of the five following words: Archduke, Jeon, Return, Battle, Ball.

It was as if the entirety of noble society had decided to come together for this one re-entry event, which apparently had people jittery at the edges of their seats because the most eligible bachelor of any season, really, was back on the market. The one high noble who could pay off even the most expensive dowries, who could save a breaking family from complete, utter, desolate ruin, whose dark hooded eyes had enticed so many of the daughters from the highest noble classes, was back. He, on orders and grounds unknown, was returning from his three-year-long disappearance from Society and out into the vicious battlefields of the north.

And you were absolutely, jaw-droppingly so confused as to why both King Seungcheol and Prince Mingyu (mostly Seungcheol, though Mingyu posed no help), held you (almost) hostage at their sides, rambling and fluttering on about how you should stay with them until the entrance of the “main character.”

“Your highness, may I ask why?” you ask. Behind your proprietary fan covering the bottom half of your face, your lips curl in distaste. If it was wholly up to you, you would have been in a silken nightgown, getting ready for bed.

“Is brother still holding you here against your will?” Prince Mingyu’s laughing voice reaches your ears. You turn, meeting his broad frame. His one-shoulder cape glints at the top with a pure-gold cap, in dazzling contrast with his cream-white suit. In his hands are two flutes of bubbling champagne. He outstretches his arm, tipping one flute towards you with a grin, canines pushing down against his bottom lip. “For you, my lady,” he teases, slipping the flute into your gloved fingers. He gives you a cheesy wink, before breaking into a dimpled smile.

You roll your eyes, habituated with the prince’s oftentimes off-handed flirty remarks. “You ask that as if you have not been doing the exact same thing, your highness,” you huff, but you don’t reject the champagne flute, taking a sip of the bubbling liquid with a satisfied sigh. You clear your throat before turning to both Mingyu and Seungcheol, who is surveying the crowd. “Now I ask the both of you the same question.”

Mingyu throws an arm around Seungcheol, who stands still, staring at the entrance door to the ballroom with an impatient-tapping foot. “You know why.” He leans his head against Seungcheol, lightly stepping on his older brother’s furious foot with a mutter of maintaining a mask of patience. Seungcheol responds with a simple furrow of his thick eyebrows.

You tilt your head. Mingyu’s lack-luster responses and Seungcheol’s decision to blatantly ignore your words are doing absolutely nothing to quell your curiosity, let alone your confusion.

Usually, if this was like any other royal-hosted ball, Seungcheol would only keep you for a brief moment. That would frequently consist of introductions to any new or unfamiliar royal cabinet members. And then, he would let you go, which usually meant, for you, going to the closest empty table with a chair and sitting down for the rest of the night. At least until you deemed you had spent enough time brooding in peace in your despairing corner, that it was respectable enough towards both you and the royal family, to leave the ball and return to your estate.

Of course, you were not unapproachable. You were born and raised in Society. One of the first classes you remember taking with your grandmother was ballroom dance. Before (or many times during) your brooding solitary peace, either Mingyu, Seungcheol, or Duke Hong would leisurely make their way towards you and offer you your dance of the night.

Those times, when the familiar strings of the orchestra and the notes of the hired singer flowed through the crowded ballroom, you let yourself be guided. After all, it was your job.

“The lady is always supposed to be guided,” your grandmother used to say, “If a man, especially of high standing, does not guide a lady through a simple waltz, he is not a man. He is a coward not ready to face even the simplest of pleasures.”

“Save your first dance, y/n,” Seungcheol suddenly says, turning to her. His words seem oddly like an order, and you would not put it below him for it to actually be an order. His grin matches his younger brother’s. The furs of his dress stick out against his dark hair. And his entire being seems that much more irking in your eyes.

If he has another fucking suitor lined up already, I’ll kill him. To hell with the monarchy.

From next to him, Mingyu chuckles, as if he (they) knew something you did not. Which is usually the case, actually. You need to stop being so surprised.

“Why?” Your nose scrunches. Your fan is forgotten at your sides.

Seungcheol sighs, shaking his head slowly like you’re some under-developed child who could not get the full picture. “You’ll see.”

You snap your fan shut, crossing your arms. “Sometime soon, I hope?” A jolt of pain waves over your ankle, a testament to how long you’ve been standing in one place. You force down your wince.

Mingyu pokes your puffed cheeks with his white-gloved hand and a laugh. “Impatient much, duchess?”

You swat away his hand with a glance. Your head swivels as you say, “I have been waiting with much patience, thank you very much.” A lick of annoyance flickers in you when you catch at least seven pairs of eyes and gossiping mouths staring at you and the royal brothers. “It seems as though the Archduke is late,” you add, glancing at the giant clock on top of the entrance doorway.

Mingyu, now arm over your shoulder, tugs at your dress sleeves. “Awfully interested, aren’t you?” he grinned, a small bout of laughter ensuing at your barely concealed tick of anger. Not only at his words but also at his careless touches. He should be glad all of high society knew of your close family relations, or else his actions would have had dire consequences.

You push him away lightly, flicking your fan open again as you gently fan yourself, covering your mouth. “Awfully not, your highness,” you snap. Mingyu knew not to talk about that. You try to ignore the fact that the wound you had once thought was fully stitched up and closed, still hurts when poked. “If I can-”

BANG

“ANNOUNCING ARCHDUKE JEON AND THE COMMANDER OF THE ROYAL KNIGHTS, SIR KWON!” The herald’s voice echoed through the ballroom.

It was as if the entire ballroom was on a brief pause – the gossiping groups of ladies, the loud laughter of the business men, the rolling children, and even the orchestra. The violinists, cellists, and singer all paused, craning their heads to see through the throng of people who awaited the arrival of the main character – the battle-won most eligible bachelor of all the seasons: Archduke Jeon Wonwoo.

And all you wanted to do was to never see his face again.

And of course you prepared yourself. You prepared yourself the moment you had received Seungcheol’s and Mingyu’s separate request letters of your presence at tonight’s ball as part of the royal cabinet. You prepared yourself throughout the time Nai, your maid, rubbed oils into your skin, braided and twisted your silken hair, and pulled your corset tight against your straining ribs. Yet nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the real thing. The thing that was not born out of your imagination that had severely overworked itself over three years.

Because not only does Wonwoo look the part of the most eligible bachelor, he looks the part of a successful military commander, with his dark military uniform, draping cape, and glinting golden medals. It feels as if the entire ballroom moves towards him, like he has his own gravitational force, as if everyone is attracted to something in the man. You can already see the cliques of the younger ladies fan themselves lightly as their eyes glaze over his wide shoulders and chiseled face. The military uniform does nothing to hide his physique.

Your fan slowly rises to your face.

Your corset feels especially restricting when you see Wonwoo’s sharp eyes scan the ballroom. If this were any other situation, you would find the way Wonwoo leans down briefly to Soonyoung to whisper something with a confused furrow and Soonyoung breaking out into a shit-eating grin and tossing a wink towards the general crowd, exponentially more amusing. That had more fans fanning quickly towards the ladies’ face.

The entire scene reminded you briefly of when you were seventeen, when you had first been introduced to Society, standing almost in the same position as you were currently – next to the two princes who flanked you protectively with crossed arms – and Soongyoung, who was fresh into the Corps of Royal Knights then, and Wonwoo, who had just graduated from the National Academy, striding into your debutante ball late. The small waves and winks Soonyoung sends now towards the various gaggle of young, single ladies of Society reminds you, rather nostalgically, of when you, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Mingyu had all spread out in Mingyu’s foyer on a wintry December day, and all you had talked about were the numerous engagement offers Soonyoung was getting from noble families.

“What is this? Your thirteenth?” Seungcheol huffed, looking up briefly from Mingyu’s wide oak desk. He dropped his quill in the golden holder. “You’re gonna take away all the ladies from us at this rate, friend,” he laughed.

You missed, in a small part of your heart, the times when Seungcheol had not been pressed to marry, find his match, continue the legacy. Now, his smile never crinkled his eyes when breeching on the topic of marriage and engagements.

Soonyoung shrugged, legs dangling off of the couch’s arm rest as he flipped through a newspaper from last week. “Don’t know. You can have all of them, if you want, Coups,” he says, looking up from the tiny print. He gives a sideways look towards Mingyu. “And you too. Don’t want any of them. Not right now, anyways.”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both grumble about the unfairness of knightly and royal duties as Soonyoung goes off on a separate tangent about the recent addition of a tiger to the park zoo.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Wonwoo and Mingyu exchange an exasperated look. To be honest, you think it’s kind of cute – Soonyoung’s obsession with tigers, that is. It gives the man something childish in him. God knows he’ll need it in the battlefields one day.

Suddenly, from the open window, the winter wind blasts through Mingyu’s parlor, wiping papers off of the low tables and out of your hands.

You shiver, arms crossing around your torso. You rub against your thinly-clothed arms.

“Sorry,” Mingyu apologizes sheepishly, quickly glancing over at you. “Should’ve closed that thing.”

You wave him off, about to say something, when suddenly, a thick fabric is draped over your bare shoulders. You flinch at the sudden contact on your skin. From in front of you, Soonyoung’s eyes are wide, which looks rather comical when you see it in his entire position – upside down, legs spread around the backrest, black hair flapping.

“I told you to close it.” Wonwoo’s tone is almost chastising as he moves from behind you to back to his original spot next to you. He gives Mingyu an almost-glare that has the prince sheepishly standing. Wonwoo picks up his book again, shaking his head ever so slightly.

Mingyu gives Seungcheol a passive look before he sits down as well, eyeing the coat around your shoulders.

One quick glance down at the lapel, and you find what you were looking for. The Jeon Duchy’s coat of arms glints up at you, the house crest shining proudly under the chandelier lights. Your cheeks heat when you recognize the expensive cologne that fills your nose. When you turn towards Wonwoo, he’s back in his book, absorbed, apparently, in the tiny printed words on the page. Your previously scattered papers are neat on the table in front of you.

Wonwoo suddenly looks up from his book, catching your zoned-out stare.

Your eyes widen.

Wonwoo just gives you a small smile, before leaning forward and grabbing your papers. He lays his book face-down on his lap. “Do you need a quill?” he asks, handing you your papers.

He catches you so off guard (as if you were only staring at his face, not listening to what he was saying), that you almost stumble over your own tongue trying to respond casually.

“Er- Um- I mean, no. No, no, that’s fine,” you mumble, snatching the papers from his hand and scooting towards the other side of the long couch. “Thank you, though.”

It feels like Wonwoo’s smile grows at your words. If you looked a little bit closer, you would have seen the tips of his ears turn a blush red when you glance down, fiddling with the academic medals on his lapel.

“Anything for you,” he breathes, like it's a secret shared between you two.

Mingyu and Soonyoung stare at the whole interaction with a mixture of forced disgust, confusion, and awkwardness, and you don’t miss how Soonyoung pretends to gag, Mingyu following suit, before the two of them go back to their lengthy tangents.

From next to you, you miss Mingyu’s quick glance down at your movements and the knowing glance he and Seungcheol share.

Whispers break out as the two men – vastly different in the charismas they exude – stride towards the two royal family members.

And you realize they are heading towards you before you remember you are standing with the royal brothers. And everything suddenly clicks into place. Why the two, more Seungcheol than Mingyu, wanted you to stay for so long – until the “main character arrives.” There is a bubbling pot of the sudden innate need to whack the king over the head with your fan. But of course. That would be terribly unladylike. Nothing a woman in your station should be doing, let alone thinking about doing.

And it seems as if Wonwoo is as surprised at your presence on the royal platform because his dark eyes widen behind his glasses as he and Soonyoung stop in front of the raised platform you, Mingyu, and Seungcheol were standing on.

You feel horribly awkward. And Soonyoung’s gaze flitting between you and Wonwoo before bowing his head, trying to conceal his laughter, is doing nothing to make the situation better.

Seungcheol throws his arms out at the same time Wonwoo drops into a one-knee bow, Soonyoung in tow moments later behind him. At his sudden show of veneration, the crowd gasps softly and you shuffle backwards, only to hit Mingyu’s broad chest that blocks you from leaving the platform. You swallow.

You need to get off this stupid fucking platform.

But when you open and shut your fan, looking back at Mingyu, he seems awfully interested in exchanging eye contact with the ballroom’s chandelier. You know he heard your fan shut. The same, familiar spike of rage bubbles in your chest.

These fucking brothers.

“Success to your highness and peace to the nation.” Wonwoo’s deep voice, the one you had tried so desperately to forget, to lose in your discarded memories, to rip apart to shreds and feed to the dogs, echoes out against the quiet ballroom. If you strain your ears, you can hear, though, the stuttered gasps of the younger ladies and chaperones, on the verge of swooning at his first nine words. Resentfully, your brain conjures itself to the years when you were the same – fanning yourself to catch a handsome man’s attention.

You wish you had the courage to laugh. To elegantly step off this damning platform. To get away (run away) from the man in front of the king.

You feel Mingyu moving ever so slightly behind you until you stand perfectly in between him and Seungcheol. Then, in the softest hiss of a whisper he is capable of, he mumbles, “Stay still. You’re sitting with us now.”

You scoff quietly, raising your fan to your left cheek. The tips of the wooden stilts tickle your painted cheek.

From the corners of your eyes, you can see Mingyu pout. “Oh come on, duchess,” he whines. “I’m degraded down to fan talk?” His fingers wrap around your fan, pulling it down.

You’re glad you and Mingyu stand slightly off to the side because you don’t think you would be able to handle any more whisperings of your relationship with the men in your life Society has to cruelly offer.

“You read right? The Archduchies are part of the direct royal council, now.”

That makes you whip your head towards Mingyu’s. He is still facing forward with a practiced smile on his lips and hands in his pockets like this moment was the most relaxing all night.

You, however, probably look slightly insane. Any fan etiquette goes flying out of the ballroom door at Mingyu’s words. You? On the royal council? Of course, on the surface, it is a great honor. You would be the first non-married matriarch to hold some semblance of power in the royal courts. But you could stitch together the gist of how Society would react to this. And based on Mingyu’s decision to tell you this late into Society’s winter season, you could land a (very accurate) educated guess that Seungcheol was going to announce in the next twenty minutes.

“Are you crazy?” You whisper furiously, turning back to face the crowd. You can already see eyes slowly turn to the two of you, noticing your, now, not-so-subtle interaction.

Mingyu just grins, bumping his shoulder with yours. And you don’t even get a chance to hear what he says because Seungcheol suddenly says, “Of course! Of course!” with the most excited tone of voice you had ever heard him use. Apparently Mingyu thinks the same because his head follows yours in staring at Seungcheol. Both of you, but mostly you because Mingyu is still surveying the crowd with a bright, confident, blazing smile that has the ladies of the court drowning in his eyes, are too embarrassed to look confused at what his words mean because you had zoned out of his rather one-sided conversation with Soonyoung and Wonwoo a long time ago.

You can only stand stiffly in your place sandwiched between Seungcheol and Mingyu as both Soonyoung and Wonwoo rise slowly, giving Seungcheol a curt bow before turning to you and Mingyu. Your fan trembles with your hand as Wonwoo steps closer.

You had forgotten how it feels to know nothing of what was to come. Especially when it pertained to him.

Your heart stills momentarily when his eyes land on you, moving up to your face and holding you in your place for a split second. You can’t even describe it. The feeling of seeing him so up close after all these years. After you had promised yourself to forget him. After you had spent hours crying in your bathtub, Nia rubbing your back soothingly. After you had fallen asleep, at least in the first weeks, on top of your duvet, letters he had once sent you crowding half of your bed, fresh tear stains ruining the expensive ink and paper.

He looks so familiar it pulls at some part in your heart that you had thought was buried three years ago at a sparring ground. You observe him as he and Soonyoung pay their respects to Mingyu, who looks a pinch uncomfortable when his friends kneel in front of him.

Black strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes and crowd his forehead. His military cape pulls your attention to his shoulders, which look broader than you remember them to be. And you can’t help but admit that his tight military top does nothing to hide his worked physique. His family crests glints at the connecting junction of his cape and his uniform, and his sheath, hand-crafted as a gift for his seventeenth birthday, holding his sword, rests against his hips. He looks regal, noble, eligible – so much so that it almost shakes the foundations of the walls you had built.

Then he turns to you, those piercing eyes refocusing onto yours that don’t know where to land. His eyes? His lips? His chest? His shoulders? The crowd? A shadow of a smile paints itself onto his lips and you swallow.

Your mouth feels dry.

This can’t be real.

When you had imagined the re-entry ball, meeting Wonwoo, nevermind seeing him so personally, had never once crossed your mind.

Your fan slowly traced its path up to your right ear.

From behind Wonwoo, Soonyoung grins, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling at your fan movement. Your own lips curl up in your practiced way.

For the crowd, you tell yourself.

The entire ballroom seems to watch the two of you in your silence, which was turning more awkward by the second. Wonwoo’s eyes carve a road up and down your figure. It makes your hands clench your fan tightly.

You glance at Seungcheol, who nods, urging you to speak. You let out a small cough, averting your eyes briefly before your smile paints itself onto your lips again. Your fan falls.

“It seems the battlefield has treated you well, Archduke Jeon,” you smiled, opening your arm briefly in a practiced welcome.

It seems as if Wonwoo had not expected you to speak first, and for a second, he stands frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and hands still next to his body. At Soonyoung’s small embarrassed cough, he blinks rapidly, following your smile in suit. Except his looks too genuine, it tugs at your heart strings. And you berate your traitorous heart in wanting to pull him into a warm embrace.

Remember how he left you. He doesn’t want you.

The corners of your lips tremble.

Instead, you feign indifference, lifting your chin.

Wonwoo bows deeply first, followed by Soonyoung. He rises.

“I see Society has welcomed you back with open arms,” he replies, his voice a pinch above a whisper. His small smile offers it as a jest but his words stab a knife into your gut. He has absolutely no right in jesting about your failed engagements. Not after everything.

From behind him, you can see Soonyoung pinch his nose bridge, shaking his head ever so slightly, mouthing an apology to you.

Wonwoo’s eyes linger a moment too long on you, before reaching for your hand. Out of pure etiquette that has burned itself into your entire being, you offer him your hand, and his head is bowed, lips hovering mere centimeters over your lacy knuckles before you realize what you are doing. And by then, it’s too late to retract your offered hand.

Wonwoo’s lips meet the back of your hand.

His own gloved fingers hold your hand like you are made out of the most delicate of china, his touch barely-there.

And just as quick his lips are on your hand, it disappears from your skin.

“May tonight bring you as much warmth as your presence brings to it,” he murmurs, so softly that you have to strain your ears to hear it. But it’s there.

Wonwoo rises before you have a chance to process his greeting words that were murmured into your hand. You almost miss the way the tips of his ears are blush-red between strands of his hair.

Before you can say something else, Soonyoung is in front of you, bowing over your outstretched hand, pressing a light, airy kiss. You can feel him grin against your skin.

When he looks up, he has a teasing grin painted on his face, and you have to force yourself to not roll your eyes at how he wiggles his eyebrows up and down.

“Success and love for the Archduchess.” Soonyoung’s words echo across the ballroom, unlike Wonwoo’s.

Too busy retracting your hand from Soonyoung’s grip, you miss the way Wonwoo’s jaw clenches, face hardening at Soonyoung’s words.

: ̗̀➛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ @syluslittlecrows @gaslysainz @meowmeowminnie @luvjichang @peachytokki @nicoleparadas @haneulparadx @mj-szaa @lilylikesthat @ppaia @ameliamirabela @tearsdntfall617

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nellielsss · 5 months ago

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+†+🪦 A Pɾσρҽɾ Bʅαƈƙ Bυʅʅ Wҽʅƈσɱҽ!

Summary: when you date a Magic Knight Captain, it's only a matter of time until you meet their Knights! A/N: just some fluff for Yami! I tried to include as many characters as I could but I'm still getting used to writing multiple chars in one scene. Pairing: Yami Sukehiro x fem!reader CW: swearing, suggestive jokes

╰┈➤ "Is this really where Suke lives?" you asked nobody as you approached his base. "He's always told me not to visit, but this place is just... creepy. Still, I feel bad for making him visit me all the time. Why not pay him a surprise visit?"

You had been dating the famed Captain of the Black Bulls, Yami Sukehiro, for a few months--4 to be exact--and things were starting to get serious with him.

But they were never serious enough for you to meet his squad.

Sure, you had seen them in passing, tagging along with him on missions, but you've never met the Black Bulls in person. It was like they were his kids that he never wanted you to meet for whatever reason. Whenever you tried to ask him if you could meet them, he'd always say: "Nah, not happening. I don't need you meeting those knuckleheads; they'd probably blabber some stupid story and scare you off, and I don't need that."

For the better part, he actually made the effort to go and see you wherever you were. He'd venture as many miles as needed in order to do so. He also just never introduced you to the public in general because he was scared of someone going after you for a vendetta or revenge against Yami (he was a man with many enemies, after all). So, he was content with just going on private dates in secluded bars or spending the night at your place. Any chance he could take to spend time with you, he'd snatch it right up.

Why did you venture to the secretive Black Bulls hideout in the first place? Well, Yami had been busy with training for a while. The missions were swamping him, and his efforts to keep the devils at bay were, inadvertently, keeping your relationship at bay as well. He never had any time to leave the hideout unless it was to go on a mission or to an official summons, and because you were basically forbidden from going to HQ, it meant all you could do was communicate via letters.

And you were sick and tired of it.

You were an impatient girl. You didn't like being basically banned from seeing your boyfriend, no matter how legitimate his causes or concerns were.

You haven't had dick in ages--you were starting to lose feeling down there!! And lord knows his dick was good, so good it left you unable to walk on several occasions.

But you weren't there just to fuck him (although it was a big bonus of dating him); you were there to mend your little broken heart.

So, that's how you wound up on their doorstep. You went at a time which you knew it'd be empty, so you were sure you wouldn't have to meet those bulls. Even if he, himself, was out, you could just wait in his room as a little welcome home surprise.

"I don't suppose I have to knock before entering," you muttered, grabbing the latch of the door and opening the giant wooden slab. Just as you'd expected: the place was empty. Not a peep to be heard throughout the entire tower of oddly shaped rooms and windows that were jutting out of the wrong places.

"Well, this sure ain't too bad. I thought it'd be in ruins by the way Suke described it," you thought to yourself. As you stepped on the cobblestone floors and ventured inside the place, you took note of it. It had a certain charm to it, like a cozy tavern you'd seek refuge from a storm in. There were torches lit up by mana, different flags hanging from the walls, and a big bar in the left side of the room. "If he wasn't so protective of me, I could imagine myself living here with him..."

"Hello... who are... you?" a ghostly voice suddenly said from the hallway.

"Gah! Wait- is it seriously haunted? Was Sukehiro telling me the truth this whole time?!" You immediately hid behind a couch when you saw the mint-haired man standing there.

"I'm... not... a... ghost! I... keep... this... place... running," the ghost said.

"Are you sure? Because you certainly don't look too- gah!" this time, you were surprised to feel that all your mana was being drained from you, simply by being close to the man.

"I'm.. sorry... I... drain... people's... mana... on... accident. Don't... stand... too... close."

"Figured as much," you muttered, somehow able to break free from the man's mana pull. "I knew I shouldn't have come here... I thought all of you would be out for the day."

"You... didn't... answer... my... question. Who... are... you?"

"Oh, right... sorry about that," you said, rubbing the back of your neck, "I'm, uh... I'm Captain Yami's girlfriend. I came here hoping that none of you would be around, but it seems as though I made a mistake. I thought all of you would be on missions for sure!"

The man's ghostly face lit up in surprise when he realized who you were. "Oh! I... know... you... or, at least... I've... heard... of you... Captain Yami's... always... talking... about... some girl... who... he's... been... dating. We all... just... thought... that he... was... lying."

"You seriously thought that he was lying?" you asked in disbelief. "Then again, he is an acquired taste... Anyway, what's your name?"

"My... name's... Henry. I... don't... go on... missions... because... I'm... too... weak, and I'm... bound... to... this... house."

"Too weak?" you asked, feeling a bit sorry for the guy. "Jeez, that must suck. Anyway, Henry, nice to meet you- ahhh!!" he started draining your mana on accident again and you pulled away.

"Sorry..."

"It's fine, Henry; I forgot about your little quirk," you reassured him with a wave of the hand.

"You're... really... pretty. Too... pretty... to... be... dating the... Captain," Henry remarked, making you snicker.

"Well, thank you, Henry! Yeah, you probably couldn't picture him and I together, if I'm being honest. I guess I just have a thing for oblivious brutes," you giggled, making him smile in return. "Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Captain Yami about my impromptu appearance; he doesn't want me hanging around you guys. Somethin' about 'putting me in danger'? As if I could be put in danger," you remarked rather confidently. "I'm not really the type to submit to his wishes all that easily, but he seemed pretty serious about keeping our relationship under wraps. If you don't mind me, I'll be on my merry way-"

"Wait...! The... others... are... supposed to be... back... soon! You'll... get... caught... if you... don't... hide!" Henry warned you suddenly.

"H-Huh? Really?!" you asked him, already freaking out.

As if on cue, you could hear several voices chattering from the other side of the door, and you looked around in panic, trying to find a hiding spot. Henry was blocking the hallway, and if you got too close to him, you'd probably faint on the spot. You tried to hide behind the bar, only for the door to literally break down as the rowdy Black Bulls made their way home. You knew they were loud, but you didn't know that they were the type to break down doors! At the sight of the bunch, you instinctively froze up in fear, akin to a deer in headlights. You ducked for the nearest couch, hoping that they'd choose to go in the opposite direction.

"Did you guys see the way I took that guy down?! It was awesome! I totally surpassed my limits out there!!" A rather enthusiastic, short boy said to the others. That must've been Asta: the anti-magic user.

"You were pretty good out there--not that I'm complimenting you or anything! I'm still royalty compared to you," a similarly short girl with silver hair said. Based on how she was jabbing the boy with her words, that was probably Noelle.

"Just you wait, Asta--I'm gonna get stronger than you!" another guy with a mohawk and glasses said. Magna, if you weren't mistaken.

"I'd like to see you try to get stronger than him! If you do, then I'll spar with you until I get even stronger!" a blonde boy with a psychopathic smile quipped. Luck.

"Just don't go around breaking shit, okay, you numbskulls?" your oh-so handsome boyfriend Yami Sukehiro sighed. "We don't have the money to keep repairing the damage you guys cause."

"I'm going to go worship my sister, Marie," a guy with an apparent sister complex said: Gauche, to be precise.

"What a weirdo," you said to yourself. A few of their heads turned in the direction of your voice, and you hid your entire body behind the couch.

"What was that?"

"Whatever it was, it was telling the truth."

"If you boys don't mind, I'm gonna go have a drink at the bar!" a female voice said, her words already slurred.

"Aren't you already drunk, Vanessa?" another guy asked the witch.

"What's one more drink, Finral? You should come join me!" she replied. You quickly realized you were in deep shit when you remembered that the couch you were hiding behind was right next to the bar.

Well, this is the end, you thought. There was no way you could hide from these guys now. Even if you tried to make a run for it, your boyfriend was right there, and he'd probably teach you a lesson!!

You braced yourself for when the witch, Vanessa, would see you... which was right at that moment. "Umm, guys? Why is there a stranger hiding behind our couch?"

Your eyes shot open in fear, and you looked up at the girl, your face red with embarrassment. "Vanessa, what are you talking about? Are you seriously seeing things?- Oh, hubba, hubba!" the guy named Finral said once he saw you. "If I knew that cute girls would be sneaking into our hideout, I'd leave the door unlocked more often!"

One by one, all the Black Bulls clamored around the couch, wondering who, exactly, the two were talking about. They were all in wonder until Yami came over. Oh, how you dreaded this from the moment you walked in...

"(Y/N)--what the hell are you doing in my base?!" said boyfriend asked, making you flinch with how loudly he asked that question.

"Heh... hi, Suke," you said quietly, only for the man to pick you up by the scruff of your collar and make you stand up.

"Wait, do you actually know that girl, Captain Yami?" Finral asked the man.

"He sure does..." you said meekly.

"Yeah, I do," he sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Great, this is just what I needed: my Bulls slobbering all over my girlfriend..."

"Did you just say GIRLFRIEND?!" all of them asked in unison.

"I guess there's no time like the present," the man finally relented. Yami stopped pinching his nose and instead wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you next to him. "Everyone, this is my girlfriend of four months."

"GIRLFRIEND OF FOUR MONTHS?!"

"I didn't even know a woman could stand to be in your presence, let alone for that amount of time!" Noelle exclaimed.

"So, you mean to tell me that you bagged a babe like her?! Captain, you need to give me your secrets!!!" Finral said, practically on the verge of losing it at this revelation.

"Don't call my girlfriend a babe, pipsqueak!"

"THIS IS SO COOL!! SO YOU MEAN TO TELL US THAT YOU WEREN'T LYING ABOUT HAVING A GIRLFRIEND ALL THIS TIME?!" Asta exclaimed, his voice drowning out everyone else's questions. "PLEASED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE, MA'AM--MY NAME IS ASTA AND I'M FROM HAGE VILLAGE, AND YOU ARE VERY BEAUTIFUL!!"

"Stop yelling in my girlfriend's ear, are you trying to make her go deaf?!" Yami asked Asta before grabbing his lips and shutting him up forcefully.

"Would you like to spar with me?!" Luck asked, way too enthusiastically for his own good.

"How about a drink?" Vanessa asked.

"A nice, warm meal would be a great welcome for her!" Charmy proposed.

"I don't care if you're Yami's girlfriend: if you touch my sister Marie, I'll kick your ass," Gauche threatened you directly.

"Creep..." Yami muttered. "For the love of the Wizard King, all of you get off of her and stop harassing her with all your questions!!" he barked, now pissed off at the situation.

"Yes, Captain Yami, sir," all of them said, piping down finally.

"This is exactly why I didn't introduce her to all of you; none of you know how to act properly!" Yami yelled again, this time gritting his teeth in anger. You could tell he was getting riled up, so you put your hand on his chest and silently told him to calm down. His frustrated expression settled down to a simple frown, and he offered you a tiny smile. "Sorry, princess."

"I've never seen someone rein him in so easily," one of the bulls remarked in wonder.

"It's clear that Yami appreciates this woman and that we should treat her with the same respect with which we'd treat one of our own," Gordon whispered. Everyone still side-eyed him for how quiet he was being.

Yami took a deep breath and faced his subordinates again. "Anyway, this is my girlfriend of 4 months: (Y/N) (L/N). I expect all of you to treat her with the same respect you'd treat me, just as Gordon said." Everyone nodded, and for once he didn't feel like bashing their heads in.

"Captain Yami, if you don't mind me asking: how come we haven't met her before if she's so important to you?" one of them asked this time.

"Because, if I introduced her to all of you, one of you would blabber your mouths, and then word would get out that I had a girlfriend. That would put her in some serious danger, considering how many foes we face and enemies we have," Yami explained--and quite calmly at that. "And I like keeping my personal life separate from my life as Captain. I don't want the two to intermingle, even if both lives are equally important to me."

"I guess that makes sense..."

You decided that it was your turn to speak: "truth be told, Suke's always been so overprotective of me. He thinks I'm some delicate little flower who needs to be guarded at all costs, even if I'm a stage 0 mage. It's honestly ironic, considering how his type is strong women," you added with a giggle.

"Well, I can't let you get hurt because of me, princess," he said to you quietly. "Even if you are strong, there's always the chance that someone might go looking for you."

"Look at him, he's so protective of her! It's honestly kinda cute," Vanessa remarked, taking another sip of her drink. Yami merely glared at her before looking at all of them again.

"How come she found out about the base if you're so protective of her? Isn't its location supposed to be private?"

This was a question meant for you, it seemed, even if it was directed at Yami. "Well... your horse and buggy's a little quick to give up information if you're pretty enough," you giggled mischievously, playing with your hair as if you were innocent.

"Finral!" Yami said through gritted teeth.

"I-I just figured she was curious!" the boy said, trembling at the possibility of being punished by their Captain.

"I guess I just have my ways," you giggled again. "I couldn't stay away from my boyfriend for too long, not when I have needs!" you shot a wink at Yami, and all he could do was blush in place.

"I don't even wanna know what those needs are..."

"Don't speak of such things around my sister, Marie," Gauche quipped, making you furrow your brow.

"She's not even here--that's a picture you're holding!!"

"She's here in spirit."

"Stop starting fights when we have guests," Noelle interjected, being the voice of reason for once. She then decided to ask you a question. "So, I simply have to know: what possessed you to date the man for four months? From what I've seen, he's not the most perceptive man out there!"

"Noelle, you can't just say that about our captain in front of his girlfriend!" Asta said to Noelle.

She huffed in response. "As if you'd be any better!!"

"Slander my name to her like that and I'll kill both of you," Yami threatened them, making them both jump.

"But I didn't even do anything wrong!" Asta whined defensively.

"To be honest," you started, making everyone look at you again. "I was the one who initially had a crush on him. I know he's not everyone's type, but he sure is mine. Anyway, it was kinda hard getting him to notice my feelings for him. In the end, all it took was for me to simply confess my feelings for him and hope that he'd reciprocate them! And Suke may not look like the boyfriend type, but he's actually the most caring and considerate man I've ever met; he just doesn't show any of you that side... At least, not as forwardly as he does to to me."

Noelle thought about your words, and she couldn't exactly do anything but take your word for it. "If you say so... But, I still just don't get it! You're so... pink, and he's so... whatever he is!"

"Well, everyone has their type," you shrugged.

"But, how do you deal with his bowel issues?"

"Noelle!"

You couldn't help but giggle at her question. "By buying extra toilet paper, of course!"

"(Y/N)..." Yami trailed off, embarrassed by the topic. "All of you: bowel issues are no laughing matter! I go through battles every single day in that room."

"Yeah, we know."

After the Black Bulls laughed at your little statements, he decided to move on to the next part: "alright, enough of a Q&A session. Since you came all this way, I'd imagine you'd be staying over for dinner?"

Your stomach growled in response to his question. "Oh, yes, please. I'm starving--this place is so far from the nearest town!"

"Not to worry, my fair lady!" Charmy suddenly said, standing up on the table. "Chef Charmy here will cook up an amazing feast to welcome you to our humble abode!"

You looked at Charmy and then at Yami. "Can the half-dwarf really do that--cook well?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Her food is rich with mana."

"Fear not," Charmy repeated, "for you deserve a proper Black Bull welcome!"

Just as Yami promised you: Charmy cooked up a feast fit for several kings from far away lands and then some. Her cotton magic combined with her food magic made for plenty of meals and dishes to go around, and, although simplistic in their nature, each meal left you wanting more.

You were, of course, seated beside your boyfriend Yami (you were almost touching him), and the pink-haired witch, Vanessa, decided to sit on the other side. "You simply must try this drink, (Y/N)!"

"Oh, I don't drink much, but thanks for the offer," you said. Your efforts were in vain, seeing as she had already filled your cup.

"Don't overdo it, princess. I don't want you stumbling about the place. Y'know, since you can't really handle your liquor," Yami warned you.

"I'll try not to, Suke."

After filling up your cup, Vanessa decided to ask you a boatload of questions, as did all the other Black Bulls. Asta asked you about your family back at home; Vanessa asked you about your relationship; Luck asked you about your fighting skills; Gordon asked if he could be your friend (and make a doll that resembled you?); etc. All the other Bulls asked you unique questions that were different according to their personalities and interests, and you were happily to answer all of them. It wasn't everyday that you got to talk about your wonderful relationship!

As the night settled down, though, a certain personal question was asked by a certain witch who was to your right. "So, (Y/N), I hope you don't mind me asking you this, but... are you happy in your relationship?" It was on brand for the witch, considering that she liked to talk about relationships and was also quite drunk.

"Vanessa, don't ask those kinds of questions," Yami warned the witch. "You've just met her-"

You answered it, though, regardless of how personal it was. Maybe it was the alcohol that opened you up more, but you gave her a smile and said: "more than you could imagine, Vanessa. Suke makes me happy in ways I cannot imagine. Brash as he might be, he still cares for me, and I can see that he also cares about the lot of you in his own special way. You're his family, after all; I'm just the lucky girl who he chose to open up to." It was more than you intended to say, but it got the point across pretty well. You took another sip of your drink, unaware of the way that they looked at you.

"Wow, that's... I sure am glad that you're happy!" Vanessa exclaimed, throwing her arm around your shoulder (and almost falling out of her chair).

"We all are, (Y/N)," Noelle also said with a slight smile.

"We might've just met you, but if you're a friend of Captain Yami's, then you're a friend of ours!" Asta exclaimed.

"I hope we can be great friends," Gordon whispered.

With each praise, each remark of approval, you couldn't help but smile at them. Truth be told, you'd been longing for a group of people who you could call home. Much like Noelle, you, too, had been shunned by your family for reasons you couldn't explain. Yami had been your lighthouse, your guiding rock all this time, but the idea that there was a whole other group out there who you could lean on for support kept your spirits up.

You might've just met them, but you already felt at home.

"Welcome to the fold, kid," Yami muttered into your ear before kissing the skin behind it.

Now that dinner was all cleaned up and over with, the two of you retired to Yami's bedroom. He shut the door behind him quietly, breathing a sigh of relief. "(Y/N), you have no idea the heart attack you almost gave me back there." Although he let the stoic mask drop and be replaced by the softness that he showed you, he still couldn't help but scold you. "Seriously--I wasn't prepared to introduce you to all of them."

"I didn't mean to surprise you like that, I just... look, I planned on sneaking in and going to your room and surprising you there. I wanted to see you--you've been so busy these past few weeks! I really didn't mean to meet them so early," you said, taking your earrings off and putting them on the nightstand.

Yami took the opportunity to sneak behind you and wrap his arms around your body. "I know I've been busy, princess; I would've snuck you in if you asked me to, though."

"I was impatient, Suke. You know how long those letters take to deliver; I wanted to see you today."

He didn't scold you; rather, he chuckled deeply and pressed his lips to the top of your head. "Well, aren't you an impatient princess?"

"You gave me that title, Sukehiro," you quipped, making him chuckle again.

"I guess I did."

After a few moments of silence, and after you'd taken your jewelry off, he took the opportunity to hug you tighter and let his lips travel down your neck. "Well, since you're here... I might as well get that loving in, hmm?"

"You might as well," you quipped. You stopped talking, instead letting him kiss your neck and your shoulder. You were so small in his arms--like a goddamn kitten! Even though you were strong, confident & fierce in your daily life, when you were with your beloved, you were like putty in his big hands, reduced to mush in a matter of moments.

"Good god, woman, I've missed you," he growled, letting his big hand trail up your shirt. "You have no idea how hard it was to resist the urge to just drop everything and come running to you."

"That's no way for a Magic Knight Captain to behave," you teased him, making him spank your ass out of annoyance.

"I know, princess." He went back to kissing your exposed shoulder and decided to take it a step further. "Turn around for me, baby," he rasped into your ear. You obliged happily, turning around to face your boyfriend. "That's more like it," he said, cracking a smile before attacking your lips. His chapped, rough lips kissed your much softer & sweeter ones, his tongue intermingling with yours and tasting the sweetness of your mouth. "Missed this... the way your lips taste," he whispered, angling your head so he could kiss you deeper.

"Missed yours, too," you murmured to which he raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't you say I smelled like cigarettes and beer?"

"That was before I made you quit all that shit. Now, shut up and kiss me," you said before diving in again.

"As you wish." He spun you guys around so that he was sitting on the bed and you were in between his legs. "What're you standing there for? Sit on my lap, sweetheart." You happily obliged and straddled his hips, letting the man pull you in for another deep, passionate kiss. His wandering hands trailed up and down your sides until he finally decided to peel off your shirt.

"Suke, it's cold," you whined.

"Then lemme heat you up," he rasped, continuing to let his hands run amok. Every time he got his hands on your soft, supple skin, he felt his heart skip a beat. You were just so goddamn perfect for him--you were like an angel, sent to keep him tamed. He trailed kisses down your neck and to your chest, kissing and biting at the soft fat of your breasts. "Mind if I take this thing off?" he asked, sticking a finger underneath the clasp of your bra.

"Only if you take this off," you quipped, peeling your boyfriend's tank top off, giving you access to those sweet muscles that you were so incredibly attracted to.

"Like what you see?" he rumbled with a cocky grin on his face.

"More than you could imagine," you giggled, pushing him back onto the bed and earning a spank from the brute's big hand.

"Come here and give your man some loving, hmm? He's missed having you in his bed."

You promptly requested a change of squad the next day. The Crimson Lion Kings would understand.

Bσɳυʂ ʂƈҽɳҽ: Nαƈԋƚ Fαυʂƚ! ⋆♱✮♱⋆

"So, this is the girlfriend I've been hearing so much about, Captain Yami?" the man, who was his vice-captain, asked him. It was a rare occurrence for him to leave the shadow realm and go back to HQ, but when he heard that his old friend of so many years had gotten himself a girlfriend, he couldn't resist the urge to meet you. His eyes flickered from Yami to you, and you felt like they were staring into your soul.

"Yeah, this is her: (Y/N), (L/N). Try not to scare her off and say anything bad about me, 'kay?" Yami asked of the young man.

Nacht offered you a smile and even outstretched his hand from his coat. "Pleased to meet you, my name is Nacht Faust. I was wondering when Captain Yami would find someone who'd put up with his antics," he said, surprisingly friendly for how reserved he seemed.

"Do I really have that kinda reputation?!"

"Yes, you do."

"Um... nice to meet you as well," you replied, unsure if you should be scared of him or be glad he was so friendly.

"Anyway, I should get going. I can't exactly stand to be around your boyfriend for so long," he said in that eerily calm voice before slinking back into a shadow. "It was nice to meet you again!"

"Yeah, it was..." you trailed off as the man disappeared into the shadowy side of that wall. "Is he always like that?"

"He's usually worse," Yami sighed. "Anyway, let's go back to bed. I'm tired."

"But it's 3 pm!" you protested. He merely scoffed and threw you over his shoulder. "Hey, put me down!!"

"Does it look like I care? I'll cuddle my girlfriend anytime of the day I want."

#yami sukehiro #yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro smut #black clover x y/n #black clover x reader #black clover smut #black clover fandom #black clover #finral roulacase #vanessa enoteca #asta black clover #luck voltia #magna swing #gauche adlai #gordon agrippa #noelle silva #charmy pappitson #nacht faust

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winterrrnight · 8 months ago

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babe I just had the best idea for a rafe concept it pains me

Okay so imagine like reader is at work (somewhere idk where) and she just gets so overwhelmed but her and rafes relationship is still new so she doesn't call him because she doesn't wanna bother him....😭

I'm probably not the first person to think of this but it ON MY MINDDDD

literally dropped everything to write this!!!! this reader is way too me coded and I cannot :’) thank you so so much for the req vee 🥹💗 you asked for a concept… I wrote a fic…. :D I hope you like this vee <3

down for you

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: rafe wants you to be able to rely on him for anything and everything.

WARNINGS: the reader is a preschool teacher and quite self dependent; lots of fluff; cute nicknames; lovesick rafe (my fav fr); minimal swearing

EDITH SPEAKS: this request speaks volumes to me 🥹 this is way too me coded, and I just had to write it, I hope you all like this! the ending is maybe a bit abrupt tho :( please like and reblog if you liked reading <3 feedback is always appreciated 🍹

navigation || join my taglist || requests

I should leave, I haven't yet, but when you smile, I just forget

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You can swear this day can't get any worse. You’ve been on your feet basically the entire day, always rushing from your students here to there. You love the little kiddos with your entire heart, but today, for some reason, they are being an extra pain in the ass. They aren’t as cooperative as you’d prefer; you don’t know what’s gotten into them, they are like little energy packets constantly running around.

Due to some teacher duties you aren’t even able to sit down for your lunch break, taking away the only 15 minutes you have to yourself. And it just gets progressively worse when you finally leave the school to go back to your place and your car has a slashed tire, and today had to be the day when you don’t have a spare tire in your trunk.

It’s been over 6 hours since you left your house this morning, and it’s just Tuesday, but it’s feeling like the longest, most excruciating week ever. You’re now leaning against your car door, letting out a deep exhale as you lean your head back, feeling a headache creep into your brain and pulse harshly. You’re tired, hungry, absolutely exhausted… and all you want are the warm hugs of your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Rafe is quite a new addition in your life, both of you being together for a mere month. He’s been so loving to you, always protective and just genuinely taking great care of you.

You pull out your phone and find his contact, but before you can dial him, your thumb hovers over his name in sudden realization – he’s always at work at this time.

You begin to contemplate your initial decision of asking him to come here to help you out, and then ultimately decide against it, realizing he’s probably very busy at work, and would only be heavily distracted if you call him.

So, just like how you always do it, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

It’s nearing 6 pm when you finally get to reach your place. You had to make calls to get yourself a mechanic to get your car fixed, who took his sweet sweet time to come to you. You’re now completely exhausted, wanting nothing more than just to plop on your bed and sleep till your heart desires. You can hear your stomach grumble since you never had the chance to eat the lunch you missed out on, but you make it a problem for later, deciding to just take a nap first.

As you drive into your driveway, you recognise Rafe’s black Range Rover already parked, with him standing next to it, leaning back against the hood of his car as he’s looking intently at his phone. As he catches the sound of your car driving, he instantly looks up, watching your car enter the driveway.

Before you can properly park and get out, Rafe rushes to you, opening the door for you.

“Oh my god where have you been?” He asks you, his voice laced with concern. “I tried calling you and texting you, you always come back home by late afternoon,”

You step out of the car and Rafe shuts the door, a hand quickly landing at the small of your back as you both walk to the porch of your house. He can see you’re really tired; droopy eyes, heavy steps, deep sighs; he knows something happened.

“Yeah my phone died,” you mutter as you unlock the main door of your house, both of you stepping inside. “I just… today was kind of a heavy day, nothing much honestly,” you shrug as you toss your keys in the dish and remove your coat and shoes.

“What happened?” Rafe asks, still really concerned for you as he watches you take off your cost and hang it on the coat rack. As you’re done, you face him with a small smile on your face.

“Nothing much, really,” you say softly, gently cupping his cheek with a hand and tenderly caressing his skin. “Don’t worry, yeah?” You mumble, taking your hand off his cheek as you make your way to the kitchen.

Rafe stays on your heels, following you and monitoring every single move of yours – your padding till the fridge, opening it, getting a bottle of water, unscrewing it and drinking from it.

“You look so exhausted, I can see it in your eyes,” he comments. “Your hair is all messy, your clothes are dirty; it’s clearly not nothing. Come on, tell me, what happened,”

His voice is stern, but not in an angry way; but in an apprehensive way. He moves his hand to your face, gently brushing your hair as he fixes some of the unruly strands.

As you finish drinking your water; drinking almost all of it in one go, you keep your bottle aside and let out a sigh, turning to look at him. “It was just one of those… heavy days, but it’s over now yeah? I’m now home,” you say softly.

“But just tell me what happened,” Rafe’s voice now drops to a whisper as he moves closer to you, continuing to weave his fingers through your hair.

You close your eyes for a moment, delving into the relaxing feeling of Rafe’s fingers softly combing through your hair, but also realizing he’s going to keep pressing for you to tell him what happened.

“The kids were a bit uncooperative today,” you say with a soft chuckle. “And then we have this event coming up at school, so I was busy for my entire lunch break preparing for it. And then my car had a flat tire and I didn’t have a spare so I had to get a mechanic, which took most of the time. But besides that, nothing much happened,” you say with a small shrug.

“Besides all that?” Rafe mutters incredulously. “That’s already a lot, baby, why didn’t you call me when you found out about your flat tire? I would’ve come; or sent someone to get you, we would’ve had lunch in my office, and I would have had someone take care of the tire and bring your car back too.” There’s a small frown on his face and he now holds your face in both his hands, gently skimming your cheeks with his thumbs.

You look up in his soft, baby blue eyes. “I did think of calling you but-”

“But?”

“But I thought…” you take a deep breath, your eye contact with him faltering. “you’ll be busy, and I didn’t want to be a burden to you, really, I was able to get it all fixed just fine,”

You can hear Rafe tsk; his tongue clicking against his teeth as he softly shakes his head. “I’m never busy for you okay? My work does not ever get more importance than you, okay? It never does, and it never will, especially when you’re in trouble and need help,”

He gently grips your chin and tips your head back just a bit, making you look at him. His eyes are softened, the blue even more warmer than usual.

“I know you prefer to do things on your own,” he whispers, “but you have to realise that you really don’t need to do each thing on your own, especially now that I’m around. I won’t mind, really, and besides, I would love to show everyone off at work that I am the boyfriend of the most beautiful person on this damn planet yeah?”

You can’t help but chuckle softly at his words as you keep looking in his eyes.

“So, promise me, next time you need any sorts of help, want me to do something for you, or just want me to be there, you don’t think twice about calling me up okay?” He says softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He can see the reluctancy in your eyes, but you eventually give in and nod.

“Okay, promise,” you murmur, smiling as you wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. He gladly hugs you back, snuggling his face in your neck as he gently rubs your back.

“So…” you speak up, and he hums back in response, both of you still hugging.

“I’ll take up on that offer right now. I’ll go and shower, and you make something for me to eat yeah?”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @shores-kayla @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment @rafesgiirl @theoraekenslover @fals3-g0d @personalfavsthatarerandom @b1mb0slvt

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violetrainbow412-blog · 2 years ago

Text

Touching [K. B.]

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: you and Kaz share physical contact for the first time

warnings: established relationship, trauma, PTSD, spoilers for S&B season 2, here Kaz has no romantic feelings for Inej, and I don't even know where the hell this is located in canon (just imagine that the problem at the end of the series never happened) oh and Imogen's name appears in books according to google

taglist: @rustyyyyspoonz @be-lla-vie @milkshake0 @ladespedidas

Kaz Brekker could swear that he would faint at any moment as he climbed the stairs to his room, the cane in his left hand being the only impediment for this to happen. That day he had to leave the Slat to attend to some business that was complicated by the march and resulted in a physical altercation. Fortunately he hadn't been hurt, but he couldn't say the same for the other men.

Before opening the door, he let out a tired sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, mentally reviewing the pending documents that he would surely have to review the next day, but when he entered the room, his entire train of thoughts was overwhelmed by a presence in the place.

It was you, who was sitting in his desk chair with a book in your hands, from which you looked up when you heard that he had entered. You were already wearing a faded nightgown to sleep in and your features showed tiredness, but also calm.

"Hi," you said straightening up. Kaz felt your mere presence light up the entire room and his shoulders relaxed as you spoke.

"Hello" he replied with a hint of a smile. Without saying anything he went ahead until he reached the bed and you followed him with your eyes, turning in the chair to face him.

“Is it okay if I stay here? I'm sorry I didn't ask you before”

"It’s okay" he replied quietly.

It had been a couple of months since you and Kaz had decided… how shall I put it? Try to have a relationship. You had always been firm in the idea of conquering Kaz Brekker, even with his bad reputation and his difficult nature, since you joined the crows, a few years ago. He never understood why you did it, even feeling suffocated by your attentions, but over time (and after a lot of effort) he began to feel affection for you and eventually he came as close as he could feel to love. He began to care for you, to enjoy your company, and to feel nervous whenever he looked at you, which Nina helped him interpret as a crush.

You trusted that, despite his short temper, Kaz had a good heart and he had shown that more than once. You had never received mistreatment from him (beyond his typical responses towards others), he defended all the members of your group tooth and nail and he was firm in his ideals. Yes, of course he was a criminal, a gambler, and sometimes a murderer, but you knew that he was neither the only nor the worst in The Barrel. Besides, his motives were valid… most of the time.

So it was that a few months ago, during a drunken night, you two confessed your feelings. You were too cheerful to think about what you were saying and it was inevitable that the words slipped out of your mouth like water from a river. Kaz wasn't drunk enough to stop understanding what you were saying and you have a vague recollection that he just put you to sleep and didn't say anything. But hours later, when Jesper had personally taken it upon himself to push the black-haired man to his drinking limits, he burst into your room and only told you that he liked you too. Of course, in the morning the hangover was accompanied by guilt and when you sought him out to apologize, you were surprised that he hadn't felt offended and hadn't taken back his words either. You concluded that maybe the alcohol had given both of you the courage you needed and that was okay.

For a few days the matter remained like this, but then Kaz made an appointment with you in his office and steeling himself with courage, he told you about his interest in having something with you, but warning you that, considering all his characteristics, he was possibly not the best option and what should you look for someone better if you wanted it that way. But you wanted to try things and even more so if he had been the one who proposed it.

You were patient the whole time and gave Kaz the space he needed. Sometimes you just spent time in his office, in silence, and watching him work was satisfying enough. Little by little he allowed you to enter more spaces of his daily life and although you had kept the relationship private, suspicions arose one morning when you left his room and Nina, probably the gossipiest of your friends, saw you.

A couple of times you had held his hand over his gloves and once you had kissed his cheek, only because he was too asleep to notice. It was slow progress, but you could live with it.

Now you were trying to sleep together. You'd obviously replaced Kaz’s thin mattress with a larger one and figured out a way to make it work; between him and you, you placed a line of pillows so that you avoided physical contact. Simple but effective.

"How was it?"

“It could have been better”

"You should rest" you suggested, analyzing how bad he had been after the fight that he surely had. There were no visible bumps or scratches, thankfully.

"Yeah, I will" he replied very vaguely. You saw him look up a little at you and you wondered what he was looking for "What were you reading?"

“Huh, a book that Jesper won in a bet. It is the story of a warrior princess who has to defend her kingdom”

"Sounds nice" he exclaimed. There was the beginning of a smile gracing his face and you didn't think he was aware of it, but he'd been doing it for the past couple of weeks every time you talked to him about something. Every time you spoke, simply.

"It is," you said happily. Kaz had already made a mental note about your fascination with literature, and at the next heist he planned to keep a couple of books for you, if the opportunity arose.

You wanted to continue talking to him, but the truth was that you were only waiting for him to arrive to sleep and you were sure that, although he wouldn’t admit it, Kaz needed rest as much as you did. That's why you got up from the chair and before he said anything else you sat on the bed, next to him.

"I'm tired" you murmured, making a tiny pout and watching him with tender eyes. He was very handsome, you thought of that whenever you saw him.

"Lie back, while I organize some things"

"Come on, Kaz" you complained, b because you knew these activities could last hours and he deprived himself of sleep to finish them "Tomorrow you can do it, sleep with me" you insisted, stretching out your hand until you reached his. He was wearing the gloves and your fingers slipped under his, only taking the tips around your hand.

Both of your gazes landed there, you wondering what it would feel like to hold Kaz’s hand without the leather in between and him admiring the difference in size between your hands and his. You had them damaged around the nails and the skin marked with a few moles, but for him they were perfect. When you started to move your thumb from side to side he looked up, noticing that his eyelids were already weighing you down, and he sighed. For some time now he hasn't been able to say no to anything you ask of him, much less when you look so delicate and hold his hand.

"Okay, go to sleep then"

You suppressed a smile, without much success, and watched him remove several layers of clothing to only be left with his shirt and pants. You had never seen him naked, and you doubted very much that you would soon, but you liked the lightness that appeared in him when he was left with few clothes. As if by taking them off he was also abandoning all the problems that he accumulated during the day.

You carefully slid to your side of the bed, against the wall, and made sure the pillow divider was in place. He kept you company moments after turning off the lamp.

"Good night," you said kindly. Whenever you stayed there you wanted to tell him that you loved him before going to bed, but the intention never materialized. The first few times Kaz was very tense and hardly slept, although by this point he had gotten used to it and he was handling it well; even he would say that he rested more knowing that you kept him company.

"Sweet dreams," he said, with a gentle tone that took you by surprise. You were internally grateful that the room was dark or he would have seen your flushed face.

It didn't take long for you to give up, but Kaz, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't fall asleep. Although having you by his side had relaxed him a lot, for a couple of days there was a matter interrupting his thoughts and it was related to the dreams that had come to replace his habitual nightmares.

In all of them you were the protagonist and he... touched you. In every possible way and every sense of the word, as if it were something natural that didn’t take any effort. At first he was terrified of how real the dreams felt, almost swearing that the night before he had passionately kissed you only to realize that you were still on the other side of that fence of pillows you had placed for his comfort. Kaz had wanted to ignore all of this, but each time these thoughts became more frequent and stronger: What would it feel like to hug you? And accommodate your hair? Would he be able to caress you as he knew you wanted and deserved?

The black-haired man could be evil at times and he seemed unaffected by anything, but the insecurities and fears inside him were bigger than anyone could imagine. Even the day you confessed to him that you liked him, he feared that you were lying or that it was just drunken incoherence.

So now that a few months had passed he felt he had to offer you at least some physical contact or else you'd end up getting bored of him like Imogen once had. But that was another story.

Kaz was startled when he heard you complain and looked silently in your direction, but it turned out that you weren't awake, you had only changed position. From that angle he could see the whole silhouette of your body and part of your face, even more peaceful when you were asleep, everything so beautiful that he wondered how you could be real and especially because you were sharing a room with a person like him.

His hands didn't have gloves on and even though they had been at his sides the whole time, he felt the urge to move them away. He wondered what it would feel like to touch your skin or if he would actually be able to do it without panicking and as the desire was greater than the fear, without giving it much thought he reached out his arm towards you, preparing to touch your bare forearm. He breathed once, then twice, and finally, he did.

He had to remind himself that your skin wasn’t that of some wet corpse and for this he concentrated on how it really felt; it was warm and soft. His hand trembled on your body and he feared to wake you, but even with this he didn't move away. He didn't know how long it was before he was able to breathe normally, but once he did he waved his hand a couple of times and if you had been awake you would have been amazed at the gentleness with which he did it.

Kaz pulled away a few seconds later, seized with the sudden strange feeling that he couldn't leave him so easily, and with an angry huff he jumped up to wash his hands. He wanted to change and improve for you, but it was complicated and it frustrated him.

Either way, he was thankful that you hadn't seen his experiment and concluded that it was better, so he could move at his own pace. When he lay down again he kept looking at you, taking the opportunity to reflect on the matter, until his body couldn't take it anymore and the unconsciousness of the dream ended up consuming him completely.

And of course, he dreamed of you again.

The days passed as normal and life at The Barrel continued as usual. The crow club was in full swing after the renovations Kaz had done, almost a year ago now, and there was more work than ever. Jesper and Wylan always went everywhere together and the girls at The Menagerie were great with attention, but it still seemed like it was never enough. Nina and Matthias weren't very active members and Inej's visits weren't as frequent now that she led a life at sea. You were in charge of supervising several of the things, on behalf of your boyfriend, and sometimes you also served drinks. The club had gone from being the favorite place for seedy drunkards to a refined place where more and more people came to gamble and have fun. Of course more visits meant more money and you knew that made the owner happy, but it also loaded him with work.

"Knock, knock," you said happily, as you peeked out of his office door, tray in hand. Kaz raised his head from the papers with the accounts he was reviewing and met you "I brought you dinner"

"Dinner?"

“Yes, it is one of the three meals of the day. It's important and you always forget about it" you explained, placing a plate in front of him that contained some cookies, and bread and leaving a cup of coffee without sugar next to it "I didn't know what you might be craving, so I brought something light"

“Thank you,” he said as he watched you drop into an adjoining chair, your own mug of hot chocolate in hand.

"How is everything going?"

"Okay, I'm still missing a couple of things"

"Do you want me to go?"

"No" he replied. How could you think of that? Of course he wanted you there.

During these weeks you had noticed Kaz a little strange, as if he was suddenly more condescending or permissive with you, but you enjoyed these changes. You couldn't know it, but he had been running little experiments like the one he did when you were sleeping. When you were interrupting the path he needed to travel, he would move you to the side at the waist, when you sat next to each other at crow meetings, he would link his knee to yours, and you caught him picking some rubbish out of your hair more than once. So you, too, had begun looking for more intimate ways to engage with him, like taking him out to dinner after a tiring day, curious as to how far he would let you go.

You made small talk about trivial matters and took the opportunity to make sure he consumed some of what you brought him, which he did with pleasure.

When you finished Kaz went back to his work and you decided that it was better to occupy yourself with something else, preferably quietly so as not to interrupt him. Your visits to his study were almost always like this, so you already had some things for your entertainment in a drawer. You pulled out a puzzle that you and Inej used to put together all the time and spread it out on the floor, sitting in a lotus position in front of it, willing to be at it for a while.

But on that particular day he couldn't focus on anything but you. Out of the corner of his eye, he would catch a glimpse of your attentive frown and your hands tapping the floor impatiently for not finding the right pieces, finding both quite adorable.

All day he had been seriously thinking about making a risky move and now that the opportunity presented itself he felt more nervous than he had imagined, so he kept silent for a long time where you didn't even notice the crisis internal he was having.

"Kiss me"

The words were spoken so quietly and hastily that you feared you had hallucinated them and your neck might have snapped from the quickness with which you looked up at him.

"Did you say something?"

"Kiss me" he repeated, loud and clear so that this time there would be no doubt of what he was saying. You felt that your heart was going to jump out of your chest due to the astonishment that such a sudden request produced in you. Kaz was asking you for a kiss? Impossible.

You were stunned for a few seconds, looking directly into those sky-colored eyes that were waiting for an answer. What kind of kiss was he asking you? It was like a kiss on his cheek or… on his lips perhaps? Why was he asking you that in the first place? And why had he thrown it at you just like that?

"If you don't want to, that's fine," he added, with a disappointed tone, and you jumped to your feet as soon as you heard that.

"No, no. I was just... surprised, that's all" you explained, completely nervous, because you didn't want him to regret it.

You walked up to face him and the height difference forced Kaz to look down at you with doe eyes you never imagined he could have and didn't even know he was aware of. He felt slightly intimidated, more by the situation itself than by you, and one of his hands went directly to hold the wood of the chair to try to calm down.

You took a deep breath and looked closely at the black-haired man's face, thinking about which part of his face would be more suitable for kissing; the skin on his cheeks? His forehead? Or go once and for all for those thin pink lips?

When you crouched down he held his breath and you saw him tense when you got closer to his face, but you still continued because you knew he would mark the limit, if there was one. You closed your eyes and finally closed the distance, pressing your lips against his for just a second. Your stomach turned and when you straightened up your cheeks were flushed crimson, but it worried you that Kaz hadn't flinched. You would even say that he seemed to be angry.

"Give me a proper kiss"

You felt your legs shake and you thought you were going to faint right there after hearing him. He wasn't even asking, he was demanding it. Kaz was practically yelling at you that he was going to settle for the simple lip brush you just gave him, he wanted more.

You were a mess at the thought of him wanting to take such a big step, but you tried your best to hold it back and nodded softly at him. A proper kiss would require more than just you standing in front of him, so you sat on Kaz’s lap, who nearly squealed in surprise.

"If you want to stop, just say so" you warned him. But you had already gone too far, he didn't want to stop and of course you didn't either.

Your feet dangled over the side of the chair and you made yourself more comfortable resting your hands on his clothed shoulders, hoping that with that separation of cloth Kaz would feel less uncomfortable, until your face was right in front of his.

There was so much fear in his eyes that you wanted to walk away, but you knew that with that you would spoil all the effort he was making and you feared that he would be offended to the point of not wanting to kiss you anymore.

You would be lying when you said that you didn’t want it, that you didn’t long for to finally be able to know what his kisses would taste like and thus be able to alleviate the knot in your stomach that you had since that party night when you confessed your love, so without more or less you leaned a little and then you kissed him.

At first it was a mere assumption, but when you felt how tense he was you knew that he had never kissed anyone in his life. You could feel his panic through the trembling sighs that escaped him, but you didn't give up for a second from your task.

"Relax your lips" you said, separating yourself enough centimeters to be able to articulate the words "And the shoulders too" you continued, stroking that section with both hands to help it a little "Just focus on how it feels"

Your whispers sounded like spells to him as if they were instructions to follow to achieve the happiness he so wanted and didn't know how to obtain.

You tried again and since he followed your advice the contact was more fluid. Suddenly all negative feelings were replaced by the pleasure of savoring your lips, still with the flavor of the impregnated chocolate, and of feeling your warm body so close to his. There were no traumatic memories because he had never kissed anyone before Jordie’s death, nor since. It was something new, different, and it was also unique because it was you who was there.

He began to pay more attention to details and enjoyed the way your lips caught one of his, so subtly that he could barely identify it, or how your hands had already gone up to his neck to hold it. Kaz’s gloved hands moved almost by themselves to your waist and it was your turn to hold your breath, probably under the impression that he had done something like that.

You cut off the kiss, but then another followed, and when that one ended another came. Suddenly everyone was down to you and Kaz having a little make-out session in his office, a moment he never wanted to end. Maybe it was the sensation of trying something forbidden, but you felt that the man's kisses had the most intoxicating flavor on the entire planet, as if everything you had ever enjoyed was nothing compared to that. And he couldn't do anything more than practically melt under your caresses and let you do whatever you wanted with him.

For some reason Kaz was finally overwhelmed by the contact, but instead of throwing you out of there he pulled you away with his grip on your waist, calm and gentle.

"It’s enough" he whispered. It wasn't because he wasn't enjoying it, but because he knew better than anyone that you couldn't give yourself completely to life’s pleasures or they would end up consuming you from the roots.

He didn't want to open his eyes for fear that it was all another one of those dreams and also to somehow extend the sensation as much as possible, but you didn't want to do anything but look at him. He was breathing heavily and the usual paleness of his skin had been replaced by a vermilion hue and to your surprise his hands hadn't left the position they were in, which you took as a sign that he still wanted you sitting on his legs.

“Are… are you okay?” you asked cautiously, knowing that closed eyes and heavy breathing were also symptoms of a panic attack that you definitely didn't want to happen.

"No” you barely had time to worry and think about what you could do before you heard a soft laugh. Kaz Brekker was laughing “Oh my gosh of course I'm not okay. You're driving me completely crazy” he responded and managed to make the phrase sound like a claim and a compliment at the same time.

"Was it that bad?"

"It was perfect. You are” he confessed and you exhaled a nervous laugh, feeling as foolish as a girl in love. Both of your hands were planted on his chest, so you started to play with a button on his shirt to try to calm your emotions.

“I'm glad you… huh, that we could share this. I really wanted to kiss you” you dared to tell him.

Although he was apparently calm, the truth was that he was having a hard time not separating from you, but the only reason he hadn't was because of the loving and happy expression that was on your face, which probably, to a lesser extent, he also had.

"Me too" he assured you, with that little smile you had already begun to love.

And that kiss represented the beginning of a path that Kaz was willing to walk, as difficult as it was, only for the promise that at the end of the day it would all be worth it if you were the one waiting for him.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #the crows #six of crows #jesper fahey #inej gafha #wylan van eck #nina zenik #mathias helvar #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine

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mitsvriii · 2 months ago

Text

JEKYLL AND HIDE

summary: when your boyfriend starts acting oddly, you believe that something may be wrong with him. only to find out that the "oddness" came from a product of something else entirely...

cw: mentions of blood, brief mentions of death, odd(?) pacing, semi-rushed ending, not proofread well, possible ooc (first time writing) | wc: 2.1k | taglist: @tetrachrxmacy, @aphrodict, @akutasoda

for the @/stellaronhvnters stellaween fest! the prompt i chose was doppelgänger

“yingxing?” whispering into the night, the shadow of your lover creeping from the doorway. if not for the moonlight making shadows around the outline of his hair, you would’ve thought it was someone else completely. “yingxing what are you doing up? it’s late.”

“...i’m sorry. i had a nightmare.” yingxing stalked over to the bed to sit on the edge, turning his head to scrutinize you, “woke up thirsty.” with a simple glance at your tired expression, he pursed his lips, “you should be asleep.”

“couldn’t sleep, bed got cold.” yingxing hummed in response, sliding in beside you rigidly. dipping into the mattress, you felt his investigative peer at your form; however, he didn’t comment anything else before turning on his side. frowning at the lack of affection you reached a hand out to run through his hair, an inexplicable habit.

the bed was still cold even after he had gotten back in it.

—

“are you hungry?” pressing a chaste kiss to a pallid cheek, you slid over a plate of freshly cut strawberries and cherries - which you couldn’t tell were unripened - while squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “i’m still making pancakes, but here’s something sweet to tie you over until then, okay?”

yingxing looked disinterested in your words, hand hovering over the strawberry slices before quickly plucking up a cherry. without a second thought he popped the entire thing in his mouth, swallowing it without even blinking.

oh, okay.

with an awkward pat to his shoulder, you returned to tend to the other food. yinxing was quiet the entire morning, oddly enough. going without giving you morning forehead kisses, not offering to fix dinner like he normally does, hell, he didn’t even spare you a glance when you screamed the other day because a small pool of hair dye looked like blood.

speaking of hair dye…

when the hell did yingxing decide to dye his hair?

it wasn’t as white as it used to be. now sporting a more grey hue, the roots borderning black instead of an ashen. and to make matters worse, the sight of the spot of not-blood in the bathroom looks like he had done it sporadically. it was odd, having to take on the product of an inattentive change between the both of you. you barely existed to him anymore, only being spoken to if he needed reminders of your outings or activities together.

you didn’t want to ask. in fact, you were honestly nervous to. if he switched personalities overnight just a week ago, there’s no solid idea of how he would react if you questioned that. perhaps you should just keep your mouth shut instead of bringing it over breakfast. it would be better for both of you.

but, alas, sometimes you cannot keep things in if they’re already about to burst at the seams.

the absolute second that the question of “are you okay?” left your mouth, it was as if the old yingxing had returned. long gone was the robotic man that had been walking aimlessly around your house for the past month. the tenderness in his voice filling to the brim again, his cold hands squeezing yours and providing just enough warmth that for a second, you’d believe that maybe the observations you’d made were just a figment of your imagination.

for a second, though.

as soon as his eyes met yours, there was a different aura within the air. his smile was more forced as his eyes crinkled around the edges just enough to tell you that you needed to let it go. it was nothing but a one-time thing, even though you knew it wasn’t. his attitude was a product of stress brought from a nightmare, which was odd because when he normally has them he doesn’t comment on them so as to not stress you out. the weird movements were apart of cramping his hand from hitting it on one of his projects in his office; a product of “an accident”, even though he hadn’t been in it in days as to have a break.

but it was okay, he was okay, you were okay; everything was okay.

night took over the sky quicker that day. the quiet doing nothing more than fueling your nervousness as yingxing slept beside you, an arm around your waist as his mouth parted open, breathing softly.

yingxing never wrapped his arm around your waist. it was always both of his arms, never just one.

in fact, it was the warmth brought on by his embraces that often made you feel as if a warm blanket was draped over your shoulders. kissing your temples as you cooked, swaying back and forth with his arms around your waist as you both danced silently, hums of affection as his hands guided yours when you helped him build his sketched creations. you missed the warmth that he brung, now stuck to withstand the cold.

yingxing seemed to notice the distance growing between both of you, trying to substitute his thin paper for wooden flecks to keep the fire aflame. straying to edges, spurned kisses pressed to cheeks, unwanted touches of so-called affection being something to look forward to everyday.

wonderful, really.

it was still worrying, as if you were living with an entirely different person.

the more you thought about it, the more you felt uneasy. you knew it was stupid to assume anything was actually okay at this point, but you had a guy in your house that wasn’t even your partner; at least as far as you could tell.

yingxing didn’t have this super, secret evil twin as much as you knew about him. but the idea of somebody secretly taking his place, or even the pipeline of scenarios in your head of someone wearing his skin…

it scared you.

getting up as carefully as you could, you crept to the bathroom. opening and closing the door - cursing under your breath when it creaked - you flipped on the light near the sink, staring at where you had seen the blood hair dye. the spot on the tile floor was clean, but you could still envision it perfectly.

it was hair dye. it was hair dye.

nothing else, nothing more.

it was the knock on the bathroom door that made your heart stop.

“babe?” yingxing never called you babe, it was always sweetheart, “are you okay?”

“just had to use the bathroom.” the lie was shaky. by the way he went quiet, you’re sure he knew it, too. “don’t worry about it, i’ll be back.” why the hell was he following you around like a lost kitten? the one time he decides to actually check up on you is the worst, what a shocker.

“oh. do you need my help?”

swear.

“what?”

a pause.

“i’m sorry, that was odd of me to say.” oh, you think?

the silence was laughable, honestly. one person two people who didn’t even know how to properly communicate with another each other. clearing your voice, you cracked open the door to peek at him.

jeez, his eyes.

it was as if a darkened glass orb was crushed and shifted into two circular shapes. a kaleidoscope of mixed emotions all scattered into one. the darkened colors of maroon twisting with blues of dark greens, his pupils nothing but ink blotches on the canvas. stray bristles mixed within the irises to give them a highlighted countenance. alas, its his eyes were the only thing worth much note on his face. they even appeared as a cheap replica of that belonging to an oil painting.

“i’m sorry.”

the echoed words rung throughout your head, as if they were a church bell and you were the quiet nave. you hated how you cracked the door back open on pure impulse, the tone in his voice drawing you in to comfort him by pure memory. he sounded sad. you hated when yingxing was sad.

but this wasn’t yingxing, remember?

“why?” asking quietly, the door creaked again as it was stopped by his foot.

yingxing stepped back, as if to give you enough space to squeeze back into the bedroom, “for being distant. for not being myself recently.”

funny timing for an apology, huh.

“that’s okay.” universe, you hope he couldn’t tell your smile wasn’t as forced as it was within the darkness. “you had that nightmare, remember?” grabbing his hand in yours, you tried not to flinch at the sheer chill that shot up through your body once you grabbed it. “not your fault.”

whoever wrote your part in this script was at risk of getting their neck wrung. why couldn’t you be the possible-but-almost-certain imposter? it would’ve been easier than playing the naive rat that wasn’t aware of the rat looming on the kitchen counter.

yingxing didn’t say anything, allowing you to lead him back to the bed. “we can just worry about this all tomorrow, okay? it’s late. we can walk to the café and get coffee like we do every monday morning.” you froze when yingxing stopped, the backs of your knees hitting the bed’s corner. “yingxing?”

those eyes bore into you as he moved his hand out of your grasp, staring at you. the clouds hide away the moon from the sight, leaving you squinting to make out his silhouette. a hoarse right was mumbled under his breath as he slid onto the side of his bed; the movement not as stiff as it was yesterday. you followed suit, doing your utmost not to shake as you pulled the duvet further up your body.

you and yingxing went out on wednesdays for coffee, not mondays.

—

the universe had decided that you deserved a break, so when you woke up to the sound of heavy rain on your windows, you nearly jumped for joy. at least now you wouldn’t have to deal with the onslaught of questions from the barista about why you and yinxing were two days earlier than normal, and you wouldn’t have to stomach the latter’s stares.

but on the downside, you were now stuck with a yinxing you weren’t even positive was yingxing. perhaps your previous doubts were factual. this wasn’t your boyfriend and you’ve been living with something someone completely random.

oh god…you let him sleep in your bed. even if you weren’t aware, the point still stands.

“are you okay?”

its his voice pulled you up and over the wave that nearly drowned you in your thoughts, the saccharine tone making your teeth ache. how could it pretend that nothing was wrong? was it simply emotionless?

or had it not had enough human experience to learn how to produce them?

“fine”, you choked out, wincing as the sting of the seasoning on your takeout hit the back of your throat. “sorry, the food's just a bit spicy.” yingxing seemed to take the response in a positive light, or positive as in not questioning your response.

and more silence. great.

it had become unnerving, not welcoming. as much as you’d not like to listen to not-yingxing's voice grating your ears like nails on a chalkboard. a grater with a sharp blade – oh.

blade. not-yingxing shall be dubbed blade.

but if you were to pull it out of your side, you’re sure that you’d only bleed out. left in your own misery of not letting everything try to stick back together like glue. lifting your head to look at blade, you noticed that he was staring at you. was he a mind reader as well? just your luck, something to dig into your thoughts and expose them in front of yourself.

“would you like to see him?”

a pause.

the air seemed to get thicker as your utensils almost slipped out of your hand. rearranged your grip, you swallowed; the salvia hitting your dry throat and going down harshly. “i’m sorry?”

“i asked you if you’d like to see him.” blade tilted his head at you, questioningly. “surely you do not believe that i’ve not read you?”

you felt your stomach twist in disgusting ways when blade stood up, eyes still on you as he moved to the doorway. “come with me.” fading, fading, fading down the hall and into yingxing’s office.

the office that hadn’t been occupied since blade appeared.

scrambling up from the table you brushed past blade, whose footsteps stopped, and you swore you heard a chuckle bubbling out of his throat. shaking as you reached for the door handle, you closed your eyes and twisted the knob. opening to gaze within the room, you felt your blood run cold in your body.

and you screamed.

#stwf : pumpkin patch!#📷 - photos #hsr x reader #hsr x you #yingxing x reader #yingxing x you #blade x reader #blade x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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daydreaming-in-letters · 6 months ago

Text

Against the wall

05/24/2024

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,917

Warnings: rpf, alcohol, pining, naughty thoughts, fluff

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a room full of people to figure out you want nothing more than to be alone with that one person.

A/N: Guys, this was written in a fevered frenzy. Haven't felt the muse in months and don't know whether she did a good job, but I am so happy she is not dead.

Picture is a screen cap from this video

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

If you enjoy my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

She had forgotten how much she loathed being in a room full of people. Maybe it was a condition that came with age, to appreciate silence and solitude, or maybe, just maybe, it was entirely his fault.

Her back leaning against the wall, his hand was splayed out right next to her head, supporting the weight of his body as he leant in slightly so he could focus on her voice above the noise of the bustling room. He had never been this close to her, so close she could smell the intoxication scent of his body, and in an instant the chatter was drowned out by the wild drum of her heart, which in turn made it one of the most challenging tasks she had ever had to face to string her words together into meaningful sentences.

But it seemed she had somehow succeeded, against all odds, as he turned his head to look at her, his face so close now that she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. And as if that had not been enough to clear every coherent thought from her head, he chose to turn his lips up into the most dazzling smile upon her silly joke.

It made her dizzy, combined with the sparkle in his eyes it was an almost deadly combination, impossible to resist. It had captured her completely. He had captured her completely, occupied her every thought in a way that was bordering on concerning, for her sanity, maybe even for the idea of feminism she lived by, but even more so for the very essence of her existence.

She had seen it all so clearly, a happy future, no one to bother her, especially no man to cause her even more worries than she already had. Just her, the path in front of her clearly mapped out. And then he had crossed her way, and it had dawned on her that what she had deemed the perfect life would seem like nothing but a cheap substitute next to a life with him. Certainly, she could still be happy without him—if she needed to.

The problem was, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to live a life without the sound of his laughter, without his twisted sense of humour and the way he looked at her when they were engaged in a conversation, as if there was no one else in this world, as if it was only him and her. He made her feel secure in a way no one ever had. When he entered the room, she could feel her shoulders relax, her breath going more easily and the galloping of her heart slowing in pace. And when she talked to him, it was as if she had never done anything else in her entire life. There was nothing of the usual unease or urge to appeal between them that might, under different circumstances or with a different man, lead her to a point at which she had either moulded herself into a completely different person or where everything meaningful she had wanted to say and that had been phrased so clearly in her head became lost somewhere on the way from her brain to her mouth. With him though, she could just be herself, safe in the knowledge that he would not judge or tire of her at some point.

If only she knew with the same certainty if he felt the same. Obviously he did enjoy talking to her as well, or he wouldn’t be standing here right now, choosing to talk to her when he had a room full of people to choose from. But did he also hang on her lips like she did on his? Did he also wonder if they were just as soft as he imagined them to be? And would he like her to step closer, or pull him closer to her instead? And when her hand rested against his chest then, would she feel the same thunderous beat that drummed behind her own ribs? Would it start to flutter as soon as their lips met and refuse to fall back into its regular rhythm until their bodies lay sweaty and spent, their desire finally sated? And in their blissed out state, would he hold her? Would he pull her that impossible inch closer and press the softest of kisses to her forehead, telling her all she needed to know without uttering a single word? Would he still be there in the morning to see her tousled hair and sleep-wrinkled face and look at her with the same affection she thought to find in his gaze right now? Would he—

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” His back still turned on the intruder, he gave her the most dramatic roll of his eyes she had ever seen, making it very hard for her to hide a snicker. “Come, there is someone I need you to meet.”

She wanted to protest, wanted to do whatever it took to keep him close, but before her brain had even been able to form a protest, he was being dragged away from her, his lips forming a silent apology.

This social engagement was tedious. The thought came as somewhat of a surprise to him. There had been a time when he had truly enjoyed this kind of event, but tonight something just was not right about this party. Well, not ‘something’ as in an unknown factor that made this party different from other parties. It was not unknown to him at all. In fact, this evening had been perfectly enjoyable up until that moment he had been so rudely separated from her.

She was still leaning casually against that wall, the only difference being that he was too far away from her now. To be fair, any distance that exceeded an arm’s length was too far for his taste. She on the other hand did not seem to mind his absence much, as someone else had already taken his place by her side to engage her in what appeared to be a most entertaining conversation. Not one glance did she spare him, while all he could focus on was the ludicrous attempt to will himself back into his old position, close to her. So close that her breath would waft across his neck again as she spoke, the heat of her body crawling over his skin. Maybe her hand would find him by accident—or intentionally, which would be all the better. After a moment he would return the favour, finally giving in to his longing to feel the smoothness of her skin against his fingertips.

Instead all he could feel was his mouth opening as she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of champagne. Would he be able to taste it on her tongue if she allowed him to kiss her? He almost hoped he would not be, because what he really desired to taste was her, the exquisite, singular flavour only she possessed.

And still, that would not nearly be enough to sate his hunger. He wanted to taste all of her. Her lips, her skin, the moist heat at the apex of her thighs. He wanted her so much he could feel his mouth drying up upon the ardor of his wish, no, need for her.

What would it be like to have her? He had imagined it a thousand times over and yet there were so many questions still left unanswered. Would she voice her pleasure or enjoy in silence? Was it her wish to be the director of their passion play or did she want him to lead the way? Would his name glide over her lips in a soft moan or would she scream in ecstasy when they had finally reached the peak? Would she stay serious, caught up in desire, all the way through or would there be giggles and laughter? And what then, after they had given themselves to each other completely? Would she leave, seeing this as an experience best enjoyed once only? Or would she stay, her naked body resting against his in peaceful slumber, and allow real intimacy to begin?

If it were his choice to make, he would know exactly what to choose. But he could not blame her if she opted for something different. Commitment was tough, and there had been times when he had thought that he, like so many others, was simply not built for it. But watching her now, he could not recall how he had ever been this blind about himself in the first place.

It had been strange at first, that sense of belonging that always befell him when she was around, completely unexpected. But ever since he had felt it for the first time and realised its true meaning, it was as if he had discovered a law of nature, complex and yet so easy to understand, as if it had always been an inherent part of him.

Once again, the dryness he had felt earlier returned to his mouth, more demanding this time, until it had managed to push every other thought aside for a moment. Instinctively he set the glass to his lips, his eyes not once leaving her until he had lifted the bottom high enough to block his view. It had only been for the blink of an eye, but now he found himself almost choking on his final gulp when his eyes returned to find her spot against the wall empty all of a sudden.

Leaving without a goodbye was childish, she knew, but she just could not shake this nagging feeling that had befallen her out of the blue, that being in the same room with him without talking to him or being able to at least be near him without looking as if she was running after him like a duckling was far worse than not being here at all.

With a sigh she set down the glass on an empty table she passed on her way to the exit. What a waste, as it was almost half-full, but somehow it did not taste quite right, and so she left the rest of her drink behind, like the dream that she would ever be to him what he was to her.

It was dark as she entered the hallway and the air felt uncomfortably cool in contrast to the air inside that had been heated by all those bodies. Their chatter was still following her now, echoing from the walls left and right.

It must have obscured the noise of his steps, or maybe they had not made any sound at all. Otherwise she would have recognised their rhythm from a mile away. But instead, she only realised that he was there as his warm hand closed around her wrist and gently brought her to a stop. And despite the fact that she had halted her steps almost instantly, she had not expected him to be this close now as she turned, so close that she could see the startled expression of her eyes reflected in his own. So dark, so green.

He did not utter a single word. He did not have to. She knew when his grip on her loosened and his fingers softly glided between hers. She smiled, and so did he. And then, slowly, they began to walk.

taglist:

@rosecentury

@lowkeysimpinloki

@fightmespideyboy

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier rpf #against the wall

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callahanisms · 6 months ago

Text

body talk

seeing challengers was a mistake guys because all i can think about is challengers and how much i love challengers and how cinema is back after people declared the death of cinema like three years ago and how much i wanna go see challengers again—

anyways uhhhh did challengers make me hop onto the mike faist train? yes. because i love a man that clearly worships his wife and kisses boys.

character: art donaldson

for vibes: "physical" by olivia newton-john

context: stanford university. 2007.

if you had a choice, you wouldn't be working as a receptionist in the gym. instead, you'd work in the infirmary. it was more in line with your desire to pursue sports medicine.

your father himself was an athlete who sustained a career ending injury and went into sports medicine. you wanted to follow in his footsteps.

but for now, you were working as a receptionist at the gym for your federal work study. college wasn't going to pay for itself unfortunately and your parents could only provide so much support.

art donaldson recognized you while you guys were at a party. "you're the person at the desk in the gym!" he sounded so excited. almost like a puppy.

"yeah..." you look down at your red solo cup. "you're like a regular. with tashi duncan."

"you know her?"

"well, i've talked to her a few times. she's great." who wouldn't like her honestly? you weren't the biggest fan of tennis but whenever tashi duncan played, she always managed to make it magical.

"you're also in my bio class, right?"

"you're in my bio class?"

"oh don't tell me you didn't notice."

you shrug. "i didn't. you're not very...noticeable, i guess."

art took personal offense to that statement.

okay not entirely. because to some extent, you were right. he wasn't as noticeable as some of the other people in class, like the lacrosse player on the guys team or the girl from the basketball team, both of whom you seem to be close with.

growing closer to art was just a matter of being in a lot of classes together, something you didn't realize during the first month of college.

to be fair, it was a lot.

but the good thing about having a lot of classes with him was that it meant you always had a go to person for group projects. and god were professors adamant about assigning group work.

at the very least, you had a workout buddy when you guys were free. sometimes, you were even joined by tashi duncan. so it was cool to be able to work out with a famous tennis player.

perhaps the gym is where you started to notice art's...physicality.

he wasn't entirely imposing, aside from being quite tall. but he had a surprising amount of muscle. perhaps the tank tops he wore didn't help much. it left little to the imagination.

because of your familiarity with the body and your desire to go into sports medicine, art called you when he was feeling a bit sore.

he opens the door with a smile, seeing you with your bag and clementines. "what's the fruit for?"

"just in case you get hungry." you step in and remove your shoes. "just lay down."

"bed or floor?"

"whichever you prefer. the bed might be more comfy. we'd have to move stuff around if you were on the floor. oh and take off your shirt."

"what?" he could feel his cheeks beginning to heat up.

"take off your shirt. a massage won't be that effective with your shirt on."

"alright. umm..." art just does what you ask of him, taking his shirt off and setting it aside on his desk chair. he gets on the bed and lays down, front side down.

you pull out a bottle of lotion and crawl onto the bed, straddling him at his waist. you are unaware of how red he is feeling you against him.

you feel around his back for bit, asking him where in particular is tight. once you got a good idea, you squirt some lotion onto your hands, rub it a bit, then begin to massage.

art would be embarrassed from the sounds that came out of him. but he was craving for the relief from his overworked and tired muscles. he could feel just how deep your hands went in, twisting and rubbing. your hands felt so good. they glided smoothly and your touch soothed him greatly.

"damn dude. when was the last time you massaged yourself?"

"don't know." he mutters, burying his lower face into his own pillow. he could feel himself growing warmer all over his body.

your palm pressing into him, dragging itself through his muscles, rubbing baby lotion into his skin so he's soft.

your hand reaches a part of his lower back, your palm rubbing through the muscle. and he moans.

you stop for a moment. "something wrong?"

"no...nothing's wrong..." he mutters.

"you sure?"

"yes. keep going."

he enjoys the way your hands move lower, and lower. he wants them to sneak to the front. massage him a different way.

your hands linger on a particular spot of his back though, feeling the defined muscle. there's something particularly...satisfying, about running your hands over his body. you were tempted to feel more. especially his arms.

art's arms were utterly gorgeous, as if sculpted out of marble by a renaissance artist themselves.

"i think you're all good."

"all done already?" he smelled like baby lotion. whatever that mean.

"unless you want me to massage elsewhere." you get off of him and he turns on his side to look at you.

the tank top you were wearing was a little bit tight.

art gently grabs your wrist. "magical hands you know."

"it's beneficial to learn how to massage. for your own betterment and health. though i will happily help you with the spots you can't reach."

he rubs circles into your wrists. "are they tired?"

"a little. it was because i took an exam yesterday. writing in those blue booklets is absolute torture."

"that's fair." his eyes flicker up to yours. the room was warm, the atmosphere right. "do you...like my body?"

"it's nice. you're very beautiful." you smile.

art pulls you forward, your legs hitting the wooden bedframe of the shitty college provided furniture.

"do you want to feel it?"

you bite your lip. "i think i do."

#gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader #x reader #challengers #challengers 2024 #challengers fic #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader

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praisethegabs · 1 year ago

Text

HOT

pairing: leon kennedy x reader synopsis: you and leon decide to drink in a bar once the guy you both investigate doesn't show up. the thing is, he's really hot and attractive and gets all the attention. the problem? well, leon doesn't like it when you flirt with someone else. warnings: pure smut, p in v, rough sex, leon being very jealousy and kinky. MINORS DNI! author's note: I wrote this one with id!leon because it fits better, vaguely based on hot by avril lavigne because it came first in my mind when i read the request. whoever you are, anon, i hope you enjoy it! word count: 3060k

The entire bar was having fun.

All the people inside it were busy minding their own lives, drinking with their friends, their loved ones or just drinking alone, enjoying their own company. This bar, in particular, had some red neon lights inside, live music, and a nice decoration. Despite all the happiness and the music around and the loud conversations, two people weren’t there just for fun, just to enjoy a casual Friday night.

Sitting next to you, there was the most handsome man you ever knew. And the sexiest one, too. The name of this beauty? Leon Scott Kennedy.

You and Leon were partners for a long time. He even trained you personally. Some people used to say you both have a lot of chemistry together, and sometimes, they even think he’s your boyfriend — once you hear someone say they thought Leon was your husband. Unfortunately, you are just his close friend, which you hate entirely because God knows how many times you desired this man, even dreamed about him fucking you at his desk at the agency. So, playing with masks, he’s just your friend.

But, to be honest, you aren’t behind him when the subject is beauty.

You’re used to having people eating you with their eyes like you’re some kind of meat. In terms of beauty, everyone says you look beautiful as well as Leon is, that’s why everybody says you both look like a couple from a Hollywood film, which is very funny, because everyone sees it, except for him. The other funny thing is that Leon is so awkward around people that it’s cute because only you know how uncomfortable he might get when it comes to talking to another woman.

But why the hell aren’t you guys enjoying this Friday night like everyone else inside the bar?

The answer is very simple. Because you two aren’t just normal people. You both were there for a job, and apparently, the person you guys are investigating decided not to show up and, apparently, too, frustrate your plans. You have both been working for months, and this was the perfect opportunity to finally get to him. You were stressed, tired, and angry, and your face wasn’t very friendly at the moment.

“I think we should enjoy the night. We already know that asshole won’t show up” you hear Leon say, his voice very smooth and sexy, just like him.

“We’re working,” you said to him, very annoyed, your fingernails tapping the table with rage, a clear sign of yours that you were very angry at the moment.

“Not anymore. He didn’t come, and we have all night. We can start working at seven tomorrow morning” Leon teases you, that smirk on his lips that in a daily basis makes you go feral, but not at the moment.

“I’m not compromising my mission just because you want to get drunk, Kennedy” Your voice sounds sharper than your intention, but he didn’t seem to care about your annoyance. He knows you.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Don’t be a pain in my ass, I’m gently asking you to join me on this lovely Friday night and have fun with me” Leon smirks again, his devilish smile that makes you feel things you don’t want to. The same smile that locks your eyes on his lips and makes you imagine very naughty things.

“One drink only” you sighed to him, rolling your eyes. He smiles victoriously and decides to order two drinks for you guys. After he ordered your beverage, he just leaned comfortably on the chair and smirked at you again, one hand in his lap and the other on the table. “What now?”

“You look deadly beautiful when you’re angry like this” he teases you. You roll your eyes again, which makes him smile more. He knows how to push you to your limits. He knows how to leave you on the edge. "It's very sexy, y'know?"

Before you say anything, the waiter finally delivered your drinks, which you take one shot, feeling the taste in your throat, squeezing your eyes immediately.

"Yeah, I know," you said to him, avoiding his gaze. For some reason, you are very uncomfortable, and Leon probably knows it because he's responsible for making you feel this way.

Looking around, you can notice how everyone in the bar seems to be instantly attracted by him, which makes you feel very angry. You start to think what the hell all these people think they are? Leon is your partner. He's with you, not with them, right? They don't need to put their eyes on him, because Leon belongs to you and you only.

But then, you have to remind yourself that he's just your friend. He's nothing more than this, and you'll have to accept that. If he decides to be with someone else that isn't you, well, you won't be able to change that. You look at him again, drinking another shot from the alcohol inside your glass, his eyes shining strangely at you, like he's planning something. And let's be honest here, you hate how unpredictable he can be sometimes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask him, still noticing how people around were looking at him. This time, you were starting to get angry again. Not even all the alcohol in the world would change that.

"Like what, sweetheart?" Leon smirks one more time, still teasing you, like he always does. You were starting to swear to God you would kill him.

"Like you want something," your eyes lock on his, and you wished you could burn him for looking at you that way.

"Maybe I do want something from you" he said very slowly, leaning closer to your face as he speaks, and in response, you do the same, feeling the smell of his cologne penetrate your nose and making your body shiver.

And when he noticed that, he just smiled largely, like this is a game you both were playing to see who can go insane first and to see how it would end. Sure, you both have been doing this for a very long time, but something says to you that this time, things will end differently than usual, and, honestly, you want to see it. You want to see you both burning with pleasure, moaning to each other like like there's no tomorrow.

But then, you noticed again how people were looking at him and this time, you decide to end this once and for all. Besides, it's Friday, and you can get drunk and do whatever you want without even care about the consequences. So, with full determination, you take another shot from your drink, squeeze your eyes and decides to end all this jealous you're feeling. He's just your slutty handsome partner and friend. Nothing more.

"I think it's funny how everyone here seems to be eating you alive." you look at him, your expression a little bit serious, but very provocative. He wants to play with you, but you'll be the one to throw the cards.

Leon smirks again, but he doesn't need to look around to know what you're talking about. He knows everyone is looking at him, and he certainly knows why they can't get their eyes off of him. Plus, he knows the effect that it has on you and how much you hate seeing him receiving so much attention.

"Just ignore it, sweetheart. You know I only have eyes for you, " he smirks again, playful. You know what he's trying to do, and just to play along, you removed your high heels, then reach his leg with your feet under the table, slowly going up on him until you reach his cock, which makes him blush.

"Oh, honey, you weren't expecting that, do you?" You ask him very smoothly and sensual, smiling very teasingly, like he was doing to you. "Do you think you're the only one around who's gonna receive attention?"

Saying that, you put your high heels on again then you get up, finish your drink, and go to dance alone on the dance floor. Your red and tight dress shines with all the lights around the place as you dance with different persons. There's a guy holding your waist as he pulls you closer to him, and in the middle of all this, your eyes find Leon as he watches you with a surprised look. You know exactly how to provoke him, and you know it's working. His expression slowly starts to change, and he stands up, going straight a blonde woman next to him.

You can say he's flirting with her. He's smiling and whispering closer to her ear, which makes your entire body go feral, as she seems to be enjoying this piece of God's work of art all by herself. And, for some other unknown reason you can't explain, you decide to make him pay double for it. Walking straight to him in a sensual way, you sat on his lap, your arms around his neck.

"Oh, darling, I found you! I was looking for you everywhere!" you said to him, with a devilish smile on your lips, your dress so tight that you can feel him getting bigger inside his pants. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. My husband loves to talk with other people when I'm not around. He's very beautiful, don't you think?" you said to the girl, which made her entire face blush.

"What the hell are you doing?" You feel Leon hold your waist very tight, his grip getting more intense, which made you smile even more.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm not the jealous type, I'd love to meet your new friend," you wink at him, as the girl excuses herself before she leaves you both alone. Leon looks at you like he's about to end your life right here and right now, and this makes you smile even more.

"Why are you behaving like that?" He asks you very annoyed, his voice sharper, as you stand up again, adjusting your dress, still smiling very devilish.

"Because we're in public, I know I'm very hot and attractive, and because... sweetheart... it's not just you who's receiving attention" you said closer to his ear, biting his earlobe to make him go insane.

"Do you want attention, honey?" Leon stands up, getting closer to you, as you feel his breath on your face. Instantly, your heart starts to beat faster inside your chest. "Then I'll give you full attention"

Saying that, Leon drives you back to the hotel where you both were staying, pretending to be a happy married couple in a nice honeymoon. Once you reach your room, Leon drops you on your bed without gentleness, he took off your dress without asking permission, throwing it away, then he removed his belt, using it to tie your hands on the bed. Now you were naked, tied and your pussy were all wet.

"Oh you have no idea how much I wanted to do this with you" he said, his hands circling your nipples as he sees you twitching for him. "Such a desperate slut for me, huh? You're so wet and I haven't done anything... yet"

You were opening your mouth to say something, but instead, he shut you with his hand, forcing you to keep quiet, as his other hand finally reaches your wet pussy, circling your clit slowly, making you suffer.

"I'm gonna make you pay for dancing with that man, for letting him touch you" he says, circling your clit slowly, as you start to moan, your mouth muffled by his hand. "And I'm gonna make you scream my name"

You were so screwed and you knew that. You knew Leon was a kinky son of a bitch, and you knew he was going to make you beg to let you cum. You knew he was going to deny every orgasm of yours. You pushed him to his edge and now you were going to pay the price for it.

"Look at you... such a beautiful slut. So wet for me..." he says, before he starts to lick your nipple, still using his free hand to muffle you. "This is what you get when you misbehave"

Your pussy was starting to ache, your body desperate for his touch, to feel his cock inside you, to cum all over him. You were so desperate for him, you wanted to beg, you wanted to feel him. But he needed to teach you a lesson first.

"Spread this legs for me" he orders, his fingers now inside you as you obey his command, spreading your legs. "Such a obedient slave... maybe I should reward you. Stay still"

He then returned with ropes, using them to tie your legs, to make sure you wouldn't move again or close them. Now you were twitching your body, you couldn't handle this pleasure anymore, you wanted so badly to cum, you wanted so badly to feel him inside, to eat you like a dessert. Jesus, you wanted so badly to be fucked by him.

"Please Leon... I'll behave, I promise" you said to him, your body twitching as you feel your pussy aching with excitement, you could feel yourself all wet.

"You had your chance, sweetheart" he said, crawling over you, his tongue licking your clit, making you moan louder with his touch, as he holds your legs against his face, not letting you move.

"O-oh G-God..." you moan louder again, your body twitching more with his tongue licking you with intensity. You could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm and, unfortunately, he knew that too, which why he stopped, a mischievous smile on his lips as he licks it, feeling yourself.

"You'll have your orgasm when I say so" he said, unzipping his pants. He removed his belt from your hands, then he pulls your closer. "Get on all fours for me"

You turned around, but the ropes on your ankles made it difficult at first. Then, he stayed right in front of you, pushing your hair to make sure you were looking straight at him.

"Open this pretty mouth of yours for me" he ordered and you did so. He then puts his cock inside your mouth, making you suck him so deeper that your eyes were tearing up. "Didn't you wanted to taste me?"

You nod, still sucking his cock deeper in your throat. You were so wet, your pussy were aching more as he fucks your mouth, and moans louder. He removes himself off of you, using his finger to make you suck it for him.

"Beg for me" he says, making you suck his finger as he starts to masturbate himself, watching you suck his finger like a slut.

"Please, Leon... let me have your cock, please" you beg to him, your eyes locked on his, as you kept sucking his finger. He smiles, masturbating himself and moaning, denying the only thing you want so badly.

Leon stops touching himself and then goes behind you, his dick entering your pussy without gentleness, his hips against yours with violence as you hold tight the sheets and moans louder. Your pussy were aching with him fucking you hard and deeper, pushing your hair tight, his hips reaching your ass harder.

"Good girl" he moans again, fucking you harder.

"I-I can't... I can't hold anymore" you moan to him, feeling your orgasm closer as he keeps fucking you harder and harder.

"Yes, you can. If you dare cum on me without my consent, you'll be punished" he says very serious to you, still going deeper and faster, not even caring to hold back.

You bite your lower lip, squeezing your eyes as you feel him getting faster and harder on you. It is so much pain mixed with pleasure that all you think about is scream his name, to beg for him to let you go. This feeling he was giving you was far more different than you ever could imagine. Sure, you imagined him banging you on his desk, on his bed, dinner table, even in his bathroom, but what he was doing to you... well, it was something else.

"S-shit" he moans louder, fucking you harder, as you feel him releasing his cum on your ass. But even after he had his orgasm, he wouldn't stop right now. "Someone's need to be pleased, don't you think?"

"Y-yes, please" you beg for him, catching your breath as you feel his fingers on you again, circling your clit, then another one fucking you.

"Too bad I don't have toys with me... you would be begging even more" he whispers closer to your ear as he keeps masturbating you. "Scream my name, sweetheart, I know that you want to"

"Leon, please" you beg him, your legs starting to tremble as you feel your orgasm getting closer for the third time after he denied the others.

"Scream my name" he orders, threatening to stop masturbating you, his fingers moving slowly.

"LEON, PLEASE!" you scream to him, which makes him smile and finally moving faster, until you finally had your orgasm. Your entire body started to tremble, your legs almost failing you as you moan louder, a warm feeling growing inside you.

"Good girl" he smiles satisfied, releasing your ankles from the ropes, then pulling you closer to cuddle with him. Your body were all sweaty and the feeling of his cock on your ass made your body shiver.

And then, he just kissed you, removing your sweaty hair off of your face, his strong arms involving you in a warm hug as his body warms yours in a perfect synchronization, like he was perfectly made for you, and you for him.

"Did it hurt?" He asks very gently to you, still holding you tight on his arms, his breath steady and slowly reaching your neck, making you shiver again.

"No. To be honest, I really enjoyed it" you smile at him, cuddling with his body, relaxing your tensed muscles. "It was better than I thought"

"I'm glad you enjoyed..." he says, letting you down on him, as he watches you very closely, his breath reaching your face. "Because next time you tease me like that, I won't have mercy on you"

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jsprnt · 5 months ago

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Americano PT. 16 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: hello loves!! I can’t believe we’ve already come to the end of this series😭 thank you guys so so much for all the love you’ve sent my work and efforts!! Love y’all so much, enjoy reading- and stay tuned for my future fics 🤍🩷

W/C: 4.025

part fifteen

I sigh for the millionth time today, leaning back against the backrest of my chair. I rub my wrists, massaging my fingers and knuckles, groaning in relief when I hear some of them pop.

There were only a handful of matches left in the league, along with the Champions League final. The entire PR and marketing department had been working overtime for a couple days now, wanting to end the season on a high note.

I was so tired and stressed out, internally debating whether to call in sick tomorrow, but there was no way the team could finish all of this without my help.

Since my role in the department has gotten much more important this season, I needed to attend more meetings and calls with a lot of different people.

Never in my life, had I exercised my social skills this much, and it was only a matter of time before my social battery ran so low that I couldn't take interacting with people anymore, without looking like a total jerk.

Though, the generous paycheck that dropped into my back account every month, motivated me to work harder, well, sometimes..

I shift from my position, grabbing a single pen from its holder. Looking back up to my laptop to write down some refreshing and creative questions for the upcoming, very important and widely viewed interviews.

Winning both the national league and the Champions League in the exact same season would be absolutely insane to witness.

I had experienced the feeling in my first season working at the club. After almost three years of getting to know the team and the players who had come and gone, this year would feel even more special.

I had grown closer to the club, not just as an employee but as a supporter as well. I had multiple personal and dear connections with the club.

My father had just renewed his contract with the club. A topic that everyone working for respective companies joked about was the possibility of the agreement not being renewed.

After all these years, both companies had become synonymous with each other.

I had also gotten closer to my colleagues, much closer than I would've ever imagined. Starting this job as an eighteen-year-old, I was incredibly intimidated by the sheer size of the operations behind the scenes.

Of course, juggling both working here and studying for my law degree was hard at first. Work in the morning had switched to the evening when attending the matches.

Study breaks consisting of trying to figure out what interview questions were rubbish and needed to be scrapped, and packing my little suitcase for another trip, only to overpack again.

Thankfully, I had gotten all of my results back from this school year, and I was absolutely over the moon knowing I'd be going for my next year of my degree after summer break.

All my hard work had finally paid off when I saw my grades, and I had celebrated it that night- with working…

The biggest change in my life?

That was the fact that I had actually found love.

Going from hating each other to loving each other was a weird feeling. Even so, Jude and I had been together for almost six months now, and honestly speaking; I had never felt so loved by anyone in the entire world before.

We supported each other wholeheartedly, and it was definitely easier to do than other couples.

Mostly, because we worked together.

Living together for the first few weeks of our relationship, definitely sped up the process of actually getting to know each other. It bonded us faster than I would’ve ever expected.

Looking back, it's difficult to even imagine a world where Jude never moved into my place..

Jude had moved out of my house in the middle of March. He had changed houses following everything that had happened the last few months.

The new house is quite far away from the old, temporary house he lived in, that got broken into. The home was spacious and modern, just like I'd expected before visiting for the first time.

My father and his partners at his firm, had finally built up a proper case to take the intruder to court. I didn't know the specifics because, for some reason I wasn’t allowed to, by both my own father and Jude.

I already knew that the man who had caused so much chaos wasn't getting off the hook easily, and that was enough for me. Knowing any more details about the situation, would probably cause me more stress and anxiety, so I had just learnt to let it go.

I couldn't even lie, lately I had spent more time at Jude’s place than my own. There was something so comforting about it, maybe it was how inviting and cozy it felt.

His friends from England and Germany would always be over, for the simplest of reasons.

Playing games, both board and video ones, watching new movies in the unnecessary, huge cinema room. It created a very fun and friendly atmosphere and made me feel more comfortable than ever.

Jude’s parent’s presence, especially his mother’s- was very much appreciated. I loved chatting to her, from the most mundane things, to the things that I was worried about.

Just like the other women in my life, she gave me guidance and encouragement to keep on going and be even better at anything I wanted to accomplish.

Obviously, there was no way we could keep on hiding our relationship from certain teammates Jude was very close with. We'd decided to be open with them, because keeping a 'secret' from them wouldn't exactly give us peace of mind in the long run.

Scratching what I've written down so far, I drop my pen onto the desk. Glancing up at the clock to check the time, and gasping softly when I remember I have a meeting that starts in a minute.

I quickly grab the necessary paperwork, and dash out of the office. Into the meeting room, already full of my coworkers, sat waiting only for me..

"Okay, I'm really confused. Do I have something on my face? Like sauce from lunch or something?" The puzzled y/n asks, turning around in her office chair, only to glance at the busy Lina.

"Uh.." The older woman begins, looking up from her monitor and shaking her head.

"Nope, no sauce. Why?" Lina takes her hand off the computer mouse, sighing before leaning back.

"Everyone has been looking at me, like since- this morning.." y/n rolls her chair forward, holding out her foot, to stop herself from violently slamming into Lina's desk.

"You think? I thought it was because your dress looked cute.."

Lina smirks at her own words, her hand reaching over to grab her purple water bottle, swiftly taking the top off and chugging a couple gulps.

y/n scoffs, glancing down at the dress she's wearing. Yes, of course the dress is cute, that's why she wore it today. But the stares she got were definitely not in appreciation of the cream-colored dress.

"Are you serious? I don't think-"

She's cut off by a loud knock. Both women break eye contact, looking up at the glass doors where someone is standing in front of.

"Jude?" y/n perks up, standing up from her chair and making a beeline towards him. Ignoring the unnecessarily loud and teasing whistle leaving Lina's mouth.

Stepping outside, she furrows her brows, looking around for anyone who could eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Follow me.." Jude can only say, immediately starting to walk down the stairs without sparing another second.

"What are you-" She trails off, sighing in defeat, before following him down, into one of the empty meditation rooms.

She looks at Jude as he locks the door behind them, his hand immediately reaching to wrap around her waist. He pulls her closer than ever, planting a kiss on her lips.

"Something wrong?" She asks, picking up on his stressed out demeanor. Pulling back, she scans his face once again.

"I have to show you something, but don't freak out, yeah? I called your dad already, and he said he'll see what he can do.."

This only sends her into a panic, his warning going over her head as she watches him pull his phone out of his pocket. Arms flexing underneath his training jacket as he moves.

She looks at him with a confused frown on her face, her eyes almost popping out of her head when Jude shows what was so important.

Grabbing the phone out of his hand without thinking, she brings the device closer to her face. A small noise of annoyance leaving her mouth.

It's all photos of the couple, outside during various times they had been on dates for the past- six months.

"This one's from Valencia, and this one's from that night in Mallorca?!" y/n exclaims, hands shaking as she tries to scroll through the other photos. All off guard pictures of them, taken while they were out together, after matches, and even on dates in Madrid.

Noticing how distressed the photos make his girlfriend, Jude grabs his phone out of her hand. Setting it down on the table next to him, he grabs onto her shoulders, making her look up at him.

"It's okay, we prepared for this, remember? I won't let my team put out a statement, apart from legal action. Your dad's handling it with my team, okay?" He brings her frazzled form into a reassuring hug, planting kisses on her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

Of course, just like her boyfriend explains- they knew their relationship couldn't be kept secret for much longer. Jude, being the high profile football player he is, couldn't exactly keep people from prying into his private life.

She knew that the media had caught a whiff of her, even back when they despised each other. The night at Wembley Stadium months ago, had caused a little commotion back then.

The gossip pages and newspapers loved a story containing love, a successful and beloved young man, and not to forget- her having actual connections to the club in both work, and her father's partnership with the club.

To the couple, when they entered the training center or the stadium, they would work at that particular day- it was about work and work only.

When they clocked in, they prioritized working. It would've obviously been very difficult for them to keep their relationship on the low- if they glanced at each other every damn second, while in the same room.

During working hours, they'd greet each other like their other colleagues, acting like they didn't make out the night before in his room.

Unavoidably, the players who knew about them dating, would try their best to sneak little jokes and teases in. The couple would successfully brush off the comments.

Practicing all these months made the perfect facade, but sometimes the jokes were too good not to chuckle, at least very discreetly.

"Okay, I trust you.." She mutters, pressing her face into her chest, a soft hum leaving her mouth. Thoughts and worries swirling through her mind.

"Baby! I'm ready!" I shout, almost falling flat on my face while pulling on my new heels.

These red bottoms were absolute hell to wear, especially since I had just gotten them as a gift, from Jude.

It would take some time before I could break them in, but with how stunning they looked paired with this dress, it was worth the pain, at least tonight.

To celebrate winning the league, Jude and I were finally going on a date. It had been a while since we had been on a proper date night, mostly due to how busy we both have been lately.

Jude with training and I with preparing everything, from interviews to social media posts, and even some press releases that needed to be out before the Champions League final that was in a couple days.

"I'm here.." I walk out of his bedroom, chuckling at the sheer amount of my clothes stuffed in his closet.

We had been staying over at each other's place on and off, but looking at both our closets, you'd think we'd been living together again.

Considering how important the past few weeks had been, Jude had been training a lot. I was especially worried about him and his health, mainly thinking of his shoulder injury.

His doctor and the team's physiotherapist had reassured me personally, but still, I could help but wince every time he touched his shoulder and grunted. Or seeing the multiple, pain-stopping injections, he had to take to play a full ninety minutes.

"You look handsome.." I mutter when reaching the front door, pressing a kiss onto his plump lips, my hands reaching to fix the collar of his button down. My lipgloss leaving a sheen of glitter on his lips, it making me chuckle as he gave me a dumbfounded look.

We’re fairly young, and early in our relationship, we realized that fancy dates weren't really our thing. But tonight was one of the few occasions we'd go all out, and dress up very nicely.

"You look absolutely stunning, love.." He smiles, his hand circling around my waist and down my back, fingers digging into the fabric of my dress.

"Thank you, baby.." I hum, giving him a small wink. A loud chuckle leaves my lips as he attempts to wink back, though, just like every time, it looks like he's got something in his eyes, instead of being cheeky.

"What's so funny, hm?" Jude questions, hands trailing down to grip at my bum, squeezing slightly.

"Mhm, nothing.." I say, reaching up to fix his hair a little. "Should we leave? It's getting late.."

He agrees instantly, and I wrap my arm around his as we walk out of his house. The sun hadn't set yet, mostly because summer was coming soon, and I couldn't wait to enjoy the weather this year, yet again.

"Wait- I didn't grab my keys.." I gasp, eyes going wide as I watch him pull the door shut.

"Oh, you're definitely not driving missy, especially not in those heels.." Jude says, giving me a cheeky smile, and I can immediately sense that he is hiding something.

"You got your license?!" I beam, eyes glistening in happiness. Though, my excitement is cut short when he shakes his head, an embarrassed look on his face.

"No, I did not get my license.."

"Oh.." I say, the corners of my mouth twitching as I hold back a menacing laugh.

"So, you'll be my passenger prince forever?" I bring my hand up to grab onto his bicep, squeezing the muscles as my body leans against his.

"Will you ever stop saying that?" I watch his lips move, eyes glimmering when his lips pull into a slight pout.

"When you get your license, sir. I'll stop calling you my passenger prince..."

"I'm sure you would like a break from it then.." Jude says, his expression changing to a smug one within a split-second, and I follow his lead without thinking.

My uncomfortable heels click against the concrete as Jude leads me outside the gates of the house, a sleek black Rolls Royce parked right in front of the driveway.

"You got a driver for tonight?" I ask, eyes fixated on the, admittedly sexy car.

"Going all out for my lovey tonight. I've got to spoil my girl, always.."

I grin at his sweet words, warmth reaching my face, and I suddenly feel shyness creeping up on me. I shift my gaze for a second, avoiding eye contact with him and staring at the concrete.

"Aw, is my pretty girl shy now? You weren't like this a moment ago, huh?" A soft noise of protest leaves my mouth at the loving words. My breath hitching as he presses a kiss on my neck, right against my jugular.

"Come on, love. We'll be very late to our reservation if I keep you here longer.." Jude gives me a charming smile, grabbing onto my hand and pulling me towards the car, making me forget whatever my thoughts were before he'd made my heart flutter.

"I'm sweating literal buckets. I can't even breathe properly right now.." My eyes immediately shift to Luis, my right eye twitching, just like it has been on and off this entire day. The stress and anxiety of this all had been building up in us both, causing actual physical symptoms to show.

"Ask me about it, I went peeing two times already, and we're just seventy minutes into this match.." I say, wiping my sweaty hands down my black jeans. The laptop and phone on my lap shaking, as I bounce my knee up and down in anticipation.

My heart also leaped in my throat every time Jude got fouled. Checking the stats confirmed my suspicion, he currently is the most fouled player on the pitch.

I obviously knew it was a part of the game, but considering his injury- I couldn't help but be worried.

"Fuck, I swear if we score, I'm going to lose my shit." Luis says, running a hand through his curly hair, and I can almost feel the nerves radiating off of him.

Well, all 90.000 people in Wembley Stadium feel the exact same way right now. From supporters to chairmen of both respective clubs, sitting on the edge of their seats as we all watched the Champions League final between Real Madrid and Borussia Dortmund unfold, live in front of our own two eyes.

My breath hitches in my throat as we're given a corner. The grip on my phone getting tighter as Luis glances at me.

"Okay, we got this, Toni's so experienced-"

"Shut up, I'm trying to focus.." I exclaim, grabbing onto Luis' shoulder to calm him down.

"You can't exactly focus with 90,000 people screaming.." He replies, glancing at me.

I open my mouth to speak, but decide to spare my breath, and stop breathing in anticipation.

Right, at that moment, Toni kicks the ball from the corner flag, it flies upwards as we watch both our players and Dortmund players scramble in front of the goal.

Finally, Dani jumps up and GOALLLL!!

The entire Madridista side jumps up in celebration, my devices almost slipping out of my hand and onto the floor as we jump up to cheer as loud as we can.

"I'm going to kiss Dani's forehead after this!" Luis screams, making me choke on my laughter. I hurry up and return my attention back to my devices, as happy as we were, we still had our job to do and execute.

I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm down, before we both go back to doing our jobs.

Our wishes and prayers for a second goal aren't that far away, time-wise. Dortmund player Maatsen tries passing the ball, due to a wrong estimation, Jude gets the ball instead, shooting to Vini.

He goes on to score the second banger of the night. The stadium erupts in both cheers of happiness and screams of protest.

It's even louder than after the first goal, and we know it's only a matter of five minutes before our boys secure the victory over this season's Champions League..

y/n fixes her shirt for the nth time, trying to fidget with something before she loses her mind. Standing in the tunnel, she glances at Luis. Both of their eyes glimmering, as they wait for the families of the players to enter the pitch to celebrate the win.

They were insanely busy with handling their work, channelling their emotions into doing their job, to make sure it's all taken care of before they were done for the night. The automated system, consisting of already edited work, would take care of the rest from now on...

"Dude, what just happened?.." Luis whispers, glancing at the equally mesmerized girl next to him.

"We won!" She squeals, letting her excitement and happiness show as she hugs Luis. "Fuck, I don't even know what I would do if we lost. I'd actually be having a breakdown right now.."

Luis hugs her back, patting her head affectionately.

"You've worked very hard, y/n. Thank you for being my best friend and best colleague.." He says, giving her a brotherly smile.

"Thank you too, older brother.." She laughs, voice slightly teasing, as she pats his shoulder.

"Oh, I think we can join the celebrations.." He says, pointing to the families they’ve gotten very close with over the years.

The familiar faces joining their loved one on the pitch to celebrate this huge milestone in their careers.

"Come on.." Luis says, dragging her along and onto the pitch.

She looks around, a permanent smile plastered on her face as she's overwhelmed by the emotions running through her body.

"Dani!" Luis shouts, and y/n watches him run up to the goal scorer, just like his promise- Luis plants a fat kiss on the athlete's head.

y/n laughs loudly at the interaction, making eye contact with Dani’s wife, and laughing even harder at her confused expression.

She shakes her head at her best friend’s antics. Realizing she's alone now, she freezes. Cameras were absolutely everywhere at the moment, and she was absolutely sure at least one was pointed towards her.

The weeks following the photos of their dates being leaked were quite turbulent, with a lot of support, but also criticism- it was very difficult to ignore the reactions.

She wasn't anywhere close to wanting to be a public figure of some sort, so the attention was putting a lot of pressure on her.

But loving a star athlete, like Jude meant having to sacrifice some part of her privacy. If it meant she could run up to him now, and kiss his face a couple of times.

Then screw privacy, she'd throw that all away to get to him right now.

Her eyes darting to the rest of the enormous pitch again, frowning when she can't find the boy she's so desperately looking for.

Finally, after squinting a whole lot, and definitely causing damage to her eye muscles, she finally makes eye contact with the equally lost looking Jude.

He's standing in between both his parents, arms around them as he looks around wearily.

Jude's eyes immediately light up in relief when he spots y/n, mumbling something to his smiley parents before he makes a run for it.

Within seconds, he's by his girlfriend's side, and she jumps up to wrap her legs around his waist in greeting. He pulls her flush against him in a tight embrace. y/n cups his jaw tenderly to place multiple kisses on his face.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, baby.." She breathes out, cut off as he presses his lips onto hers, exhilarating kiss that makes them forget other people are around, and especially the hundreds of cameras and phones filming the pitch.

He catches her lips, plump lips sucking onto her bottom lip before they're forced to pull back for air. They pant, faces warm, and cheeks hurting from how much they'd smiled within the past couple minutes.

"I'm proud of you too, baby. Come on, you're my family too. Forget about work and the cameras here for me, yeah?”

She plants her shoes back onto the grass when he lowers back on the floor. She looks down as he grabs onto her hand. Playing with her fingers as he makes eye contact with her.

Reaching up, she swipes at a piece of grass stuck on his temple, probably from being fouled earlier, she chuckles at the sight, biting her lip.

“Come on, then. Your parents are waiting..” She says, turning and dragging him along the pitch. Skipping towards his awaiting, happy parents. Who look at them with an infinite amount of joy and proudness in their eyes.

“He’s a winner! Jude’s our winner!!”

#jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #jude #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #bellingham x reader #bellingham #football blurb #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football imagine #football #real madrid fc #real madrid

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bamboozledbird · 4 months ago

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𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall Pairing(s): Stiles x fem!reader, Stiles x you (no use of y/n), Theo x fem!reader, Stiles x ofc Word Count: 7k (bbygurl got away from me oops) Tags: Hurt/a little, itty bit of comfort, angst is my lifeblood i fear, let's play a game of who can find all the noah kahan lyrics Warnings: Underage drinking/drug use (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), suggestive language, some light cheating, i think that's it?, sad girl summer :'(

Request: “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!” for stiles please and thnk you!!!

Part II: after many requests, here’s the happy ending: part two A/N: i am well aware theo is way too nice, and me personally?? could never forgive him for hurting scott mccall, the light of my fucking life. but it's for the plot. the things we must do for the plot of it all. i might make a part two? but this was already long, and i liked the conclusion enough to stop. lemme know if that sounds interesting to y'all. ps: listen to strawberry wine and the view between villages for vibes.

That first night, you drove home—207 miles in less than 3 hours, sobbing the entire way. Didn’t matter that you were right in the middle of finals. Didn’t matter that you had Math 19 at 8:00 in the morning. Nothing mattered except for the ringing in your ears, the blistering echoes of, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ over and over and over again until you stumbled into the house you grew up in—the house he practically grew up in. He was all over every room, all over your entire goddamn hometown, all over you, and you had this desperate, crawling urge to scrub your skin raw. Strip everything away with turpentine until the shadows of his hands and mouth were gone, until you couldn’t smell cedar and 15 years of summer nights and Sunday mornings.

That night you cried so hard it scared your sister. She spent most of the night with her back slumped against your bedroom door, fingertips poking through the little crack underneath, just like she did the first night your parents brought you home. She had to know that you were breathing, had to make sure that your little chest was rising and falling in your sweet bassinet—if you were inhaling in-between your fractured sobs. You eventually cried yourself to sleep—like a baby, like a broken heart—and thrashed around sweat-damp sheets and dreams of him kissing someone else on his couch.

Months later, you finally realize it’s a bit self-involved to think that the universe cares enough about your short, temporal existence to conspire against you…but it certainly feels like it when you tie it all together with red string. After Stiles stopped wanting you, everything just…decayed, rotted, died—so quickly, too quickly for you to bury any of the remains. You’re still grieving Allison, constantly, and currently failing at least half your classes, and, oh yeah, battling literal demons at least three times a week—but mostly, you’re just tired. You’re just so goddamn tired of it all.

To put it plainly, you’re drowning.

That must be why the neat lines of text in your Math 20 textbook are swirling into indecipherable whirlpools. It’s just so…frustrating. You get math. Math is your thing. Derivatives shouldn’t ever send you into a bout of angry tears—but you are, you’re angry. Angry at the numbers for blurring into something unrecognizable, angry at yourself for not recognizing them, for becoming a person you don’t know or like. Your lashes clump together, and few mascara-tinted tears drop onto the glossy pages. At least, the cloudy text isn’t a hallucination now.

“Are you okay?”

The library is quiet, so quiet that you should’ve heard him coming, but you jump at the sound of Theo’s voice. You don’t know him that well; Theo isn’t really the kind of guy you’d talk to, at least not before everything you knew slipped through your fingers. It’s not like you ever disliked him; it’s just…he’s always been everything you’re not—focused, organized, completely in control. He’s confident but not cocky, smart but not arrogant, ridiculously good-looking but just charismatic enough that you can’t really hate him for all the maiming and scheming he pulled last year. He’s been punished enough, you think, and sure—maybe a part of you feels that way simply because Stiles doesn’t.

You haven’t spoken to Theo much, not really. Scott does most of the talking when he shows up to the occasional pack meeting, and Lydia won’t let him within ten feet of you anyway. Frankly, you don’t realize that he knows your name until he says it. His voice is soft in a way that you know isn’t just because of library conduct. It’s his eyes, you think—they’re warm with a concern you aren’t sure what you’ve done to deserve.

You nod and then blink at the fuzzy pages of your math book, eyes almost vacant, “I just…I don't understand.”

Theo sits down next to you and leans forward, scanning the text briefly, “Which part?”

You flush, “...all of it.”

He doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes like you thought he might. Instead, he pulls his chair closer to yours and reaches for a pencil. “Most people will tell you that derivatives are the ‘instantaneous rates of change.’ That’s what the book says, and it’s kind of true, but you’re right—that doesn’t actually make any sense. Things can’t actually change in a single instant, right? Obviously, change happens between two instances, so what they actually mean is a derivative's the rate of instantaneous change measured as precisely as possible.” Theo’s voice is soft in your ear as he drags his finger across your textbook, connecting the vague definitions to numbers that actually compute through your teary haze.

You sit back and just watch for a minute, a little in awe, as he makes all the squiggles into numbers again—and you haven’t been found more than a few feet away from him ever since. You guess it’s because you’re hoping, against all odds, that he can do the same for your life. At least in some small way, maybe.

It’s definitely easier to show up to Lydia's party with his hand in yours.

You’re all back in Beacon Hills for the summer, and it’s nice. It really is. During the school year, you’re spread all across the state for the most part—you, Theo, and Lydia at Stanford; Scott, Kira, and Malia at UC-Davis; Liam and Mason, the babies, about to start their senior year of high school (it makes you want to cry if you think about it too long); Derek in…wherever he ends up for a season (it was fun to visit while he was in New York, and you secretly hope he makes a return in the fall); and, of course, there’s Stiles. He’s all the way on the other side of the country for his Quantico internship, and you still can’t escape him. His hands are all over your scent, all over every important moment of your life since pre-school. Sometimes, you think that you’ll always be one breath away from choking on the memory of him. But it’s easier, you remind yourself; it’s easier to be a minute away from home with Theo standing next to you.

The music is loud in Lydia’s front room, thumping through your chest and sharpening the anxiety crawling through your veins—gnawing at your corneas until a haze of vape and weed and flashing lights consume your vision: pink, blue, green, red, and then pink again.

Theo tightens his grip on your hand and gently pulls you into the kitchen. It’s still loud, but the air is clearer here, and the crowd is thin. There’s a couple you vaguely recognize from high school making out on the granite countertop, too enwrapped in each other’s tongues to notice the mixer-sticky surface, and a couple boys who were on the lacrosse team gather drinks for another round of beer pong behind them.

“You’re psychic,” you hum, resting your chin against the little dip in Theo’s sternum so that you can grin up at him, “tell the truth.”

He laughs easily and wraps his arms around your waist. The solid weight releases some of the vague unease stubbornly clinging to your synapses. “I solemnly swear that my supernatural abilities end at claws and fangs. I just know you; that’s all.”

You hum as he sways with you a little and shake your head, “It’s only been a few weeks. You’ve gotta have some help from the other side.”

Theo shrugs and lifts you onto the counter behind him—a non-sticky patch, thankfully—and brushes your hair out of your eyes, “Maybe I’ve been paying attention for a little longer than a few weeks.”

You tilt your head and purse your lips into a pout you hope is even half as cute as the wicked gleam in Theo’s eyes, “How long?”

He shrugs again and ducks down to murmur in your ear, “Maybe since the first grade.”

His breath is warm against your cheek, but you know that’s not the only reason your face feels hot. You push against his chest, pulling a little face, “Shut up.”

Theo laughs and grabs your wrists, kissing your knuckles, “I’m serious! You were so cute with your little pigtails and missing teeth.”

You whine a little, embarrassed as you are as pleased, and hide your face in his neck. It smells good, a little citrusy from his cologne and a little sweaty from the sheer amount of grinding bodies in the house—like a man, like he can and will take care of you. “Stop it. I hated those bangs.”

He pinches your sides a little, “And the way you’d always shoot your hand up first—with the right answer, of course—I was smitten.”

You pull away from his neck and arch your brow, “Was?”

“Am,” he concedes with a soft smile, cupping your cheek and thumbing along your lash line, “am completely smitten.”

He dips in to kiss you, lips barely an eyelash-width away from yours, when a prim cough pulls him away from his spot in-between your legs. You peer around his shoulder and roll your eyes, albeit fondly, at the stern look on Lydia’s face. She’s always been protective of you, even more so after Allison and the whole Stiles debacle, but you’re a bit tired of the Theo Raeken witch hunt.

You slip down from the counter and rock onto your tiptoes to kiss Theo’s cheek—mainly to see the pinch in Lydia’s perfectly tapered brows. “Can you put this in the coat room,” you hum against his skin, shrugging off your baggy leather jacket. He knows the real reason you’re sending him away—of course he does, sometimes it feels like he knows everything—but he goes with a smirk anyway because, despite Lydia and Stiles’s suspicions, he’s trying his absolute hardest to redeem himself.

“You could be a little nicer, y’know,” you reach for a hard lemonade from the ice bucket dripping a puddle of water onto the tile floor. You uncap it on the lip of the massive island and fold your arms over your chest, “He’s been nothing but the perfect boyfriend so far.”

Lydia matches your stance, brows curving, “Boyfriend?”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears. You haven’t actually discussed labels or exclusivity—you think it’s too early; don’t want to scare him off, but Lydia doesn’t need to know that. “Boyfriend.”

Her curls trickle over her shoulder like the strawberry wine in her cup as she tips her chin and purses her lips into a flat line, “Stiles is here.”

You try not to react—aren’t entirely sure why you do—and hide your complicated frown behind a sip of lemonade. It’s extra bitter going down. “Okay?”

Lydia shifts her weight from one Jimmy Choo to the other and sighs heavily, “He’s not going to like it.”

A flare of irritation sparks in your gut that you chase with a tip of your bottle. “Okay?” you mutter, wiping the excess liquid away with the back of your hand. A smear of nude lipstick is left behind, and you feel the sudden need to leave some on Theo’s neck for everyone to see.

“I’m just warning you; it’s going to be a whole thing,” Lydia waves her hand in the air as she takes a dainty sip from her cup. Her pink manicure shines under the lights, and you wonder briefly how she can make every color look good with her red hair.

You hum and lean forward, grin a little sloppy as you sidle up to her side, “That you’ll be on my side for. Obviously.”

Lydia watches you carefully, eyes heavy, and tucks some of the hair falling in your face behind your ear. “Obviously,” she takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, and you feel a little less giggly and a lot more tender.

You let her pull you into the crowded front room for a dance. It’s a good song, you think. Happy, lots of bass to jump to, and you’re shiny-faced and giddy by the time it’s over.

Meandering towards the back patio for some fresh air, you pull your tank top away from your torso, gauzy material sticky with sweat and someone’s body glitter. You aren’t entirely sure where Theo ended up, but you take it as a good sign that he’s mingling with your friends—which, bless his crooked little heart, is all he’s ever wanted.

The night breeze is so nice against your clammy skin that you feel a little lightheaded. You collapse on a padded deckchair and kick your feet up onto a keg, empty, most likely, based on its current state of abandonment. After a moment of hazy tranquility, a red solo cup filled to the brim with an unknown, potent liquid blocks your view of the winking gold embellishments on your boots.

“You look like you need a drink,” Scott smiles at you from his slight bend over your head.

You take the cup from Scott eagerly and down about half of it to soothe the rawness in your throat—asthma is a bitch in hotboxes, makes you almost consider asking Scott for the bite. “I need about ten,” you hum, licking the little dribble of cherry-something from the corner of your mouth. It’s too sweet, but the ice is easing the beginnings of a headache forming in your temples.

Scott sits down next to you, and you grumble a little as he nudges your side with his elbow until he has enough room to stretch his legs out too. “You look happy,” he grins at you, eyes crinkly and sweet. “Been a minute since I’ve seen that.”

“I feel happy,” you lean against his side and rest your cup against your cheek. The condensation gathered on the plastic is a godsend against your flushed face. “For the first time in…way too long.”

“Good,” Scott's voice is sincere, in the most genuinely empathic way that only Scott McCall can be, and he gently nudges your foot with his, “I’ve been worried.” He pauses and looks down at the contents of his cup, watches the ice slowly melt into whatever he poured for taste alone—you don’t like the pensive squint in his eyes. “You know I want to trust Theo, right? I really want to believe that he’s changed.”

You sigh a little, but because he only ever wants the best for everyone and, well, because it’s Scott, you say, “But?”

He gives his hands a small frown and taps his finger against the side of his drink, “Not a but, exactly. I do think he’s different now.” The mostly goes unsaid, and you watch him closely, waiting for him to finish. “I just want you to be careful, that’s all. I don’t want you to…rush into anything after, well,” Scott scratches the back of his neck a little and winces, “you know.”

“After Stiles dumped me because, ‘he needed space,’ and then started dating someone new two weeks later,” you finish for him flatly. He hadn’t even been subtle about it. His new girl was all over his Insta within the month—and she’s still fucking stunning in his flannels weeks later. Your stomach turns, but you swallow another mouthful of your dri—rum and Cherry Coke, you finally place the flavor, smiling a little at the memory of getting tipsy on the same drink at Senior prom with Scott, Kira, and…Stiles. It’s a good memory, you decide. You won’t let him take it from you.

“Yeah.” Scott sighs into his drink and then takes a long chug, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, you know? None of us do.”

“I know,” you smile at him fondly and kiss his cheek, “and it’s very sweet, but I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

Scott smiles, bright and puppy-like, and then his head cocks with his little sixth-sense tick—also puppy-like, you think with a smirk. Scott’s grin fades and he murmurs, “Three o’clock,” against the rim of his cup.

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”

Scott laughs, but it’s strained, and then nods towards something across the pool, “To your right.”

You turn your head, expecting to see one of your friends doing something stupid, and freeze momentarily when you meet Stiles’s gaze. His eyes are a little unfocused, murky with whatever’s in his plastic cup, but they sharpen when he sees you. He backs down first, and you polish off your drink, craving the sweet burn in your throat. “I need another drink.”

“You need to talk to him,” Scott says, and he takes your empty cup away from you, like he’s worried you can magically refill it with the simple power of desire. “If you can’t do it for him, do it for me. His brooding is really getting out of control.”

You don’t bother bringing up that Stiles is the one who ended it or that he brought his new girlfriend home with him. “Maybe,” you shoot Scott a sly grin and try to snag his drink from his hands, but your clumsy fingers are no match for his werewolf reflexes, “I do love and cherish you very, very much.”

Scott laughs and ruffles your hair, approaching noogie territory. “Should’ve gone out with me.”

You can’t help but look for him through the fog rising above the heated pool. Stiles’s face is pale in the reflection of the lit water; the shadows ripple across his cheeks when he tugs his girlfriend into a sloppy kiss—Chelsea, you recall, proud that there’s only a little bitterness coating the thought. “Don’t I know it,” you finally say. It’s the churning reflection and the smell of chlorine, you reason; that’s why you feel a bit like throwing up your last couple drinks.

Scott frowns when you don’t swat at his side or make fun of him, like you’d usually do in the face of such ridiculous teasing, and follows your gaze. “But that was never going to happen, huh,” he says quietly. “Not with the…” he trails off, face scrunching as he searches for the right words, “throbbingly in love since birth thing.”

You laugh through the stabbing sensation in your chest. “Throbbingly?”

He waves his free hand as he takes another sip of his drink, “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do,” you say, a small smile twitching on your face as Scott spills most of his red drink onto his white t-shirt.

He sighs and pulls the soaked material away from his chest, head darting around as he looks for something to mop up the mess. “You guys were just like…always ahead of everybody from the beginning, you know? Brains, love, all of it. I swear you guys were actually born like 30 years old, or maybe it's some kind of reincarnation, soulmate thing—okay, it probably has more to do with the…”

“Early on-set trauma?” you fill-in for him, sparing him the unpleasantness of bringing up dead mothers and mental illness.

Scott nods and licks his bottom lip before continuing, “I remember this kid had a huge crush on you, like way back in elementary school, and even at nine years old I knew he didn’t have a shot. It was just obvious, you know? It was always going to be the two of you. It was just always gonna end up that way.”

You almost laugh at the sight: Scott dabbing at his shirt with a pink beach towel and oh-so casually confirming that your worst fears aren’t only valid but in fact a reality. Maybe, you really can’t love someone else, not the way you loved him. Maybe, you’re just kidding yourself when you talk about it in the past-tense. Maybe, it really is just the two of you, even if it’s all in your head now.

“I’m definitely not drunk enough for this,” you try to sound flippant, but your words are as shaky as the hand you're raking through your hair. It’s already a mess, but you can’t stop. Your hands need to do something.

“Then you’re really not gonna like what’s coming next,” Scott says as he jerks his thumb towards something behind him.

You turn your head, and your eyes widen when you see Stiles trudging towards the two of you with his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. The chair’s metal frame squeaks with Scott’s shifting weight. He clamors to his feet, mumbling something about cleaning his shirt, and you give him your most intimidating glower, “Scott, if you walk away from me right now, I swear to fuckin’ god, I’ll never—Hi.” Your tone is clipped, short and to the point, when Stiles stops in front of you.

“Hey,” Stiles’s voice is dull, void of emotion, and so is his face. He stares at you, and you wish you knew what was really flickering behind that burnt umber and citrine honey. There was a time when you would’ve known—when you always knew. It’s so strange, you think, so strange how quickly someone can become a stranger.

You clear your throat and tuck your legs underneath yourself, tugging on the hem of your short skirt to maintain some semblance of modesty. His eyes still dart to your upper thigh, lingering on the strip of skin that’s bared when you sit upright. It’s only for a split second—but it’s enough. He’s seen it before, after all. Felt it with his long fingers and open palms. Dragged his lips across it, and left wet, open-mouth kisses along every inch—but he still looks like he wants to sink his teeth into the supple flesh one last time.

You swallow, hard, and stand, “So…how’ve you been?”

“Fine,” he replies flatly. “Obviously not as good as you.”

Your lips purse as your eyes narrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“First Theo Raeken, now Scott McCall: True Alpha, God among werewolves, Messiah of Beacon Hills. I’m genuinely impressed—bottom of my heart, babe. I mean, s’quite the body count if we’re talkin’ claws and body hair alone,” he spits. Despite the slight slur in his words, his consonants are barbed and serrated at the edges. They prick your skin and sting long after he finishes, and you know they’re going to follow you all the way home.

“Don’t be a dick,” you snap, wrapping your arms tightly around your biceps. The chill isn’t so pleasant anymore.

“What? I’m just giving you the props you’ve so clearly earned. You’ve got the magic touch.” Stiles cants his head in a way that distinctly reminds you of someone else—a monster who stole the face of the boy you loved a lifetime ago. “I’d ask how good the sex is, but I already know. It’s that thing you do with your tongue, right? When you’re givin’ head? That’s how you get ‘em, huh. Suckers—” his drink spills on his shoes when he lets out a sharp chortle, “suckers. Didn’t even mean to do that.”

You stare at him, eyes burning, and try to determine exactly how drunk he is. “Stop it.” You do your best to look more annoyed than devastated—the last thing you need is to start crying like you still care. He can't win; you won’t let him, not like this. “Just stop. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic.”

Something complicated rolls over his face, and Stiles clenches his fists, “Whatever. Guess it’ll be too late to say told’ya so when he rips your heart out and broils it—or whatever the fuck psychopaths do for fun these days.”

Your face crumples a little—not because you think Theo would ever actually hurt you but because Stiles sounds so ambivalent about the possibility. Sometimes you hate him, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot—but you’ve never stopped caring, not once. You never stop worrying about if he’ll make it out alive, if he'll survive with all his breakable bones and fragile skin intact. You find yourself staring at the ceiling until the sun rises, dwelling on all the horrific, life-or-death situations he’ll end up in when he graduates from the Academy years from now. Stiles was your best friend years before he was your boyfriend. Did all that really not matter now? Just because of something as stupid as a breakup? It’s just so…high school. You really thought it’d been…more.

Everything. You used to think it was everything.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Stiles,” you shove past him, stumbling a bit over your boots’ chunky heel and a little too much rum.

He doesn’t follow you, and you should be glad. You should be happy that he isn’t there to witness the black smears under your eyes or the snot you’re trying to hide with a few discreet sniffles. You should be grateful that he doesn’t see Theo pull you into his side and take you home, grateful that he can’t ruin the soft kisses Theo rains down on the crown of your head and the way he doesn’t push to come inside after you say your parents are gone.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it.

You barely manage to wipe off what’s left of your makeup with a damp towel and throw on some clean clothes before you tumble into bed. You’re still sweaty, grimy with tears and a night of dancing, but the rum is hitting hard, and you just want to go to sleep and forget he ever existed.

You’re halfway between sleep and consciousness in the early hours of the morning when you hear a loud thud against your bedroom window. The thudding continues, and with a great sigh you slip out of your sheets, hissing when your bare feet land on the cold floor. You slowly shuffle towards the bay window, trying to forget it's where you had your first kiss, and kneel on the cushioned bench. You have to rub at your eyes a few times when you see Stiles trying to break into your house. You only unlock the latch after you convince yourself that you’re going to push him off of the roof into the rose bushes two stories below, and then, of course, you sit back on your heels so that he has room to crawl through the narrow opening.

“When the fuck did you start locking your window?” Stiles stumbles into your room and catches himself against the floor with his palm, feet still dangling over the windowsill. You take great pleasure in shoving his legs off of the window seat and watching him fall face-first onto the carpeted rug. He grunts when he lands and rubs his jaw as he sits up, “Guess I deserved that.”

His lips part when he gets a good look at you, backlit by the moon and all his worst mistakes. You’re in an old t-shirt from middle school, bleach stains all along the left shoulder, and a pair of baggy sweatpants with ratty holes around the hem from years of dragging against the ground. Your face is still tacky with tears, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

You shift uncomfortably, pull your knees to your chest, and shiver as the night air drifts through the open window, “Still drunk?”

“Not so much,” he holds up a mostly steady hand.

“Still a fucking asshole?”

“Probably.” Stiles bites his lip and shrugs, “Definitely.”

You stare at him, sniffling quietly, hoping that he can’t hear how pathetic it sounds, “Stiles, what are you doing here?”

He drums his fingers against his thighs and shrugs again. You want to smack him. And hold him. And maybe drink some more liver poison until the school year starts again. “Dunno, just started walkin’, n’ I ended up here.” Stiles closes his eyes, and his lashes are so strikingly dark against his pale skin. “I always end up here,” he whispers like a vow, like a prayer, like forever.

You dig your toes into the bench and swallow a hiccup. “Don’t,” your protest is weak, and you blame it on your sore throat. “You can’t say shit like that. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Stiles rubs a hand over his face. He’s in need of a shave, you notice, or…maybe not. You kind of like the stubble the more you get used to it—your tipsy, sleep-deprived mind stupidly wonders what it’d feel like between your thighs. Stiles sighs, returning your attention to far more unpleasant thoughts, “But I just want to.” He leans onto his palms and tips his head back between his shoulders, shaking his head at the ceiling. “I just wanna say it all, all the things I thought while you were gone. Knew I would the second I saw you.”

“You’re—” your tongue is thick as you struggle for words over the conflicting emotions wrangling each other in your throat, “you’re so fuckin’—you can’t just come here and act like—” You rub aggressively at your eyes and push yourself to your feet, “You need to go, Stiles. I want you to go.”

Stiles stands with you and cards his fingers through his hair. It’s long, curling around his ears, and you turn your gaze away from him, staring at the wall and digging your fingers into your forearms to stop yourself from reaching for him. “Can we just…talk?” he whispers, whether it’s for his sake or yours, you’re not entirely sure. He looks small, scared, but you can’t tell if he’s afraid for you or of you. “Just for a little bit. I need…I just need another minute. That’s all, and then I’ll go. Promise.”

I need. I need. I need. It’s always what he needs on his time. You cross the floor with wild eyes and snap, “What do you want to talk about? Huh? How you left me for someone else, or how I’m such a fucking whore for moving on?”

He grits his teeth and grabs your wrists, long fingers overlapping around the delicate bones when you try to yank away from his firm grip. “You think this is what I want?” He doesn’t yell. Somehow, that’s worse. “You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!”

You thrash in Stiles’s arms, and his pained expression is blurry through your wet glare, “You had me! I was yours! I was so fucking in love with you, and then you—you just ended it and moved on, like it was nothing.” Your chest heaves, a stark contrast to the gentle quiver in your bottom lip. Your voice drops to something almost inaudible; it's the only way you can get through this while you're crying, the only way you can force the words through your tender throat, “Like I was nothing.”

Your cries turn into sobs when Stiles pulls you into his arms, and they wrack through your entire body when he kisses your hair and whispers sweet nonsense in your ear. You struggle for a moment longer, and then there's nothing left. You've given him everything. You sag into him, legs sinking with your full weight until he wraps his arms around your waist and presses you tighter to his chest. “I got scared,” Stiles whispers against the crown of your head when your cries peter into hiccups, and your next whimper shudders through your shoulders. He rests his palms against the small of your back and inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, ducking his head down to kiss your forehead, “You were so far away, and so, so perfect, and I missed you all the fucking time.”

Stiles pauses, but it’s not for you. It’s a stall; you can feel his knee bounce and his fingers twitch. You wait, face buried in his collarbone, too busy trying to breathe to even think about speaking. After a moment, could’ve been seconds, could’ve been hours, he squeezes you—almost until it hurts, and it feels like he’s terrified that you’re just another one of the shadows on your bedroom walls. “I couldn’t ask you to transfer from Stanford to some fuckin’ state school in Virginia, so I fucked everything up ‘cause I guess...at least then it was my choice—and I know that just makes it worse. I know that. Because that means I chose to ruin it, I decided to hurt you…and I’m so fucking sorry. Just so unbelievably, life-ruiningly sorry.”

And there it is. The apology you’ve been waiting for, dreaming of, fantasizing about in every shower, in every cafe line, in every early morning class—and it’s just so…hollow. It sits between the two of you, heavy and horridly inadequate. “You found someone else,” you whimper into his shoulder, clasping at his t-shirt and wetting the white collar with your tears and runny nose—and you wish, more than anything, that this could be enough. “How could you find someone else that quickly?”

Stiles freezes, stops rubbing your back and rocking you from side-to-side, and it’s just jarring enough to remind yourself how dangerous it is to be in his arms. You step back and wrap your arms around yourself instead, and Stiles watches you with something hopeless all over his face. “I was just trying to prove that I didn’t make the biggest fucking mistake of my life,” he says, but he says it to his shoes. You wonder who he’s hiding from: himself or you. “Didn’t work, obviously.”

You just stare at him, arms limp by your sides, and shake your head a little. “What are you doing here, Stiles?” your voice is clotted with mucus and defeat, and it breaks halfway through along with your knees. You lean against the wall and close your lids so that you don’t have to see his eyes: so vast, so deep, so damn pretty—you’re suffocating in them. “What do you want from me?”

He’s relentless. Stiles steps forward, and there’s nowhere for you to go. “I want you.” And that’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s the rub. It’s always hunger, no sating. No happy ending.

“Nothing’s changed.” You tilt your head and wring your fingers in the hem of your t-shirt, tugging every so often, “I’m still going back to Stanford, and you’re still going back east in the fall.” UPenn. Criminology, obviously. You never got the chance to congratulate him.

“I know,” he’s right in front of you now, waiting for you to push him away. You don’t.

The back of your head hits the wall as you tip your chin up to look at him, “And I have Theo, and you have…her.”

“I know,” he braces his hands next to the sides of your head, watching your lips move without any shame, breath hot against your skin.

“Stiles…” you plead with him through your lashes, asking for mercy, on hands and knees begging him to turn around and leave.

“Tell me you don’t want me.” Stiles rests his forehead against yours, “Tell me it’s over, and there’s nothing I can do to fix this.”

“You already know,” you close your eyes and shake your head, nose rubbing against his, “you know I’d be lying.”

“You love me.” It’s not a question. He knows. He’ll always know.

You shake your head again, and Stiles can taste the salt on your lips, “Doesn’t matter.”

“I love you,” Stiles whispers, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Too late,” your lips brush against his, feather-light, and catch on the chapped center of his mouth.

He kisses you, cups your jaw like you’re ineffably precious, and you feel like you can breathe for the first time in months. Stiles tilts his head a little, and his tongue is gentle in its prodding, almost sweet—but he grabs onto your hips like he wants to eat you alive. You just might let him, you think, when you feel his stubble scrape against your neck as he trails a balmy line of kisses towards your collarbone.

You wind your fingers in his hair and tug to keep yourself on your feet. “We ca—ah,” he licks along your pulse, on purpose, and you shiver, “we can’t do this.”

Stiles hums against your cheek. “And yet, here I am, sliding my hands under your shirt, trying to cop a feel.” His fingers dip under your shirt. They’re cold on your bare stomach, and you flinch a little. Dizzyingly, you remember where you are, who you’re with, and who's going to text you in the morning to make sure you’re okay.

“We really can’t do this,” you whisper, slipping your hands from his hair to his arms. You pull them away gently and tip your head back from his persistent mouth, “I’m not going to hurt Theo the way you hurt me, and I’m not going to let you do this to someone else.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, gravelly and thick. He turns away from you, paces the length of your room a few times, and throws his hands around like he can change your mind if he gestures hard enough, “You know it’s not the same.” Stiles stops abruptly and shakes his head, seemingly at nothing—and then he’s back in front of you before you can catch your breath. He places his hands on your shoulders and then slides his palms to your biceps, just holding onto you. Not clutching, not squeezing, just a light touch that you can’t seem to break away from.

“You’ve been my best friend for 15 years,” Stiles licks his bottom lip, and you watch him with wide eyes and a blitzing heart, “and I’ve loved you for well over half of ‘em—just plain wanted you even longer.” He slips his hand down your arm to your hand and tangles his fingers with yours, lifting them to rest over his skittering heartbeat, “You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s how it is. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how it should be.”

You want to say it back, you do, but you just can’t. Not with all the unresolved details wriggling in your ear. “You brought her home, Stiles. You can’t just…just introduce her to your dad and cheat on her all in the same day.”

“Technically, cheat on and then dump,” he tries to smile, but it’s not convincing. Not with the guilt dimming his eyes.

“That’s not funny,” you snap, but the guilt is good. He wouldn’t be the man you know, the boy you grew up with, if he didn’t feel at least a little guilty about the whole thing.

“Dad’s out of town,” Stiles admits quietly, and for some reason, that means more to you than his apology, than his kisses, than his hand in yours. You didn’t realize how much the thought had been bothering you until now—destroying you one post at a time. “I only brought her because I knew you were going to be here with…him.” He shrugs a little, “Frankly, I think she knows. She aced behavioral science.”

You roll your eyes and huff, “You’re an asshole.”

“I know,” he concedes and kisses the back of your hand, continuing along the row of your knuckles, “but I’m in love with you, and it’s become abundantly clear that I always will be.”

Your bottom lip trembles with the desire to give in to what you want, but your hand twists away from him with what you know is right—even though it feels so horrendously wrong. “I can’t do this to him, Stiles. He’s been through so much, and he’s been so good to me, and he’s trying so hard to—”

“But you don’t love him!” Stiles hisses. It’s the loudest he’s been all night, but you don’t flinch from the volume. It’s the truth of it all, the vile honestly you can’t hide from that makes you recoil.

You look at the ceiling through your lashes, an old trick to fight the tears welling in your tear ducts. Some girl in middle school told you about it in the bathroom, and you try to remember her name and what cloying body spray she was spritzing instead of thinking about how easy it would be to let Stiles crawl into your bed and make you forget about everyone and everything that isn’t him. “I should,” you finally murmur throatily, biting on your lip, “maybe I could…someday.”

Stiles whips his head towards your face and takes a little stumbling step backwards, “You don’t believe that.” You’re sure that he wishes he sounded more confident, but he gives himself away with the hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Say you don’t believe that.”

“You need to go, Stiles.” You clutch at your arm with your other hand and step back towards your bed, further away from him and the wet film over his eyes. “I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He opens his mouth and then scrubs his arm over his face, wiping away the incriminating wet gleam on his cheeks with the sleeve of his flannel. “Okay,” his throat bobs with the strength of his swallow, “yeah, okay.”

You wait until he reaches your bedroom door to crawl onto your bed. You curl in on yourself, like a child, ad press your face into your legs, your knees to your chest, your back against the headboard—but Stiles pauses before you can really fall apart.

Stiles rests his hand against the doorframe and chews on his cheek, on his words, on the thought of you, and then he says, “I’m still breaking up with her. You don’t…you don’t owe me anything—that’s fucking putting it lightly, I know—but I’m still breaking up with her.” He lifts a shoulder and smiles, a little sad but so true, “There’s no one else for me. There’s never going to be anyone else…just thought you should know.”

He’s gone by the time you look up from your kneecaps. Good. You were this close to giving in. This close to throwing yourself over the edge for someone who’s dropped once before, and you’re still cleaning up the mess he left behind. You should be proud of yourself, happy that you weren’t weak enough to say yes, yes, a million, billion, trillion times yes.

But you aren’t, and you hate yourself for it.

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