#just watched earlier then made this in all my emotional turmoil...

[selsdraws]

"you were a wonderful experience"

"you were... everything"

[6toru]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

synopsis. after many failed attempts of finding love, the end of your most recent relationship seemed to take the cake. just as you were about to believe that, maybe, romance was simply not in the works for you — fate had different plans, taking in the form of an app called heartchat.

pairing. gojo satoru x fem!reader genre. office au + s2l & smut cw. mature content (mdni), kinda fast-paced, phone sex, voice kink, public sex, rough sex, dirty talk / explicit language, pussy drunk!gojo, big dick!gojo, use of alcohol, annoying ex

wc. 14.6k

author's note. inspired by the manwha 'superstitious nine'! + another one of my top fav works ! enjoy & happy reading everyone <3

Throughout your twenty seven years of living, it was fair to say that you had little to no luck with men, although it was something that you’ve long grown accustomed to, or at least, tried to. Usually, it would’ve been easy to shrug off your misfortunes by telling yourself that you’d only be saving yourself from further disappointment, but nowadays, it’s gotten harder to ignore the vexatious turmoil steadily building up within your chest while you watch all your friends, one by one, get their happy ending and starting their families with their first love. You’d only gotten into three relationships, however none of them turned out successful �� your first one being in your last year of highschool and your second being in your first year of college – none of which lasted more than a few months and kiss on the lips was the furthest thing you’d gotten. However, if your first two relationships disappointed you, then your third one would be a complete understatement. 

Zen’in Naoya was a man of many facades, and you were a fool to believe that there’d be good in any of them. 

Zen’in Naoya, heir of the ZEN corporate, also known as the general manager of your silly office job, was popular amongst the ladies for his good looks and charisma. The mere mention of his name gave a sour taste on your tongue. If you could describe this man in one single word, it would be suffocating. Beneath that charismatic exterior of his was a serpent ready to pounce on his prey when it was the time he deemed as fit.

In your pathetic, desperate attempt to chase after the love that you yearned for, you believed that he loved you. You believed that he loved you despite keeping your relationship a secret, his excuse being that he couldn’t allow himself to be seen romantically with a commoner. You believed that he still loved you when he’d act as if you were invisible as he entertained the other female workers. You believed that he still loved you when he’d sneak jealous glances towards you while you spoke with your other male coworkers. You believed his sweet, empty lies and you always ate them all up as if they were candy. Being with him felt suffocating – the mere idea of being kept as his secret lover, his toy – it was too much for you to bear, wishing for something more with someone who’d easily toss you to the side after playing with your emotions. 

A damned fool, that’s what you were. If present you could smack past you, you would’ve and made sure that it left a warm, red print on it, too.

It was about time that you ended things with the Zen’in heir, after being involved with the snake for six months. If someone were to ask you why you hadn’t left earlier, you wouldn’t be able to tell them – not that anyone would ask anyways, your relationship with that man was something that you’d keep to your grave, entertaining him for half a year straight was already too humiliating to bear. 

You shook your head rapidly as if it could swat those inappropriate and intrusive thoughts away from your mind. ‘It’s wrong to be thinking about these damn things during your best friend’s wedding, get a grip of yourself!’ 

Your fingers danced around the empty wine glass, your other palm resting on the sides of your cheeks as your gaze surveyed the reception hall. The music was blaring and you could make out the sight of your best friend, Riko, having the best time of her life dancing with her newly wedded husband. You cracked a small smile at the sight. She looked absolutely beautiful in the gown, and she definitely shone the brightest in the room. She glanced over to you, smiling widely as she blew multiple kisses and hearts your way and you laughed at Riko's adorable burst of energy.

You returned your attention to your empty wine glass, silently contemplating whether or not you should get a third glass.

“Y/N, babe, what are you doing out here drinking alone?” Ren, one of the bridesmaids – and one of your childhood friends, chimed in. You jumped a little at her sudden appearance, and then you followed with a light giggle. “It’s been a while since I drank something, I was honestly craving for some wine.”

“Is it just cravings?” She questioned, leaning towards you with her palm propped against her cheek and she stared at you intently. “You usually don’t enjoy drinking alone when you’re bothered about something. You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“Am I that easy to read?” You complained jokingly.

Ren rolled her eyes at your response before grinning. “Yes. Now spill.”

“I recently ended things with someone,” you said, keeping it fairly vague. “I just wish I did it sooner, you know? Instead of making a fool out of myself…”

Right after you said that, you could tell that she wanted to know who the mystery man was but she relented. For a minute she stayed silent, and it seemed like she was trying to formulate the right words in her brain and 50 different combinations. 

“He already sounds like a pretty shitty guy,” Ren muttered under her breath before glancing back up at you with curious eyes, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you plan on doing next? Like, do you plan on being sad forever or…?”

“Being sad forever sounds good enough to me,” you joked, only to receive a light smack on the shoulder. 

“Bad!” Ren laughed before pausing once more. “Anyways, I was just about to ask you if you were okay with trying something new. I think it could, you know, be entertaining for you.”

“New? And what  do you mean entertaining—?”

“—Give me your phone, and I’ll show you!”

You were getting curious now. Raising a brow, you handed her your phone and she snatched it away from your grasp while cackling evilly. Minutes later, she handed you your phone and all that you could make out is a bright pink background and a heart in the middle. HeartChat, it reads. “What’s this supposed to be?” You questioned your friend.

“It’s something fun,” she replied, laughing giddily. “After work, when you get home, have some beer – and once you feel yourself getting drunk, use the app that I downloaded before you go to bed. Got it?”

“This looks a lot like tinder,” you remarked, not looking very convinced with your friend’s words. You weren’t the type to use dating apps, after all. 

“I promise you, you’ll be far more entertained.” Ren winked. 

The blaring sound of your alarm resonated across the room, and you emitted a heavy, gruff sigh. Seven o’clock, it reads on your bright phone screen. You continued to stare at the screen for a couple more seconds, your body feeling lethargic and overall heavy from fatigue. You shouldn’t have left the reception so late. Groaning in disdain, you forced yourself up from the comfort of your bed and began your morning routine. It was around seven forty five when you finished, and with quick fingers, you grabbed your work ID, wallet and keys and shoved them into your bag before rushing outside your apartment. The walk to the nearest bus stop should take around four minutes, you thought to yourself. 

Myriads of thoughts slipped in your mind as you walked closer to your bus stop, ready to consume you whole. You hadn’t seen Naoya for a week already since the day you left him, and needless to say that week had been one of the most peaceful weeks you’ve ever had since stepping foot in that workplace. 

Sighing, you sat down on the bench and fixed the hem of your pencil skirt. Glancing at the time on your phone, seven-fifty, it read. The bus should be arriving very soon. 

It was eight-ten when you arrived at work, and you rushed across the building — making a beeline towards the elevator.

Just as the elevator was about to close, a hand peeks out through the gaps, thus the elevator opening and it took all your self-control to stop yourself from scowling. 

“It’s been a while,” Naoya walked in, feigning a smile. “It’s been a week, Mr. Zen’in.” you returned the smile. 

The elevator closes, leaving you confined with the man you desperately wanted to avoid. He turns his head slightly to face you, his eyes boring into yours. There was an uncomfortable tension lingering in the thick air. It seemed like he had many things to say to you but he relented, and you’d rather he keep it that way.

You looked away from the man, grabbing your phone in your bag. You pretended to scroll through your phone to pass the time. 

After what it seemed like an eternity, the door to your floor opened and you rushed to your desk.

 The Zen’in heir followed suit, heading towards his office. You could hear the whispers from your colleagues, theorizing as to where he might’ve gone in the previous week. You continued to set up your desk. You could honestly care less about the man’s business, though. 

The rest of the morning was spent with you answering phone calls, typing, printing out papers, organizing files – the usual, might you add. Occasionally you’d stare at Ren’s empty desk and silently make wishes that she’d just appear – you already knew that she was probably having the time of her life sleeping in on her day off. 

It was already time for your lunch break, if it weren’t for your two coworkers practically dragging you out of your desk you would’ve actually continued working until evening. 

“Y/N, you gonna join us for dinner and drinks next weekend?” Your coworker, Haruto, questioned. You chewed on your lunch silently, thinking of an answer while he and Hirumi.  waited with an eager expression. “I’m down,” you replied before teasing your friend, “is it going to be on you?”

“You wish,” Haruto rolled his eyes before taking a bite out of the onigiri he bought from the cafeteria, “boss said that everything’s going to be on him.”

You paused briefly. “That’s a first.”

“Right? This is the first time he’s actually gone out to join us for dinner. All it took was for Emi to invite him and he actually agreed.” Himari added. 

A part of you wanted to turn around and tell them that you had plans, but a part of you already knew that there really was no point avoiding Zen’in Naoya. He was your boss after all, and as long as he didn’t give you a hard time at work, you were content. You were sure that even after you ended your questionable relationship with him, he’d still act indifferent. It was already a given that his status and reputation were the two most important things to him, so you convinced yourself that acting as if nothing had happened was the best possible solution.

“Hi,” a sudden voice caught your attention and you quickly glanced up from your meal to meet gazes with Emi, your new colleague. You remembered when she was first introduced, she was immediately loved by everyone due to her kind and bubbly nature despite the young woman being a little clumsy at her job. She appeared shy in front of your presence and she gave you a soft smile. “Can I join you guys?”

“Yes, yes! Come sit with us!” Haruto replied, almost immediately and almost too enthusiastically. Emi took a seat next to him and she exchanged polite greetings with everyone. 

“Emi, just curious, how did you manage to bring Mr. Zen’in along? This is actually the first time he’s ever agreed to come join us for dinner and drinks.” Himari asked almost immediately and Emi’s cheeks were flushed a pale pink, surprised at her sudden question. You almost felt bad for Emi, watching her immediately getting put on the spot by your friend. Himari had always been the curious and nosy type, always needing some fresh gossip or anything to satiate her curiosity. 

“I didn’t know about that,” she replied, laughing shyly before locking eyes with yours. “When I asked him while we were getting coffee, he agreed immediately. But now that Himari told me that, I’m just as surprised.”

“Also,” Emi said, “Y/N, are you going to come too?”

You nodded your head in response while you took a small sip from your water bottle. 

“That’s great!” She clasped her hands together. “This would be both Y/N and Mr. Zen'in’s first time joining for dinner and drinks, then!”

You raised a brow at this. The way she put so much emphasis on you and your boss seemed a little uncanny – and you weren’t going to ignore the way she looked at you when she talked about him, either. You waved it off, though. Perhaps you were overthinking things and still felt somewhat cautious around the topic of your ex — if it was even right to be considered one, as embarrassing as that sounded.

After all, she was the flower of the office. 

“Yeah, our Y/N’s been too much of a hard worker.” Haruto added before turning over to you, too. “I’m even surprised that you agreed. Imagine if you didn’t go – that would’ve been the third time this year.” 

“She is someone that I look up to a lot,” Emi said briefly, giving you a soft smile. Not long after, she excused herself from the table. You silently watched her figure disappear the farther she walked. You glanced at the time on your phone and you sighed softly, you were going to have to return soon. 

It was nearing seven in the evening when you arrived back at your apartment, immediately plopping down onto your couch and grabbing your phone. For several minutes, you boredly scrolled through your phone before you suddenly remembered what Ren had told you last night: “After work, when you get home, have some beer – and once you feel yourself getting drunk, use the app that I downloaded before you go to bed. Got it?”

After changing into your pajamas and bringing your can of beer with some pork cutlet along with some dessert, you plopped back down on the couch. Opening the app on the phone, you raised your brows at your phone being bombarded with pink hearts before revealing the introduction page.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ WELCOME TO HEARTCHAT ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚  if you're looking for a little bit of spice, you have come to the right place!  before proceeding with the app, please confirm your age and date of birth: [date] / [month] / [year]

You followed the instructions, and surprisingly, that was all it took for you finish making your profile — if it was even considered to be one. There was no name, no profile picture, or no biography asked. "Interesting," you muttered to yourself as you explored the app.

Not even a minute later, your phone pinged.

M 0524454: you married? proceed to chatroom? yes | no

Not even a hello? You decided to ignore the message, taking another sip out of the beer can. You turned the television on, watching a drama that Hirumi once recommended you while you ate your pork cutlet bowl. It wasn't until nearly twenty minutes that you received another text, and this time you could only stare at your screen in pure confusion and disbelief.

M 0497205: ntmy, hoay proceed to chat room? yes | no

"What the hell do those even mean?" You mumbled to yourself, staring at the screen with heavy eyelids as you declined the person's request. Looking at all those abbreviations were about to give you one hell of a headache, combined with the beer.

M 0529485: age? proceed to chatroom? yes | no

"Entertaining, my ass." You muttered as you pressed your cool palms against your flushed cheeks, swiftly declining the person's request to chat. At this point, you were beginning to question why Ren downloaded this app on your phone in the first place. There was nothing entertaining except for the confusing text abbreviations appearing on the screen.

Just as you were about to close the app and call it a night, your phone pinged once more.

M 0337411: Hello. proceed to chatroom? yes | no

'Finally, someone normal." You thought to yourself, your finger hovering over the 'yes' option. 'If this person's not any good, I'll delete the app.'

F 0236113: Hello. M 0337411: Have you eaten dinner, yet?

'Oh, he's polite too!' You grinned, and you got yourself more comfortable on the couch -- laying on your stomach as your feet dangled in the air. You took a bite out of your kikufuku, munching happily as you texted the stranger.

F 0236113: I just had some pork cutlet. What about you? M 0337411: That's funny. I also had pork cutlet for dinner. M 0337411: I'm eating kikufuku right now for dessert. F 0236113: No way. That's crazy because I'm also eating kikufuku. M 0337411: Imagine if we have the same flavour too F 0236113: Okay in three seconds we'll tell each other the flavour of our kikufuku F 0236113: Zunda and cream  M 0337411: Zunda and cream M 0337411: It appears we have something in common.

You giggled a little, feeling your cheeks flush even more, unknowing if it was from the beer or from the excitement of clicking so quickly with a stranger -- or both. 

F 0236113: Can I ask you something then? F 0236113: Which do you prefer: shoyu or tonkotsu ramen? M 0337411: Tonkotsu. F 0236113: I prefer tonkotsu, too. F 0236113: I promise i'm not copying you. M 0337411: Let me make sure. M 0337411: Do you like dorayaki or warabi mochi? F 0236113: Warabi mochi. Especially with the syrup! M 0337411: Ah, me too. The syrup makes everything better. M 0337411: I wasn't trying to copy you either. F 0236113: Would you consider yourself to be a sweets type of person? M 0337411: I'd consider myself one, yes. I mostly eat sweets because they stimulate my brain.  F 0236113: I think sweets also gives me the same effects.  M 0337411: You sure you're not copying me this time? F 0236113: I'm not!!  M 0337411: Hard boiled egg or soft boiled egg? F 0236113: Soft boiled  M 0337411: Soft boiled F 0236113: Hot soba vs cold soba? M 0337411: Cold F 0236113: Cold!

You kicked your legs in the air, giggling. Who could've expected that you'd have so many things in common with a stranger. You continued to text the stranger for what it seemed like an hour, or two. Any remnants of fatigue from work had evaporated like water.

F 0236113: What else do you like?  M 0337411: Can I say something a little strange then?  F 0236113: Sure, what is it?

The stranger didn't text right away, this time. It was silent on your end for almost two minutes. You were about to open your second can of beer until you heard your phone ping.

M 0337411: I like phone sex.  M 0337411: Do you want to try having phone sex with me?

You almost choked on your spit, staring at the screen with wide eyes. If your cheeks had gotten any more hotter, it definitely wouldn't have been caused by the beer at all. Phone sex. Has this man gone mad? Your stomach churned a little and you felt your heart rate steadily increasing. You could only stare at his response, completely flabbergasted.  Was this was Ren meant by entertaining?

F 0236113: Sure, why not?

However, it wasn't like you hated it. You were unsure if the main source of your arousal was from the beer or simply from the excitement you felt towards engaging in such acts with a man whose face you've never seen — let alone know their name. Nevertheless, you didn't want to miss this chance.

His response was almost immediate, your phone ringing against the oak table — the sound of the app's ringtone playing repeatedly as you slowly brought your phone to your ear and pressed 'answer'.

"Hello?" A deep, baritone voice filled the silence and you swore if your cheeks weren't burning hot before — they definitely were now. His voice was definitely your type.

"H-Hello," you stammered, an immediate wave of shyness hitting you.

"Your voice," he began, "were you drinking?"

"How did you know?" You questioned him. Was it that obvious?

"You're stalling your words a little bit.” He commented before, a soft laugh leaving his lips soon after.

Stop. Even his laugh is sexy.

“I-Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “your voice sounds really good. It’s cute, too.”

'It's cute, too'

You felt your body heat up even more. Something about his voice made you feel like melting in a pool of your own heat — perhaps it was the way he drags his voice, or perhaps it was because of how deep his voice is, or perhaps it was the way he sounded like he came out of a porno or drama CD — and as much as you hated to admit it, it was so obvious that this stranger had reduced you into a horny and nervous mess.

"I like your voice too," you confessed.

"Oh? Is that right?"

"Yes."

You could hear the man chuckle a little before speaking again, "You'll hear much more of it very soon."

You blushed even more at his words. Was this man teasing you?

“Then, where are you right now?” He questioned. 

“Um, I’m on my couch right now in the living room.” You replied back to the man.

“The couch is pretty boring, don’t you think?”

“What makes you say that? I personally think it’s pretty comfy.”

"I do too, but the space's pretty narrow for you to be thrashing around while I fuck you, no?”

“T-that’s true,” you stammer out. You were really going to melt right there and then.

“Let’s move to the bed, then.”

The moment you stood up from your couch, you thought you were going to fall right back down. You could practically hear your heart beating through your ears, growing louder and louder, as you neared the bedroom.

"Are you nervous?" The man questioned you, the timbre in his voice sent shivers down your spine.

"Just a little bit," you confessed, "I've never done this before."

"It'll be okay. Just give me the red light, and we'll stop. Sounds good?"

You hummed in response as you entered your room and plopped down your bed.

"I'm guessing you're on the bed now."

"Hm, that's right."

Your ears flushed red when you heard the man’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Well then, want to take your pants off?”

“Actually,” you giggle, “I’m not wearing pants right now.”

“Haah, fuck.” The man groaned from the opposite line. “You’re doing this on purpose, huh?”

“Why won’t you strip out of your shirt then, princess? Do it nice and slow for me.”

You placed your phone down on the nightstand, and you followed the man’s instructions; slow hands the hem of your shirt before you pulled it over your head — you were practically naked now, all that was left were your panties.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice breathless.

“It’s your turn,” you said breathlessly, “to take off your shirt.”

“As you wish.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and pressed it against your ear, you could faintly hear the man unbuttoning his shirt before it dropped down to the ground, and lewd thoughts immediately came rushing into your mind, the heat pooling between your legs becoming even more unbearable.

“Anything else you want me to do?”

“Take off your pants,” you ordered, your voice quiet.

You could hear shuffling on the other end once more, your imagination running wild as the sounds of the belt unbuckling and dropping to the floor resonated in your ear as if it was a mild echo. He must be tall, judging from how long it took off his clothes. You closed your eyes, imagining that you were there with him, watching as he stripped out of his clothes in front of you.

“I’m all naked now,” the man finally said.

A soft moan slipped past your lips almost immediately after he uttered those words, your hips involuntary bucked against the mattress.

“Does my voice turn you on?” He questions you in a teasing tone, but it was evident that he was just as affected as you were.

“Yeah,” you admitted bashfully, your voice breathless.

“Your voice is a huge turn on for me too,” said the man, “turns me on so much that I wanted to things like this the moment I heard your voice.”

How could he sound so composed? You attempted to stifle a small whine — his voice and your imaginations were driving your senses wild. Despite being all alone in your bedroom, you swore that you could feel strong hands trailing their way down your body, travelling lower and lower.

“Now then,” he began, “put your hand in your panties and softly rub your clit for me.”

With shaking hands, you followed his commands in concupiscent obedience, slipping your right hand into your panties and rubbing the sensitive bud with your pointer and middle finger.

“Mhhm, aah.”  You were already breathless, despite it merely being the beginning. You could hear the faint noises of the male jerking off in the other line, his soft groans were music to your ears.

“I need more,” you panted, “I wan’ more.”

“Take off your panties, then, and continue rubbing that pretty pussy of yours with more pressure.”

The speed you took your panties off was almost embarrassing, knowing that a stranger — whose name and whose face you’ve never seen before — managed to reduce you into a desperate mess with just his voice. Plopping your back down on the bed, you spread your legs wide as your hand slowly returned to the sensitive bud.

Your soft moans of wanton filled the room, only getting louder from hearing the man groan. You imagined him on top of you, his breath hot in your ear — as he rubs your clit greedily with his large hands. You could feel your body growing lighter the more you continued with the assault on your clit. The pressure in your abdomen continued to build up, and your moans were raising in volume — sounding more lewder. You were getting closer to your orgasm, the sounds of the stranger playing with his cock along with his soft groans were itching you closer and closer to your release.

“I-I’m so close,” you let out a small whimper, bucking your hips desperately against your hand.

“Put your two fingers in,” the stranger said, almost in a pleading tone, “make yourself come like that, sweet girl. Imagine it’s me stretching that tiny hole of yours.”

You complied, inserting two fingers into your sopping wet cunt, sucking them in almost immediately. The wet sound of your pussy taking your fingers in made the man moan almost immediately.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Is that all for me, huh?”

You could only moan in response, your hips thrusting into your hands, trying to reach deeper.

“Go faster.”

You listened to him and you picked up the pace, the pressure building up in your abdomen steadily increasing the closer you got to your orgasm. The sounds of your sopping cunt filled the room, together with the sounds of your needy moans and whimpers as you went faster and faster. In your pornographic imagination, his large fingers replaced yours — toying with your hole as his other hand played with your nipple. “Mhhm,” you arched your back, “I’m so so close, please—Ah!”

“Keep going princess, and don’t you dare stop.”

As if his words had cast a spell on you, your pace increased and your moans gotten even louder. Your imagination getting more and more vivid by the second.

"I'm cumming -- I'm cumming!" you babbled out, crying out in a desperate moan as you arched your back, letting your orgasm wash over you.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” the man groaned out, and you replied with a soft laugh through your heavy breathing.

“I’m so close,” he spoke through heavy breaths, “get on your knees and raise your ass up for me.”

You followed his words, adjusting your position on the soft mattress so that your chest was pressed against the mattress and your ass high up in the air. You could feel warm hands travelling down your back and up to your breast -- Fuck, you were sensitive all over.

"Oh, how I'd love to fuck you like this." He said, chuckling lowly as he breathed heavily. "Make yourself cum for me, again. Think about my cock fucking your pussy."

You moan at his lewd words, your hips bucking up as you entered your two fingers back into your sopping hole. Your fingers weren't enough to stretch you out. You wanted more. You needed more. Your hips thrusted back against your fingers, hungry for more friction. Scenarios of the stranger fucking you played in your mind like it was a porno movie, you could imagine his nails gripping into your hips, his cock reducing you into a dumb mess.

"Ahh-- Fuckk.. By the way you're moaning right now, I can tell that you're close to coming. I-I'm getting close too -- Ah. Let's cum together. Tell me when you're cumming, please."

There was a certain strain in the stranger’s voice as his pace on his cock quickened, his voice breathy and low as he muttered a jumble of praises. At this point, you felt yourself growing even more lightheaded while another moan leaves your drooling lips.

“I’m gonna cum,” you told the man in a breathless whimper, and you could hear the sound of fapping quickening in response to your words.

“Cum for me.”

And just like that, your mind went completely blank as you came in your hand. A muffled moan escaped your lips, your face pressed into the pillows.

The man lets out the most sexiest moan soon after, almost whimpering as he rode out his orgasm.

There was a minute of silence between you both, shaky breaths filling the room as you both attempted to control it. You rolled onto your back, staring at your hand which was drenched in your juices.

“How do you feel?” He later broke the silence, and you let out a soft laugh. “Really good,” you told him, “I enjoyed it a lot.”

“That’s good, I really liked it too.”

“You know,” you began, “you talk super differently on call compared to how you text.”

“Oh? You don’t like it? I thought you liked it.”

“I-I never said I didn’t like it!” You retorted. “It was just an honest observation.”

“Anyway,” you continued, “I’ve got to go now, it’s getting late now and I have work tomorrow…”

“Alright then,” replied the man, “but can we call again?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

It was a new day with same, old, usual routine. Groggily getting up from your bed as the sounds of the alarm blaring from your phone resonates athwart your bedroom. As if your body was set into auto-pilot, the rest of the early morning spent preparing for work turned into a blur, and it wasn't until now--while commuting to work--that you could feel your phone vibrating in your hand.

M 0337411: Good morning. Did you sleep well?

Oh.

Memories from last night suddenly came rushing in, and you never wanted anything more than to crawl into a hole and stay there, and rot for the rest of eternity. A warm incarnadine flush returns to your cheeks as you recollect the events that passed, the sheer embarrassment washing over you; the images of you -- evidently drunk, horny, and naked on your bed--engaging with such dirty acts with a stranger over the phone. A stranger.

It took almost everything in you to not scream in embarrassment in the bus, your palms lightly smacking your cheeks in hopes you'd cool off the heat in your cheeks. You were for sure going to melt.

Moments later, you found yourself staring at the tall glass building before you in a complete daze. All of a sudden, you didn’t really feel the need to work.

The rest of the morning was spent with staring mindlessly at the computer screen, restless fingers tapping on your desk. The computer was taking its sweet time connecting to the office printer, the ‘retry’ window popping up for the three tries you had attempted. Sighing softly, you slumped your back against your seat as you turned over to Ren, who busied herself with (discretely) playing solitaire on the computer.

Silently, you wondered how she’d react if you told her what had happened last night.

You switched your gaze back to your stubborn computer, eyes glaring into the bright screen — daring it to try defying you, one more time. With focused eyes, you watch as your computer slowly connects with the printer; silently praying that a ‘retry’ window wouldn’t appear this time.

Printer connected. 1 out 8 documents printing…

You clicked your tongue, the corners of your lips curling up into a small triumphant grin. It was about damn time. The weight on the plush of the chair was lifted once you stood up from your desk, adjusting the hem of your skirt as you made your way to the printer athwart the office. You lean your back slightly against the table, and you open your phone to pass time.

F 0236113: Good morning. I’m sorry I didn’t reply right away, I was caught up with work. How are you now? M 0337411: I'm so sleepy. I can't stop thinking about last night.  F 0236113: Last night? M 0337411: Don't tell me you forgot... You're despicable

You attempt to stifle a giggle at the man's texts, your hand covering your mouth in an effort (though, it was in vain) to hide the huge grin growing on your face. You knew very well about stranger danger, but for some odd reason, whenever you open your phone, you always —somehow— get gravitated towards him. Of course, you had your cautions, but if you told Ren that this app wasn't at the least amusing, you'd certainly be a whole ass liar.

F 0236113: I'm kidding. How can I ever forget that? M 0337411: Of course you can't. Care to remind me who said that my voice turned her on last night?  F 0236113: ...Who's the despicable one, now? M 0337411: You're not denying it.

Shaking your head in amusement, you stuffed your phone back inside the pocket of your blazer and you grabbed the finished documents out of the machine, and organizing the sheets of paper with one hand while reaching out for the nearest stapler in the other. As much as you were enjoying your silence, it wasn't long before it had to be interrupted. In your peripheral vision, you could make out someone's hand placing a cup of coffee on the table, and your gaze snapped over to a familiar blond male — his sharp eyes making it much easier to identify the man. You held yourself back from rolling your eyes, and you feigned a smile towards your boss.

"You've been working extra hard these days, Y/N." said Naoya. "Here, I got you one of your favourites."

"Thank you, Mr. Zen'in." You thanked the male as you grabbed the cup, it was your one of your favourites — one that he'd always get you back when you used to be together. "I was just about to hand you these documents."

You handed your boss the finished documents, ready to excuse yourself back to your desk.

"Hold on," Naoya said, "we still have some things to discuss."

What’s even there to discuss? You scoffed in your mind. Beyond a doubt, there was the slightest bit of hesitance into making your decision — however, you were more curious than you were cautious or nervous at this point.

"Okay," you said, smiling softly at the man. "What is it that you want to talk about, hm?"

Your soft words were laced with some form of venom, your eyes staring at the man expectantly.

"We can talk about it in my office," said Naoya before muttering, "follow me."

You followed Naoya compliantly, however, you couldn't ignore the unbearable tension filling the air between the both of you.  To be completely honest, you were beginning to regret even agreeing to follow him. Even if he had many things to discuss with you, what exactly could you reply to him with? Should you just stare at him and smile? Whilst rehearsing lines of excuses in your mind, you found yourself in his office, already seated on the sofa across from him.

"You moved on quite quickly," was the first thing Naoya uttered, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen you. "You already talking to someone new?"

"I honestly thought that our conversation would be work-related, was my judgement wrong? Besides, whether or not I moved on shouldn't be a concern to you." You replied, your usual (fake) soft tone now replaced with a certain sternness.

Naoya clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. The usual friendly, charismatic facade that he had always kept on eventually melted off -- his imperturable expression now plastered across his face. He raised an eyebrow towards you, his gaze locked onto yours with such intensity — at first glance, anyone could've easily mistaken it as some ardent desire.

"Is there anything else that you want to tell me?" You questioned him. "If not, I can just leave."

"You know, many days were spent with me wondering what went wrong between us to make you leave." He said before standing up from his couch, inching his way towards you. This ignorant fool. How could he act so stupid, unknowing of what caused the downfall of your relationship. He lowered himself, his eyes meeting your evidently vexed gaze.

"I missed you," he confessed, and you lightly scoffed at his words.

"Naoya," you said his name, your voice harsh, "everything was what went wrong in this relationship. You're my boss. There was no hope for the both of us -- I was practically invisible to you unless you needed something from me. Tell me this, Naoya, do you really mean it when you say you miss me? Or do you miss the woman that was easily wrapped around your finger?"

Naoya stared at you, shocked at your words before his lips curled up into a small smirk. A small chuckle left his lips, laced with contempt. “Now, what are you trying to say, Y/N?”

“What I’m saying is, Mr. Zen’in, don’t spout shit you obviously don’t mean. Besides, it appears to me that someone new caught your eye. Emi, was it?”

The mention of Emi was genuinely impulsive on your part, but you obviously had your suspicions with how easily he’d get swayed by her, and how fixated she was on the mere topic of the Zen’in heir, as well as how you noticed how close they’d been getting prior to the breakup — but his reaction told you everything you needed to know and you chuckled quietly.

Naoya’s facial expressions dropped, it was almost cold. You knew all too well that this man had a knack for control, but that gave you even more of a reason to not waver underneath his cold gaze. You knew, coming into his office, that you were going to have to play quite a difficult game with this man. You had already grown a skin of steel (at least you hope you did) from the constant gaslighting you had to endure from him.

"Y/N," he said your name sternly, "what the hell are you even saying right now? That doesn't make any sense—"

"—I have nothing left to say towards you, Mr. Zen'in." You said while smiling apathetically at the blond male, who seemed visibly displeased at your words. "Were you not even curious as to where I might've went this past week?"

No, not really. Over the course of time chasing after this man's love and affection, you soon realized that trying to save a relationship with a man who wouldn't even bother with you was straight up pointless. Over the course of time chasing after this man's love and affection, you realized that you no longer wanted to be concerned with him.

You heaved a sigh, shaking your head as you stood up from the sofa, making your way towards the door.

"I'll take my leave now, talking about this will only bring us nowhere. I suggest we continue acting like nothing happened between us — work will be easier for us that way.”

The Zen'in heir opened his mouth to retort, but no words could come out of his throat. He was a man who had grown accustomed to getting things his way throughout his twenty seven years of living, and to say that a mere employee could cast such an effect on him--there were many phrases that were forming in his mind, but he relented, once again.

Once again, he watched your figure getting farther away from the sofa, your hand reaching out of the door.

There was no way in hell that you’d allow to cross paths with him, or any man like him. Your relationship with him was awfully hot and cold — one day, he’d invite you to a hotel room under a false name, and shower you in his so called ‘love’, and the next day he’d treat you like you had never existed, flirting with all the other women who worked higher up in the hierarchy all the whilst giving you false reassurances. However, you knew far too well that your status could never satiate the man’s hunger for climbing up in the social ladder. All the fake love he gave you, and all the time and energy wasted on him — no matter what he chose to do next, for sure wouldn’t affect you.

You attempted to hide your shaky breaths. You had bursted out like that — not only towards your ex-boyfriend, but your boss. With slightly trembling hands, you twist the knob open, ready to dart out of the office and make a beeline towards the exit.

The door swung open, and rather than leaving immediately, you found yourself frozen in the doorway as you stare into bright, cerulean eyes with your watery ones.

"Oh? Am I interrupting something?"

Your eyes widened. That voice — his voice. Perhaps you were just overthinking, but it sounded all too familiar. No, you had to be overthinking. His ivory locks framed his pale face, his business formal attire adorning his tall, lean frame — his features, in general, were a literal godsend. He appeared incredibly rich and powerful, much like your boss, the Zen'in Naoya — if not, maybe even more. You mentally smacked yourself, how could you possibly make such baseless assumptions towards a man you had just seen.

"Gojo Satoru," Naoya said, his voice laced with obvious annoyance. "You should've texted me that you were arriving earlier than usual.”

Almost immediately, you moved out of the way, sending the tall man a small smile of acknowledgement as he entered the room. The white-haired male leaned against the wall beside you, rather than getting himself comfortable on the exorbitant-priced furniture.

“Sorry, sorry,” the man whose name was Satoru apologized weakly; his tone almost apathetic, “my flight arrived way earlier, and I was bored, so why not pass some time?”

The blond male tutted in response, shaking his head towards Satoru before darting his gaze over to you, whom in which made a discrete attempt to escape his office. “L/N,” Naoya called out your last name, his lips curled into a grin, “do you have time to show Gojo around the building?”

It was evident that Naoya wanted nothing to do with his guest, it was all plastered across his face.

Why couldn’t he do it himself? Why couldn't he call his secretary himself? You pondered to yourself as you returned the plastic smile, hoping that Naoya could see the vein that popped on your temple. You weren't in the mood to retaliate any longer, though. If this meant that you could leave his office, then it was fine.

"Yeah, of course." You switched your attention to the taller male, "Is there anywhere in the building that you haven’t seen yet?”

Gojo stared at you, almost surprised, for a moment before grinning. There was something in his gaze that made you want to shrivel up into a ball. As much as you wished to deny these intrusive thoughts that were lingering in the back of your mind, there was simply no way that he could be the stranger that you spoke to. However, the way he spoke — his pronunciation, his tone, the way he dragged his words, his voice — it was all too similar.

“Let’s get out of this office first, and then I’ll tell you.” Gojo said, smirking before shifting his gaze towards the glaring Zen’in.

The walk down the hallway was dreadfully silent. For a man like him who was verbose from the past minute, he was almost silent as you both headed for the elevator. “Mr. Gojo,” you said, breaking the silence, “is this your first time in the building?”

“Yeah,” he replied almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you to speak. “By the way, your name is L/N…?”

“Y/N,” you finished, your pointer finger pressed firmly against the ‘up’ button. Then started the waiting game.

“Oh, Y/N.” Gojo repeated your name, his lips curling up into a small grin. “You know, you sound awfully familiar for someone that I’ve just met.”

“That’s interesting,” you said, your voice suddenly going quiet underneath his cerulean gaze. This awkwardness and tension lingering in the air was going to be the cause of your demise, you swore to yourself.

“Ahem—I suppose you don’t know where the meeting will be held later,” you said quickly, your voice getting higher in pitch, “there’s this huge conference room on the tenth floor, I’ll lead you to it.”

“No need to be so tense,” Gojo laughed, “I promise I don’t bite. So, speak normally with me, like how you would with a friend.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, if someone found you speaking informally to someone as high up in the business hierarchy such as him, they would definitely get the wrong idea, and the possibilities of rumours spreading in the office were high. Rumours were always a pain in the ass to deal with, so you really didn’t want to risk it.

“I still have to be careful, Mr. Gojo.” You smiled at the male. “It wouldn’t be a good look for me if I’m seen being informal towards you inside the building.”

“Will you be less tense with me if we talk outside the building, then?”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Mr. Gojo.”

The ding! coming from the elevator instantly broke you out of your thoughts, rushing into the empty space while uttering a quiet, “Come in,” towards the business man.

You stood across from Gojo, your eyes darting across the space — looking at anything, just anything besides him. You crossed your arms close to your chest, almost as if it could give you extra warmth aside from your blazer. Despite after crossing paths with him, you could already tell that Gojo Satoru was an unpredictable man. It was killing you.

You snapped your gaze towards the little screen above the sliding door, watching as the number slowly increased while the elevator lifted higher and higher. Six more floors to go.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me making a phone call.” Gojo said in a singsang tone, his large hand pulling out his phone out of the pocket of his trousers.

“Go ahead,” you muttered out, sparing the man a quick smile before your attention returned to the screen above the elevator door. Three more floors to go.

Just as you were about to relax, closing your eyes while waiting for the elevator to reach the tenth floor — you felt your phone violently vibrate inside your pocket, and shortly after, the HeartChat app ringtone echoed in the silent space. You felt your sweat run cold, rushing to get your phone out. Glancing up at the white haired male, you realized he had been staring at you the whole time with the phone in his hand, amused.

M 0337411 is calling… [accept | decline ]

All those intrusive thoughts that you tried so hard to ignore were right, after all.

You were simply going to die of embarrassment.

“What a coincidence. So, I was right after all. As soon as I heard your cute voice I automatically knew it was you.”

Everything was literally thrown at you today—first, having to deal with your ex (who wasn’t aware in the slightest clue with what he did wrong) and second, being put into the corner of the elevator with Gojo Satoru, as known as the stranger you had phone sex with. You didn’t have a mirror with you to know what kind of expression you were making in that moment, but you for sure felt an overwhelming surge of mortification.

Out of all days, it had to be the day after — especially when the memories of the night before were still fresh in your mind.

Out of all people, it had to be Gojo Satoru, the new man in the building.

“And given your reaction,” Gojo said, gently tilting your chin to meet his eyes; a hint of amusement present in his gaze, “you also recognize me.”

You swore you were going to melt, not only from embarrassment but, as ashamed as you were to admit it, him — it was even more embarrassing as you had grown aware of the wetness between your legs accumulating, only hidden by your black pencil skirt. Gojo Satoru, he truly was a sight to behold given his godsend features and his voice. The arousal that you had tried to suppress from last night slowly returns — all those lewd thoughts you had about the stranger, and he was there — within your reach.

“Not here,” you whispered, lightly smacking the man’s hand of your face. The look of chagrin was plastered all across your face, your cheeks stained with a bright incarnadine hue and your eyes darting away from his. He found it utterly adorable. “The door’s going to open any moment now.”

Right as you said that, the door opened—and thank god there was no one waiting on the other side of the door. There would simply be zero explanation that would be able to save you — his body was close to yours as you were nearly pressed in the corner of the elevator and hot, unbearable tension flooded the thick air.

“A-Anyways,” you stammered out, rushing out of the confines of the elevator, “to the conference room, it’s uh— this way. If you’ll follow me…”

Gojo followed suit, walking in a languid pace as he watched you speed-walk down the hall before stopping in front of a large opaque grey double door You pushed it open, signalling the man to enter.

Shortly after, you entered the room. “To be honest, I never stepped foot inside this room before—until today, that is.”

You traced the tips of your fingers along the sides of the large wooden table, your eyes scanning your surroundings. It actually looked really nice and clean. It was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes, too.

“Are you here for a business project with Mr. Zen’in?”

“I suppose you can say that, but I’m mainly here to speak with Zen’in Naobito .”

“Ah, the CEO then.”

“That’s correct.”

Then returned the silence, as well as the growing tension in the air. Just you were about to turn around and open the door, a strong hand stops you in your tracks. “Wait,” Gojo grabbed your attention, pulling you closer so you could face him.

You frantically glanced toward the door, afraid that someone could walk in.

The tension between the both of you was so strong, anyone could've cut it down with a knife, but there'd still be some struggle to it. You could barely breath; the air between the both of you felt warm, and only increased in temperature the longer you stayed in the room.

“This room will be empty for hour and a half before they arrive and start the meeting,” he assured you before leaning his face closer to your ear, his breath hot as he continued to speak. "Besides I still couldn't help but think about last night. Does last night still play fresh in your mind?"

Oh, Lord. You swallowed your saliva, the warmth in your cheeks quickly returning as you stared at Gojo with a flustered expression plastered all across your face. He pulled you closer, and you didn't fight against it; the pleasant smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, you could grow addicted to it.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it all," you replied, your voice quiet.

That was enough of an answer for him. "Good," he said, grinning.

You couldn't ignore the utter lack of distance between both your bodies; your chest pressed against his with his one arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand caressing your chin — tilting your head slightly while he silently examined your lips. You also took this as a chance to stare at his features up close, and you were right when you told yourself that he was blessed by the gods and your eyes lingered to his lips; they looked so soft, it almost made you wonder what it'd feel and taste like. You didn't want him to go.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked you, however, there was something in his azure eyes that begged you to tell him to keep going — there was a certain desperation to it. You looked at Gojo with a pleading gaze, however you also appeared to be dazed by his baritone voice, your lips trailing down to his lips.

"Kiss me," you told him, your voice dripping with arousal.

There was a stifled groan coming from the man before he pulled your face to his, his lips devouring yours. His lips tasted of honey, sweet and addicting; his hand pressed strongly against the small of your back as he walked you against the table. Large hands played with the hem of your skirt while you softly moaned in his mouth, your hands playing with the soft cushion of his ivory locks.

All rational thoughts had slipped out of your mind like butter, and all that took over was the pent up sexual desire and pure arousal.

You both briefly pulled away, a string of saliva was connected from both your lips.

“What if someone walks in on us?” You questioned the male, your voice nearly breathless.

“Don’t worry, sweets. The doors are locked, and room’s soundproof too.” Gojo replied, his hands slowly caressing up your skirt, “I’m surprised that no one hid the remote, too.”

"And fuck, have you seen yourself in the mirror? It's almost like you're begging to be fucked by me." He said, relishing the sight of your flushed face with your eyes staring up at him in wanton, as well as your cleavage firmly pressed pressed against his chest; the first few buttons had already gotten undone, revealing your black lace bra.

You briefly remembered telling him about how he sounded so different compared from how he texted when you first called him, and now that you were face to face with him — you soon came to realize that whatever words he spat out of his mouth were nothing but prurient, with you at least.

“Dirty girl, we just met and you’re already giving me that look. We’re in the conference room, too.” Gojo continued to tease, the tip of his finger playing with the waistband of your panties.

“It’s your fault,” you bit back playfully, “I bet you’ve kissed many women to be that good at kissing.”

Gojo immediately laughed at your response, “I’m honoured, but this is actually my first.”

“T-That's bullshit,” you said, surprised. “there’s no way that this is your first—Ah!”

Your own words got cut off by a surprised gasp, your head thrown back as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. He had pushed the slick fabric aside, and he easily eased a large finger inside your heat. Fuck. His fingers were far more better than you could’ve ever imagined — they were slender, yet girthy. His one finger could stretch you out more than your own two fingers could. Gojo eased his middle finger inside and fuck, was he about to cum by the way your pussy greedily took him in.

“Ho-ly shit, sweets. So fucking wet that my fingers just keep getting sucked back in.” He said through gritted teeth, a hoarse chuckle slipping past his throat.

You tried to muffle your moans, covering your trembling mouth with both your hands as you succumbed to the pleasure that this man was giving you. You, for sure, had gone crazy — crazy to the max. Just earlier you were worried about getting caught being informal with him, but here you were, getting your pussy fingered by him in the conference room. Not only that, that man currently working his fingers into you, Satoru Gojo, was the stranger you had phone sex with last night. You were absolutely insane.

His pace quickened — it was almost merciless, his thumb eventually joining into the mix to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves; the sounds of your drenched pussy being absolutely ravished by his filled the room, along with your muffled whimpers. With his empty hand, he grabbed both your hands and held them in a vice grip, dragging them away from your lips. "Hearing you moan in person is so fucking hot. I want to hear more."

And if he wasn’t rough with his fingers before, he definitely was now; desperately trying to draw all sorts of sounds from you — from the squelch of your wet pussy to your pretty moans, he wanted more. You, however, were completely writhing underneath his grip; your body sensitive from how well he was treating your needy hole. You could feel yourself coming close, the taste of orgasm was merely on the tip of your tongue, and all you could think about was how well his fingers were stretching you out. It wasn’t long before you felt the coil in your stomach tighten, and Gojo curled his fingers — making contact with the rough, spongy skin that made your toes curl. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his — moaning his last name softly as you rode out your first orgasm. Gojo groaned along with you, muttering a line of praises as he slowly pushed his fingers in and out, relishing the aftermath of your release; coated with your juices.

Gojo’s patience was already thin, as you could say, it was treading on thin ice.

"Fuuck, you're so hot — you're gonna make me cum, I swear." rasped Gojo, his breath hot on your ear. He pressed lingering kisses across your neck while his hands traveled to your clothed breasts, giving them a light squeeze, "I just want to eat you up."

With how seductive his voice sounded, you were convinced that you were going to cum for the second time; right there, and then.

With one swift movement, he pulled your skirt down (along with your drenched underwear), threw the thin pieces of fabric at his side and got himself levelled with your pussy, now all bare for him to savour. His mouth watered at the sight; he could see how your hole pulsed, needing something to fill it back in. God, he needed to fuck you.

“You feeling shy now, hm?” Gojo teased, his eyes snapped over to your flustered ones.

You’ve never felt so exposed before, your legs spread wide apart as you leaned further back against the table— you were completely under the mercy of this man, and it only made you further aroused as a result. Something about doing something so lewd in the conference room, at your workplace, let alone with a stranger as handsome as he was — you’ve never felt so thrilled. You were probably going to smack yourself later for being so reckless and irresponsible, but right here at this moment, you were going to savour every sensation; his touch, his taste, his voice, everything.

Without ever breaking eye contact with you, he licked a long stripe of saliva over your already drenched folds and your hips automatically bucked up at the pleasure. He watched as you writhed underneath his touch, a shuddering breath leaving your swollen lips. You were truly a sight to behold, and if it weren’t for the location, he would’ve had you completely naked for him. Thoughts of you never ceased to part from his mind, from hearing your voice to mere imaginations of fucking you senseless. Needless to say, his imaginations could never ever compare to what was unfolding before him.

He let out a satisfied hum against your folds, emitting light vibrations through your veins, just before he dug his face deeper in between your legs — it was almost as if this man was starved; his tongue and lips greedily sucking onto your clit, twirling the sensitive bud around with the tip of his tongue. You shivered against his touch, "G-Gojo--Fuck."

"Satoru," Gojo corrected you for a moment before returning to his ministrations, "wanna hear you say my name."

This time, he stuck his tongue inside your pussy — his finger returning to rub on your clit.

"Satoru," you moaned his name, "fuck, that feels so good."

Gojo moaned into your pussy in response, his actions only getting more messier and more carnal the more he tasted you — he was getting drunk from the mere taste of you.

It wasn't long before you felt your impending release, the second one at that, and you gripped your fingers tightly around Satoru's ivory locks, muttering out a line of curses and 'i'mcoming'imcomingi'mcoming—' as your body shook around his head.

"Good girl. Good fucking girl." You heard Satoru mumble out praises as he lapped up all your juices, relishing in the sweet scent and taste of pure arousal that dripped down his cerise lips. “You taste so fucking delicious, I was seriously about to cum.”

“Fuck,” he hissed to himself, and you could hear the sounds of his belt unclasping — dropping to the floor. He was growing even more needy for you, and his horniness level had honestly gone through the fucking roof at this point. All he wanted to do now was to fuck you senseless.

"Satoru," you muttered his name, voice laced with pure desire, "want you to put it in already."

“There’s no way I won’t fuck your pussy today,” replied Gojo, discarding his undergarment, and almost immediately, his erect cock sprung up and your mouth began to water at the girth and length. Just how was that going to fit inside you?

Your reaction didn't go by unnoticed by the ivory-haired male, and his voice got a little gentle. He rubbed his cock against your slick folds, and you both shuddered at the sensation. "You'll be okay, just relax. You can do that for me, yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded your head, almost a bit too frantically. Given the limited amount of time that you both had, you needed him inside now.

"Take a deep breath for me, 'kay?"

You complied to his words, closing your eyes as you inhaled deeply -- however, you nearly choked on your spit when only his tip entered. Satoru constantly gave you gentle reassurances; gently rubbing the sides of your hips, all while he pushed himself deeper into your walls. There was simply no way this was his first time, you thought to yourself silently — but all your thoughts instantly turned into mush once he hit the hilt; his tip meeting your cervix. You moaned his name, your eyes slightly rolling back at the immense pleasure the man had been drowning you in.

Satoru groaned at the delightful sensation before chuckling through strained breaths, "See? It wasn't so hard."

He gave you a brief moment to recollect yourself, three seconds in fact, before he began to roll his hips against yours; pulling his cock back until the tip was barely inside, and he plunged back in. He did all this at an almost rapid pace, making your whole entire body turn into jelly.

"Look at your pussy, sucking me in so greedily when I just started to fuck you. Dirty girl." He rasped, his lips curled up into a grin and his gaze laserfocused on how your pussy was connected to him. It was taking everything in him not to cum right away, let alone cum inside you — but the sensations of your walls clamping tightly around his shaft was making it difficult to think straight.

He kept up with the relentless pace, relishing in the sweet sounds your wet pussy was making while he fucked you as well as your moans.

He could feel you tightening around even more around him, as if your pussy was trying to milk him dry. The pace of his thrusts began to stagger, and he could feel himself getting closer to his release, however, rather than keeping up with his pace, he slowed down. You snapped your gaze to the Satoru, confused.

"Don't worry princess, I just want to try something new right now."

Just as you were about to question him on what exactly he was planning to do, you gasped in surprise when he lifted you up from the table with ease; your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders as he aligned your pussy with his cock, and steadily, he dropped you down on his length. You both moaned in tandem at the sensation. He watched your face intently, how it scrunched together in immense pleasure, your mouth slightly agape as your lips spilled out a myriad of moans while he lifted you and dropped you on his cock at a steady rhythm.

"Ohfuckohfuck--'Toru, you're so deep." You whimpered, stuffing your head into the crook of his shoulders while he continued to plunge into you. His grip on your ass tightened as he began to pick up the pace, and your moans were continuously broken down each time he thrusted his cock into you. He was relentless, and he was already obsessed with how you clamped down so tightly around him. He could honestly never get enough of it -- of you. And, how he loved watching you getting dumb over his cock, hearing you jumble nonsense all while telling him how badly you needed his cock had definitely done a number on him.

The tightening coil sensation that reverberated in the depths of your stomach returned once more the longer the man had pleasured you and you dug your nails deeper into the man's shoulders. "I'm gonna cum, fuck Satoru, I'm so close...!"

"Fucking cum on my cock," Gojo ordered you, his voice was almost pleading, and he kept up the pace, squeezing his eyes tightly and groaning at how tight your walls were squeezing him. You let out a cry, arching your back and curling your toes, as you came around his cock; your juices creaming around his shaft. He gently brought you back down to the floor, but held the small of your back immediately when he noticed that you were about to lose your balance.

Cumming inside you could wait for another day, he thought to himself as he desperately rubbed his hand on his cock, his lips immediately diving into yours for a passionate kiss. Soft groans left his rose-tinted lips as he melded his mouth with yours. He could feel his abdomen growing tighter, his legs getting weaker, and his mind getting blank. With a deep, strained moan slipping past the man's throat, he painted your thighs white with his seed.

Heavy breaths filled the room, and then came the soft chuckles.

“I’d like to say we’re really compatible,” said Gojo, pressing a soft kiss against your temple before languidly pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers; cleaning the mess he had made on your skin. “Don’t you agree, Y/N?”

You were far too dazed to comprehend most of the words that spilled from Gojo’s mouth, so you chose to nod your head in response to the man’s question. Gojo was quite the gentleman, upon realizing that your legs still felt weak and wobbled, he immediately took action — helping you slide your skirt back on while stuffing your drenched panties in his trousers (to which you gave him a light smack on the shoulder, but he didn’t mind honestly), buttoned your shirt back up, and helped put your blazer back on; he did all that while muttering sweet praises in your ear, almost tickling the skin. Your hair was still a mess, though, and your lips still appeared to be swollen. Gojo ran his fingers through your locks, making a pathetic attempt at fixing your hair. At least he tried, though. He shortly fixed his appearance after; all he did was clasp his belt back on, fix his attire, and ruffle his ivory locks — all within a minute.

“We still have fourty-five minutes left to spare.” Satoru said, staring at his phone screen before he shoved it back inside his pocket (not where your panties are, though). “We should head out now before someone tries to get in.”

“You’re a liar,” you said weakly, your voice almost breathless, “there’s no way that this is your first.”

Satoru chuckled, “Again, I’m honoured, but you’re my first.”

He grabbed the tiny remote and pressed the button, thus unlocking the double-doors. You didn’t really feel the need to ask him why he seemed so familiar with the conference room as you were heavily fixated on his face; his cerulean eyes gazing into yours, a bright smile painted on his pale visage.

“Let me take you out sometime,” Gojo blurted out. “You’re totally my type, and I want us to get to know each other better.”

“And how do I know that you don’t say that to other women using that app?”

“You were the first and only one I texted on the app,” Gojo replied, “and we are alike in so many aspects — especially our compatibility in sex.“

You rolled your eyes jokingly, before smiling at the male. “Okay then, I accept your offer. You know, you’re also my type.”

“And,” Gojo added, “we both get turned on by each other’s voices.”

“Let’s go,” you shrugged off the chuckling male, opening the double-door. Fortunately enough, there was no one present in the halls and there was still plenty of time before the meeting took place.

“Mr. Gojo,” you spoke to him formally, however there was a tint of teasing in your voice as his name spilled out of your lips like honey. “Anywhere else you’d like to go?”

“You. Me. My place, or yours.”

“You— I’m talking about if there’s anything else you’re not familiar with in the building.” You whispered harshly. “And, watch your volume!”

It had been a week since your last tryst with the Gojo Satoru, and needless to say, talking to him was a breath of fresh air. HeartChat switched over to SMS and there came the video calls. Even as promised, he brought you out to his favourite restaurants and cafés. Over the course of those past few days, you learned many things about the handsome man (aka god’s favourite), and he learned many things about you. For starters:

He was the chief executive officer of GOJO Tech, he was once the heir, but it wasn’t too long before his father decided to give him the role at the age of 24 (he’s now 28), and since then, business had been booming for the Gojo clan.

His relationship with the Gojo clan wasn’t the best — despite him being the new head of the clan and CEO, some members were constantly preying on his demise. He didn’t really care, though.

He hated the taste of alcohol — he absolutely despised it. He drank it once during a party and immediately “chased” it with a mouthful of strawberry cake. You later questioned him if he really knew what a chaser was.

His first time having phone sex was with you, he tried acting confident since it also was your first.

He was basically good at everything he did—everything that would normally be strenuous or difficult would always appear to be easy on him.

Nevertheless, there were some things that remained unchanged, and that was the phone sex that you both subconsciously agreed to do nightly, as if it was some sort of promise.

You weren’t going to lie, but you nearly forgot about the drinking party with your colleagues — once you remembered, you immediately invited Gojo to accompany you (it was also at that moment where you remembered that he didn’t drink alcohol). Surprisingly, he agreed to come along, and even offered to give you a ride there.

So there you were in the restaurant, seated near the end of the table with Gojo beside you while the rest of your colleagues chattered loudly, it was awfully obvious that there had been alcohol in their system. You had already downed a glass of beer, and you could feel your stomach and cheeks steadily growing warmer. You turned over to Gojo, who busied himself in devouring all the food, even ordering for several new plates whilst your colleagues cheered on for him in a drunken haste. You had almost forgotten point number 6 — Not only was Gojo Satoru a dessert fanatic, he was also a huge foodie.

Emi made her way towards the end of table, where you and Gojo were seated; bottle of beer and sake in her hands. There was absolutely no denying how attractive she was, her eyes appeared innocent yet they relayed something far more different.

“I’m surprised that Mr. Gojo came along,” Emi began, smiling softly as gave the man beside you a playful stare; swiftly ignoring your presence. “I’ve heard that you’ve been incredibly busy these days. So, I’m glad. Do you mind if I pour you a drink?”

“Nah, it’s alright. I don’t drink those kind of stuff.” Gojo waved her off, sparing her a quick and friendly smile.

“Oh! By the way, did you and Y/N arrive together? I never expected you two to be so close, especially at work, considering how you just arrived here less than a week ago.” questioned Emi, tilting her head to one side while staring at him, feigning innocence. This irked you a little, as you could never tell what she was thinking behind those shy and innocent eyes of hers.

“I wonder how that could be,” she trailed off even further, her voice was loud enough so that a couple of colleagues could hear — loud enough for Zen’in Naoya to hear.

Flower of the office, my ass.

You could even feel your ex glaring daggers at both your directions. You took a large gulp out of your glass of beer while Gojo laughed loudly.

“My, you’re a curious one alright.” He said in between chuckles. “We simply crossed—”

“Satoru and I are currently seeing each other,” you cut him off, pointing your nearly empty glass towards Emi’s direction; your cheeks warm from the alcohol streaming in your veins. “Is that enough to make you, you know, mind your business?”

Haruto, Himari, and Ren, who all sat across from you, collectively choked on their drinks, staring at you in utter shock. They all gave you a look that basically screamed, ‘You bitch, at least catch us up!’

“O-Oh,” Emi said, her voice getting quieter while she still feigned a smile, “I’m happy for you both, then. You two make a cute pair.”

“I know we do,” Gojo said, pulling your shoulder closer to his while laughing. His eyes later snapped over to Naoya, who he could tell was trying his hardest to hide his disdain; his eyes were narrowed and his jaw tensed. Not before long, he stood up from his spot and briefly excused himself — reasoning was that he needed some fresh air. Shortly after, Emi followed his trail, and the party resumed like normal.

It was a silent gesture, but you gently squeezed his hands underneath the table as you stared into his eyes; his face still flushed from the earlier commotion — you had been reckless, once again. To your surprise, he squeezed your hand back immediately, only bringing both your hands onto the table, now visible for everyone to see. He gave you a reassuring smile before leaning in to press a soft kiss on your knuckles. The heat on your face only intensified at his display of affection, your cheeks turning scarlet.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered softly, “I did something really reckless, and I didn’t ask you if you were alright with having our relationship out in the open like that.”

“Y/N,” Satoru said, his voice quiet and gentle, “I didn’t ask you out just so I could keep you as a secret. I’ll show you off as much as I want, show everyone that you’re my woman.”

“I swear, Satoru, it’s always you and your words.” You mumbled, covering your flushed face with the palms of your hands.

“You mean voice,” he teased.

“… Shut up.”

Not long after that, perhaps thirty minutes, you bid your goodbyes to your colleagues, leaving the restaurant side by side with Gojo — making a beeline towards the car. Once you both entered, you let all your desires run loose; your lips locked against his, teeth clashing against one another, and heavy breaths filled the tight vicinity. The air quickly grew hot, and the kisses further intensified with fervour.

“W-Wait, Satoru,” you mumbled his name in his lips, your grip on his black dress shirt tightening.

He pulled away, and god, did he look ethereal underneath the moonlight; his white strands shone like silver, his eyes only glowed brighter in the darkness. “What is it, sweets?”

“Let’s not do it here,” you said softly, looking up at him with desperate eyes. “Let’s do it at my place.”

Gojo Satoru never turned his engine on so quickly until now, driving his lamborghini like he was a man on a mission.

The air grew warm the very moment you both stepped into your apartment, lips locked onto each other and arms wrapped around one another. Soft moans left your lips as you could feel the man’s pent up desire grinding against your hips, rubbing deliciously against your clothed heat.

“Your bed,” there was a certain urgency in his voice as he rasped against your lips, and grabbing his large hands, you both rushed to the bedroom. Your back met with the soft plush of the mattress, further sinking in as Satoru also applied his weight, his lips getting a taste of yours for the nth time. His hands instantly pushing up your shirt, his hands traveling up to your your breasts; his fingers sliding underneath the pads of your bra to tweak your little buds. You stifled a soft whimper, your fingers locked in his ivory locks.

Eventually he slid your shirt up, and you helped make go by things faster by unclasping your bra. He took in the moment to appreciate the sight of your nude breasts, a hitched breath leaving his throat while he stared. Eventually, he dove in and showed love to both your mounds; coating your nipples with his saliva as he licked and sucked, leaving a small trail of hickies along your soft skin.

"Satoru," you said his name in a soft murmur, your cheeks warm and scarlet. He hummed in response whilst he continued to play with your tits, his large hands squeezing the soft mounds. In a treacherous pace, he slowly trailed his kisses down your breasts to your lower abdomen. “You’re so cute,” he said in a teasing tone, “you’re already so sensitive to my touch, and I haven’t even started with you.”

He swiftly pulled your skirt down, immediately chuckling at the damped mess you hid in between your legs.

"You're so wet," he mumbled quietly as his arousal immediately went straight towards his dick. He drew a finger across your folds, which were only covered by the thin dampened fabric. With nimble hands, he slid off the fabric off effortlessly, and without wasting time, he inserted two fingers inside -- groaning at how easily he slid in.

He started out the pace with a punishing speed, your toes immediately curling at the sensation as you squealed in unadulterated pleasure. You rolled your eyes back as you drowned in the delightful sensations, arching your back whilst rolling your hips to meet his fingers. It wasn’t until he began to curl his fingers that the volume of your moans began to increase. He pushed your legs farther apart, digging his fingers deeper; eliciting more whimpers and wanton moans that slipped out of your lips effortlessly.

“You close?” He teased you, and you nodded your head frantically in response. He could very well tell how close you were to your orgasm, judging by the way your walls fluttered around his fingers.

“Cum for me then,” he said, and that was all it took for you to succumb to your release, your pussy juices perfectly coating his two fingers. "Good girl," he gave you his praise, his voice deep and heavy.

His fingers parted away from your skin, briefly, before he began to slowly unbutton his midnight dress shirt, revealing his toned muscles and abdomen-- all while staring down at you with a carnal daze. "Like what you see?"

You stared up to meet his eyes, flustered. "Of course, why would I not? You look so... hot. If the word hot and sexy was a person, I feel like it'd be you."

"Is this your way of flirting, cutie?" Gojo said in a teasing tone, his lips curled up into a playful smirk while he unclasped his belt and unzipped his trousers, revealing his boxers and the awfully huge tent that hid beneath the fabric. God, he is so sexy.

"... I'm taking it back now." You said quietly in a stubborn tone.

"You won't," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "your mouth is literally drooling for me, and even more so when..."

He dragged his words out while he slowly slipped his boxers off, revealing the angry red tip leaking with his pre-cum. Of course he ended up being right, seeing how you stared at his cock with hearts in your eyes.

"Okay cutie! Get on your knees and ass up."

Gojo loved how easily you complied to his commands -- one second you'd show him a little bit of sass and the next second you were begging for his dick. He grinned at the sight of your ass and back arched, your slick juices dripping off your pussy -- this was all for him, just for him. A loud smack resonated in the room when he slapped your ass and played with it, absolutely loving how it jiggled with every movement his hand made with it.

However, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed you, he wanted you — so, so badly. Rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds, he relished in the sight of your body writhing beneath his grasp; being all desperate and needy for his cock.

It wasn't long before the loud sounds of his cock fucking into your pussy filled the bedroom, your loud moans muffled by the pillows you stuffed your head into. All that you could feel at that moment was pure, unadulterated pleasure; he was hitting all the right spots and his moans were music to your ears.

"Fuck, I've always thought about how I'd fuck you like this." Gojo moaned. "You're gripping onto me so fuckin' tight I might just cum."

A loud cry left your lips when Gojo decided to wrap his arms around you, pulling your body closer to his; his chest pressed firmly against your back as he continued to fuck into you whilst his hand traveled down to your center, lazily rubbing circles on your clit.

"O-Oh—fuck—'Toru —Ahn!" You would moan his name loudly while your body shook under his manipulation.

"Y/N," Gojo said your name breathlessly, all the whilst fucking you dumb on your bed, "be my girlfriend— I want you to be all mine."

"Y-Yes, yes, yes —'Toru," you said in between gasps and moans, "I wanna be all yours. O-Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum — I'm gonna cum--!"

Gojo mumbled a bunch of praises towards you as you rode out your orgasm, your chest rising and sinking as you attempted to control your heavy breaths while he gently rubbed your hips with his thumb. "You're such a good girl," he leaned over to press a soft kiss over the back of your head.

"You still have some energy, right?" He questioned you, and you now found yourself laying underneath the male; your legs both hoisted up on his shoulders. You nodded your head, staring at Gojo with a heavy-lidded gaze, and his eyes were blown with lust and desire. He pressed a soft kiss to your ankle before staring back down at you with a teasing smile.

"Good, because I'm nowhere near done."

(You definitely made sure to keep a mental note to thank Ren for getting you into the app)

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 !

It was a day after your your risqué rendezvous with Gojo Satoru, who you later came to realize was the stranger you engaged sexual activities with over the phone, on HeartChat — the app that no one other than your childhood friend and coworker, Ren, had downloaded on your phone.

“So,” Ren began, wiggling her eyebrows as she pointed at the phone you were holding in your hand. “How was it? It’s fun isn’t it?”

You and Ren were seated on the bench, eating lunch outside during your break. Normally you’d stay indoors, but the following information you were going to share to her were meant for her ears only — since she was the one who recommended this app, after all. Needless to say, Ren was more than thrilled for you to spill the details.

“You never told me that the app was meant for different purposes,” you said, raising a small brow towards your friend.

“I mean, I only use the app to troll around with other men. Nothing too serious, you know?” Ren said before her face quickly dropped. “Unless…? What exactly did you do, Y/N?”

“I…” you began, but you paused. “You better not tell this to another soul, I swear.”

“Riko?”

“Obviously we’ll catch Riko up from this after her honeymoon, but no one else! Promise?”

“You’re making me nervous, Y/N.”

“I had phone sex,” you admitted. Ren’s face immediately turned scarlet, looking at you — shocked. “No way,” she mumbled before she bursted out laughing. “No fucking way. Those type of things only happen in those spicy novels.”

“Oh, you won’t believe what happened next.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

“Don’t react loudly, okay?”

“I promise.”

“I had sex with him the next day.”

A choked out "What?!" escaped your friend's lips.

If Ren wasn’t red enough just moments before, then she definitely was now.

“So… are you going to tell me who it is or…?”

“Nah, it’s a secret.”

“... Babe, what other secret could possibly be more shocking than what you just told me?”

So, colour Ren surprised once she added two and two together when you had confessed that you and The Gojo Satoru were seeing each other a week later.

© 𝟔𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 do not copy, repost, or translate my works on any platform.

[cherryxbooo]

You deserve only the best

Summary: Y/n falls for her best friend Carlos, but after he introduces his new lover, she discovers his true intentions. Heartbroken, she tries to move on.

Reader x Carlos Sainz

Genre: fluff/angst

Carlos Sainz had been my best friend for as long as I could remember.

We shared everything, inside jokes, moments of laughter, and a bond that felt unbreakable.

For years, we had been inseparable. Yet, for just as long, I had harbored feelings for him that I had kept hidden.

The truth was, I was in love with him, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I was terrified of ruining our friendship, which meant the world to me.

So, I stayed silent, even as my heart would race whenever he would act affectionate toward me, kissing my cheek, calling me pet names like "mi amor" or "querida," or giving me those long, lingering glances that made me believe he might feel the same.

It was complicated, especially when he’d kissed me a few times, nothing too serious, but enough to leave me wondering if something more could come from it.

I wanted to believe that he felt the same, but I was too afraid to make the first move, too afraid of pushing him away.

Then, one fateful day, everything changed.

We were at the paddock during one of his races.

The excitement in the air was palpable, the sound of engines roaring, the buzz of fans, the rush of adrenaline.

It was a typical race day, but something caught my eye that I hadn’t expected to see, Carlos talking to a girl.

A random girl. She was standing next to him, laughing, clearly comfortable in his presence.

I felt a twinge of jealousy course through me as I watched them. I didn’t know who she was, but something about the way they were standing so close made my stomach twist.

I immediately tried to push the feeling aside, but it was impossible. I needed answers.

I couldn’t just ignore it, so I approached Lando, who had become one of my closest friends over time.

I figured he might know who she was.

“Hey, Lando,” I began, trying to sound casual. “Do you know who that girl is? The one with Carlos?”

Lando glanced over, then shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve seen her before. Why? You don’t like her or something?”

I gave a small laugh, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “No, I’m just curious.”

Lando gave me a knowing look but didn’t push further. “You should ask Carlos, though. He’ll tell you.”

I nodded, though my mind was already racing.

I made my way back to the Ferrari garage, trying to shake the knot in my stomach.

I wasn’t ready to confront him, but I had to. I needed answers.

When I got there, Carlos spotted me right away. “Y/N!” he called out, a wide smile lighting up his face.

He waved me over, and I walked toward him, hoping to mask the turmoil inside me.

As soon as I got closer, he introduced the girl who had been standing next to him earlier.

“This is Sofia,” Carlos said, his voice filled with warmth. “My girlfriend.”

The ground seemed to fall out from under me. My heart sank into my stomach, and for a moment, I couldn’t find my breath.

My hands suddenly felt clammy, and I forced myself to smile, though it felt more like a grimace.

“Nice to meet you, Sofia,” I said, my voice steady, even though I felt anything but.

I turned quickly, excusing myself from their presence, and walked away before they could see the hurt that flashed across my face.

I barely made it to the restroom before the tears started falling.

I locked myself in a stall, letting my emotions spill out.

Why had I been so foolish to believe that Carlos could feel the same? I had spent so much time hiding my feelings, convincing myself that he might care for me, but here he was, with a new girlfriend.

But why would he lead me on? Kiss me, hug me, cuddle me, give me pet names?

Was it because I was too naive which made him take advantage of me?

Clearly.

He had never given me any reason to think otherwise, he had always been affectionate, always flirted, but it was all in my head, wasn’t it?

He never saw me as more than a friend. Just as someone to pass time with.

After a few minutes of crying, I wiped my face, took a deep breath, and told myself to stop.

Carlos didn’t deserve my tears. I wasn’t his girlfriend. I had no right to feel like this.

I walked out of the restroom, determined to leave the paddock. I couldn’t bear to stay and watch him with her.

I needed to put myself first.

As I walked toward the exit, I bumped into Lando.

He took one look at my tear-streaked face and immediately pulled me into a hug.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

I shook my head, unable to speak for a moment. “I can’t do it, Lando. I can’t stay here and watch him with her. It hurts too much.”

Lando pulled back slightly, his eyes soft. “You don’t have to stay. You know you can always come to my garage.”

I smiled weakly at him, grateful for his kindness. “I need some time alone, Lando. But thank you.”

He nodded understandingly. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

I hugged him tightly before walking away.

I knew Lando understood, he was the only one who knew how I felt about Carlos.

Back in my hotel room later that evening, I let myself cry. The tears came without warning, a flood of emotions that I had kept buried for so long.

They were painful, but I needed them. They had been building up for weeks, months, even years because I had been lying to myself.

I had let Carlos get too close to my heart, pretending he was everything I needed, hoping he would eventually realize that we were meant to be together.

I had allowed myself to become wrapped up in his promises, those little gestures that I now realized had only ever been casual flirtations.

The kisses on my cheek that made my heart race.

The way he would hold me close for just a second longer than necessary, as if our closeness was more than just friendship.

I had convinced myself those moments meant something.

But now, all I had was the overwhelming truth that I had been foolish.

Carlos didn’t want me. He had never truly wanted me.

But more than anything, I was angry at myself. How had I let him take up so much space in my life without ever truly giving me what I deserved?

I had spent so much time convincing myself that he would come around, that he would eventually see how perfect we were for each other.

But he had never promised me anything. He never made me a priority.

And when it came down to it, when he found someone else, I was just... nothing.

I was left standing there, heartbroken, all the while wondering if it was somehow my fault.

But as the night dragged on, something shifted within me. The tears slowed, and I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me, the one who had let Carlos walk all over her, the one who had been too afraid to face the truth.

It was time to change.

I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep holding onto something that wasn’t real.

It wasn’t Carlos who needed to change; it was me. I needed to find my own happiness.

I had been so wrapped up in waiting for Carlos to realize how great we could be together that I had forgotten to love myself first.

The truth was, I had allowed him to use me. I had been there for him when he needed me, while he toyed with my emotions, knowing that he had me hooked.

I had been loyal, caring, and patient, but none of that mattered to him.

It was time for me to stop chasing after a love that had never been meant for me. Carlos didn’t deserve me.

I swallowed hard, the weight of the realization sinking in. I wasn’t perfect, but I had so much to offer.

I deserved someone who would see me, appreciate me, and treat me with the respect I had given him.

I wasn’t going to wait around any longer.

It was time to focus on myself, to heal, and to become the best version of me that I could be.

I was worthy of real love, and I wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Weeks passed, and I slowly started to feel the fog lift.

I spent more time on self-care; going to the gym, reading books I had long ignored, and enjoying the things I loved without the cloud of uncertainty hanging over me.

It wasn’t easy.

Some days were better than others. But I was finally starting to feel like myself again.

I spent a lot of time with my friends, especially Lando.

He had been such a rock for me through everything, and I could never thank him enough for always having my back.

One afternoon, we were having lunch together when he looked at me, his eyes full of concern.

“How are you really holding up?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair.

I had been trying to push everything down, but Lando could see through me.

“Honestly? I’m not doing great. But I’m getting there, Lando. Slowly, but surely.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Have you heard from Carlos?”

The question hit me like a punch in the gut.

I tried to act unaffected, but the truth was, I hadn’t heard from him since that day at the paddock.

He hadn’t called, texted, or even checked in on me.

“No. Not since that day. I haven’t heard a word from him,” I said, my voice tight.

Lando frowned, shaking his head. “That’s messed up. He’s been distancing himself, huh?”

I nodded, my chest tightening as I remembered the way Carlos had moved on so easily.

It stung, but I didn’t want to dwell on it anymore.

“He’s got Sofia now. I don’t think he cares about me at all. And honestly? I’m done caring. He made his choice.”

Lando’s face softened, and he reached across the table to give my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re doing so much better, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

I smiled at him, a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Lando. It means a lot to me.”

We spent the rest of the lunch talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company.

For the first time in weeks, I felt like I was starting to come back to life.

I had been so consumed by Carlos and his inability to see my worth, but now I realized that I didn’t need him. I was enough on my own.

A month passed, and I was feeling stronger than ever.

I had rediscovered my love for life, for the things that made me happy.

I was no longer sitting around waiting for Carlos to give me the validation I craved.

I was content on my own.

One day, I was supporting Lando at a race, as I always did.

I was walking down the hallway of the paddock when I spotted Carlos talking to Sofia.

They were standing close together, whispering to each other, but as I got closer, I couldn’t help but overhear snippets of their conversation.

They were fighting. Loudly.

I turned the corner and kept walking, but my mind was racing. I didn’t want to get involved in their drama, but it felt strange.

For a second, I wondered if Carlos was starting to see the same thing I had.

Maybe Sofia wasn’t as perfect as he thought she was.

I didn’t care. I didn’t need him to come back to me, I had moved on, or so I thought.

When I got back to McLaren’s garage, I asked Lando,

“Have you heard anything about Carlos and Sofia?”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard they’ve been fighting a lot lately. He’s been acting... different.”

“I think he’s starting to see her true colors.” I said, feeling a strange sense of vindication.

Lando nodded, agreeing with me.

“Could be. But don’t waste your energy on it, Y/N. You’re better off without him.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Lando was right.

I had spent too much of my time focusing on someone who didn’t deserve me. I was finally free.

A week later, I was running late to meet Lando for lunch.

As I rushed through the hallway, I accidentally bumped into someone.

Papers flew everywhere, and I quickly apologized, bending down to help gather them up.

But when I looked up, my breath caught in my throat.

Standing in front of me was a man who was everything I wasn’t expecting.

Tall, dark-haired, wearing a sharp suit that clung to his broad shoulders.

His smile was warm, magnetic.

There was something about him that made me feel instantly at ease, yet also strangely excited.

“It’s alright,” he said, his voice smooth and confident.

“But you’re in a rush, huh?”

I laughed, trying to hide my flustered reaction. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

We finished gathering the papers, and when our eyes met again, there was a spark. It was undeniable.

“You sure you’re not in too much of a rush?” he asked, a teasing smile curling on his lips.

I smiled back, shaking my head. “No, I’m good. Just feeling bad about bumping into you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, the best way to make it up to me is by giving me your number.”

My heart skipped a beat, and for a second, I couldn’t quite process what was happening.

But then I realized... he was serious.

I had been so wrapped up in Carlos’s drama for so long that I had forgotten how to enjoy moments like this.

I had forgotten that there were good people out there who actually valued me for who I was.

I blinked in surprise but couldn’t hide my grin. “Okay. You’ve got my number.”

He chuckled, clearly pleased. “I’m Pablo, by the way. I’ll be in touch.”

I watched him walk away, a rush of excitement swirling in my chest.

Maybe this was what I needed, a fresh start, someone who actually saw me.

As I rushed to meet Lando, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Who was that?” Lando asked, eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"His name's Pablo. We bumped into each other, and one thing led to another. He asked for my number."

I said, unable to hide the grin on my face.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Look at you, getting a man.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin. “We'll see where this leads."

The next weekend, the excitement was palpable.

I had agreed to go on a date with Pablo after weeks of messages, calls, and a growing connection.

I was ready to experience this new chapter with someone who treated me like I deserved.

The day arrived, and I spent the afternoon getting ready, wanting to look my best.

I carefully picked out a beautiful dress, a deep emerald green that accentuated my curves, with a delicate lace overlay.

It was elegant, but not too flashy.

I wore my hair down, letting it cascade in soft waves, and my makeup was done elegantly, with just a hint of smokey eyeshadow and a natural, rosy lip.

I was almost finished when I heard the sound of the doorbell ring.

My heart skipped a beat.

As I walked to the door, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

When I opened it, I was met with Pablo, standing there with a charming smile, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"For you, beautiful." His voice was warm, and his eyes gleamed with admiration.

The flowers were soft pastel colors, delicate and fragrant.

I took them from his hands with a smile, feeling my cheeks flush under his gaze.

“Thank you, Pablo. They’re gorgeous.” I felt a wave of appreciation for how thoughtful he was.

He gave a small laugh, eyes twinkling.

“Not as gorgeous as you.” His words made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Pablo was always so attentive, and there was something incredibly genuine about him.

As we walked toward his car, I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he carried himself.

He opened the door of a Mercedes AMG for me, a sleek, expensive car that screamed wealth.

It was clear that this man was not just well-off; he was successful.

I knew a thing or two about cars.

Lando, my best friend, was obsessed with them, and wouldn't shut up about them.

He had so many that his garage looked like a car dealership.

The moment I saw the car, I immediately recognized the luxury, and I couldn’t help but feel impressed.

“Wow, this is gorgeous.” I couldn’t help but comment as I got in, still absorbing the interior.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s a little over the top, but sometimes, you just have to enjoy the finer things.”

He chuckled, settling into the driver’s seat. “But tonight’s about you, not the car.”

The ride to the restaurant was filled with pleasant conversation.

We talked about everything, his work, my passions, the places we wanted to visit.

He was thoughtful, but also funny and charming in a way that made me feel completely at ease.

The smooth hum of the engine only added to the calming atmosphere, and before I knew it, we had arrived at a stunning restaurant.

As we entered, the ambiance was just as sophisticated as the car.

Dim lighting, soft music playing in the background, it was the kind of place you came for an unforgettable night.

We were escorted to a private table, and as we sat down, I felt the weight of the evening's beauty surrounding us.

Everything about the night felt magical.

Over dinner, we continued to share stories and laughs.

I learned more about Pablo, his roots in Spain, his work as a CEO, and how he’d built his empire from the ground up.

It was a little ironic, hearing his story.

A Spanish man, an international success, yet here he was, sitting across from me, making me feel like the most important person in the world.

“You know, I can’t believe you’re a CEO,” I laughed, a little taken aback by how humble and down-to-earth he was.

“It’s almost too perfect, don’t you think? Spanish, successful, charming…”

He smiled, a hint of pride in his expression.

“It’s been a journey, but I love what I do.”

Then, his smile softened. “But I’m happier that I get to spend this time with you.”

I blushed, looking down at my plate for a moment, feeling a sense of warmth wash over me.

Pablo wasn’t just charming, he was genuine, and that made him stand out even more.

It felt like I was finally being seen for who I truly was, not just the exterior.

Months passed, and my relationship with Pablo deepened. We spent time together, growing closer with each passing day.

It was clear that he was everything Carlos had never been: supportive, caring, and loving in a way that made me feel truly special.

One evening, after a romantic dinner, as we strolled through the park, he stopped and turned to face me, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“Y/N, I like you a lot,” he said, his voice soft and serious.

“I want to be with you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

My heart swelled with happiness, and without hesitation, I responded,

“Yes, Pablo. I’d love that.”

It was a moment that felt like the beginning of something incredible, and over the months that followed, Pablo continued to prove that he was a man who meant every word he said.

He made me feel loved, respected, and cherished every single day.

Now, it was Friday again. This time, Lando had invited both Pablo and me to his race.

I was excited, Lando had always been a great friend, and it was nice that he and Pablo got along so well.

It made me happy to see the two important men in my life getting along.

Pablo and I were getting ready at the hotel, and I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy.

I wore a simple but elegant outfit, jeans and a fitted blouse, comfortable yet stylish.

As we walked hand-in-hand to the paddock, my heart was full.

The sound of the crowd, the engines revving, the electric energy in the air, it all felt so alive.

We met up with Lando, and he gave us both a big hug, making us feel welcome in his world.

“Hey, you two! Glad you could make it.” Lando’s smile was infectious.

He and Pablo exchanged pleasantries, and I could see the camaraderie between them.

It made my heart swell, seeing how well they got along.

After chatting with Lando for a while, he had to leave to prepare for the race.

Pablo and I stayed behind, walking around the paddock, taking in the excitement.

But then, Pablo excused himself to use the restroom.

As I stood alone for a moment, I caught a glimpse of Carlos out of the corner of my eye.

My stomach twisted, but it was too late to run.

He spotted me immediately and started walking in my direction.

When he finally reached me, he greeted me with an awkward smile, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

“Y/N, it’s been a while.”

I raised an eyebrow, my voice cool as I responded, “Has it?”

Carlos could sense the tension.

Carlos’ voice faltered slightly as he spoke, the words tumbling out quickly.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I should’ve reached out to you sooner.” His eyes met mine, genuine regret flickering in them.

“I miss you. I’ve missed you so much.”

I crossed my arms, trying to keep my composure.

“Carlos, it’s not that simple.” I kept my tone cool, almost distant.

“You didn’t reach out because you didn’t care. You chose not to.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze softening.

“I know… I messed up. I get it now, Y/N. I broke up with Sofia. I’ve realized that you’re the one I love. I was just too stubborn to see it before.”

I couldn’t help but let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

“Carlos, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have been with her in the first place. You wouldn't have used me for your own pleasure.”

My voice was steady, but the pain was evident. “You don’t get to come back just because you made a mistake.”

His expression hardened, but I could see the vulnerability in his eyes.

“I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I was confused, and I didn’t know what I wanted. But now, I know. I want you.”

He stepped closer, his voice soft and pleading.

“Please, just give me one more chance.”

The words stung, a mixture of old feelings and fresh wounds reopening.

I shook my head, pushing my emotions down.

“Carlos, I’m not that person anymore. You don’t get to rewrite history.”

My voice remained firm, the hurt too deep to ignore.

“You had your chance, and you chose someone else. I can’t just forget that.”

Carlos didn't expect that he was probably used to me always giving in.

“I didn’t want you anyways,” Carlos sneered, his words biting.

“I would’ve just used you like I did in the past, all the times you were too naive to even acknowledge that. Did you really think I wanted you in the first place?”

My heart stung at his words, but I refused to let him see that.

I could feel the old ache in my chest, the hurt from everything he had put me through, but I wasn’t going to let him win with his manipulation.

I stood tall, my gaze unwavering as I faced him.

“You’re pathetic, Carlos,” I said coldly, my voice steady.

“You never wanted me. You wanted control. And I’m done being your puppet.”

His eyes widened at my comeback, as if he hadn't expected me to stand up for myself.

But I wasn’t that girl anymore, the one who let him play with my emotions, the one who waited for him to change.

“So no, Carlos, I didn’t think you wanted me. Not then, and certainly not now.”

Before he could respond, I felt a familiar hand on my waist, and Pablo appeared, towering above me, his presence protective.

“There was a long line at the bathroom,” Pablo said smoothly, his voice calm but firm.

“Sorry it took so long, mi amor.” He leaned in, kissing my cheek before turning back to Carlos.

Carlos was frozen, staring at Pablo in disbelief.

“Mi amor?” He repeated, clearly stunned by the affection between us.

Pablo didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m Pablo Lopez. Nice to meet you, Carlos Sainz right? Best of luck with the race.”

His tone was polite, but there was an edge to it, one that made it clear he knew exactly who Carlos was and what had happened between us.

Carlos was speechless, clearly thrown off.

As I turned to walk away with Pablo, I heard Carlos’ voice call out to me, and I couldn’t ignore the familiar tug in my chest.

I stopped and turned slightly, reluctantly facing him again.

He walked toward us with a hesitant expression, clearly unsure of how to approach the situation.

"Y/N..." he began, his voice softer than before.

"Would you... would you want to watch the race from my garage? Like old times? I could really use your support today."

For a moment, I felt the weight of those words.

Old times. The days when I thought we’d always be in each other’s lives. But that wasn’t who I was anymore.

I didn’t owe him anything.

Before I could say anything, I felt Pablo’s arm tighten around me, his presence a strong shield by my side.

He didn’t hesitate for a second as he stepped forward, his tone calm but unwavering.

“No,” Pablo said firmly, his voice carrying the kind of authority that made it clear there was no room for negotiation.

"We’re with Lando today. We’re supporting him from his garage."

His words were a stark contrast to Carlos’ hopeful tone, and I could see Carlos' face falter at the certainty in Pablo’s voice.

Carlos blinked, taken aback by the decisiveness in Pablo’s response. He seemed to pause, trying to process what had just happened.

The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. His eyes flickered between Pablo and me, and I could see the understanding settle in.

He’d messed up, and he had no one to blame but himself.

“We’re going to Lando’s garage,” Pablo added smoothly, a subtle but deliberate edge to his words.

“We’ve already made plans. Best of luck with the race.”

Carlos opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was speechless.

The look on his face was a mixture of surprise and regret, as if he was finally starting to understand just how much he’d fumbled this entire situation.

I couldn’t help but feel a little satisfaction at seeing him so flustered, but I reminded myself to stay composed.

This was his fault, and the reality of what he had lost was only just beginning to hit him.

“Let’s go, mi amor,”

Pablo said gently, placing his hand on my lower back as he led me away, giving Carlos one last glance that left no room for misunderstanding.

As we began to walk away from Carlos, I felt a surge of relief, but Pablo wasn’t quite finished yet.

He shot a glance back over his shoulder at Carlos, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The tension in the air was thick, and Pablo, always confident, was going to make sure Carlos knew just how badly he’d messed up.

With a sly tone, Pablo called over his shoulder,

“If you wouldn’t have fumbled this bad, you might’ve had the privilege of having this beauty with you... but guess not.”

Carlos froze, his expression going from shock to something like embarrassment in an instant.

He didn’t even have time to respond before we turned our backs, walking away with our hands firmly clasped together.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at Pablo’s words. He was never one to hold back, but the way he handled that moment made me feel even more secure in the choice I had made.

As we walked down the hallway, Pablo leaned closer to me, his arm brushing mine, his voice softening.

“I’m just stating facts, mi amor,” he whispered, his eyes glinting with amusement.

I smiled up at him, shaking my head slightly. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Only for you,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

And just like that, the past felt even more distant, as if it never even mattered anymore.

The farther we got from Carlos, the more I could feel the weight lifting off my shoulders.

I was with someone who truly valued me, someone who had proven time and time again that I was more than just an afterthought.

And as we made our way to Lando’s garage, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing I had made the right choice.

As we walked toward the garage, Pablo turned to me with a concerned look. “Are you okay, mi amor?”

I smiled, my heart full from the kindness he showed. “I’m more than okay, because of you.”

He smiled back, pulling me in for a gentle kiss.

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what."

"You deserve only the best."

"Te quiero, amor.”

Before I could respond, Lando’s voice echoed from behind us, shouting,

“Ewww, get a room!”

We laughed, but I could see the joy in Lando’s face.

He was happy for me, happy that I had finally found someone who made me feel truly loved and valued.

And as Pablo and I walked toward the rest of our evening, hand in hand, I knew without a doubt that I had found my happiness.

The past was behind me. My future was with Pablo.

The end

[ghostfacd]

I FEEL YOUR COMPLIMENTS LIKE BULLETS ON SKIN. | JACK HUGHES

au masterlist

Jack had always made sure to compliment how good you were at being a mother. How great you were with the kids, how gracefully you handled each problem when it arose. That was just who Jack Hughes was. He was a charmer, always having a way with his words.

You never hated Jack Hughes more than you had at this moment. Your second and youngest baby, Daisy Hughes, was currently celebrating away her first birthday, her chubby hands clapping together excitedly, not aware that her mother, you, was going through an emotional turmoil.

Your first baby, however, was extremely smart for his age. So caring and thoughtful.

“You ‘kay mama?” He wasn’t able to speak proper sentences yet, only being 2, but he had the idea down.

“I’m okay bubba, thank you for asking.” You picked him up, giving him a kiss on the cheek to which he returned one to yours, sloppy but so full of love that it reminded you of Jack.

In fact, Olivier reminded you so much of Jack. He was practically your husband’s carbon copy, your genes having not put up a single fight.

“Daisy fussin’ mama,” Olivier presses his small hands against your cheek, making you turn to look at his baby sister.

“She’s probably just hungry,” you reassure him, placing him down gently before opening the fridge to get milk. “Aren’t you Daisy bear?”

Your baby talk makes your daughter babble something happily back, smiling ear to ear. She was adorable, your mini copy.

An hour later, most of your family members, including Jack’s parents and Quinn had came over to the house, all holding mini gift bags that said Happy Birthday!

Olivier had practically ran over Ellen, who smothered the boy in kisses before doing the same to Daisy who was currently sitting in her high chair.

“Oh my! She’s grown so big,” Ellen says admiringly, “she looks so much like you Rory.”

“Thank you mama,” you say, holding onto Ellen’s hand for a while before taking out the cake you had bought yesterday from the fridge. It was mini sized, perfect for Daisy who’s eyes lit up at the sight of it.

“Jack’s busy tonight?” Quinn whispers after your baby is done blowing out her cake.

“Yeah, him and Luke are away.” You try to hide your disappointment, but Quinn can clearly see it. He knows you like the back of his hand at this point, you were his sister in law.

“Has he called at least?”

You sigh, shaking your head. You knew Jack loved Daisy, you knew he loved both of your kids with all his heart, but it was still upsetting to know that he would be missing Daisy’s first milestone.

“Well don’t worry about it too much Rory, I’m sure he’ll call by tonight. That’s his Daisy girl after all, he wouldn’t miss seeing you two over FaceTime.”

You nod, giving Quinn a quick hug before waving goodbye to all your family members. Now, it was just you and your two kids, like it had been for the past 2 weeks.

You missed Jack with all your heart, wanting to do this entire parenting thing with him. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to be here with you guys, it was just that he couldn’t. But it didn’t make that any less painful.

“Hey.” The sound of Jack makes both of your kids’ ears perk up, Daisy blabbing happily as Olivier ran out from his room.

“Dada!” Ollie takes a seat right next to Daisy, who was currently on your lap.

“My Ollie boy!” Jack’s smile grows wide, watching as Olivier fidgets around in happiness. “How was Daisy’s birthday baby? Did you guys have fun?”

“So much fun!” Olivier opens his arms wide, as if he was trying to express how much fun he had with the length of his arm. “I had this much fun!”

“Oh really,” Jack laughs. “I bet you did. Did you give mama a hard time?”

“Nah uh!” Olivier shakes his head, getting up and personal to the camera. “Daisy was fussin’ earlier dada, but mama took care of her.”

“I’m glad.” Jack then turns his attention to you on the screen. “Hi Rory sweetheart.”

“Hi,” you say. You want to sound happy, you do, but not having Jack by your side really took a toll on your emotions.

“You okay?”

“I just wish you were here Jacky.”

Jack sighs, turning on his hotel room lamp. “I know baby, I wish I was too. I really miss you guys.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

Jack’s happy demeanor flatters. “What did you say?”

“Nothing Jack,”

He shakes his head. “No Rory. I heard you. What do you mean it doesn’t seem like it?”

“You barely called today Jack!” You say exasperated, “it’s your daughter’s first birthday, and you barely called. It’s 10pm right now, I should’ve put Daisy and Ollie to sleep an hour ago, but I was waiting on your phone call ‘cause I knew they’d wanted to see you. You know, their father, Jack.”

Jack rubs his face in annoyance, clearly not expecting such a reaction from you. “Well I’m sorry I was busy Rory. I would’ve called if I wasn’t, you know that right? I love you guys, you know this. I’m sorry I haven’t been there Ror, I know it’s hard on you. But you’re such a good mother, you’re doing so well with the kids, I’m proud of you.”

“You know what’s funny, J?” You laugh, a few tears coming to your eyes. “Your words are supposed to make me feel better. Your compliments are supposed to make me let go of all this tension. But they feel like bullets, Jack. I feel your compliments feel like bullets on skin.”

Jack doesn’t know what to say. He knew you would be upset he wouldn’t be able to make it to Daisy’s birthday, but he didn’t think you’d be this upset.

“I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay? We both just need to calm down.”

And before you could protest, Jack’s already hung up.

You swear quietly, covering your baby’s ear as you do so. You get up from your place on the couch, deciding to just call it a night and put Daisy to sleep.

“Are you asleep yet Ol?” You peek your head quietly into your son’s room after putting Daisy in her crib.

“No mama,” he says quietly back, little feet running to you. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course you can sweetheart,” you carry Olivier on your hip, walking to your room and making sure your son gets comfortable under the sheets. “Mama is gonna do her skincare, you sleep first, okay baby?”

“Yes mama.”

That night, you can’t help but cry silently as you cuddled your son close to your chest. You knew you were being emotional, but you couldn’t help it. You missed Jack more than anything.

The next morning, you’re awoken by a kiss on the forehead.

“J?” You say groggily, making out your husband’s face as your vision becomes clearer. “J!”

You throw your arms around him, bringing him into a tight hug.

“Rory.” He replies back, pulling away to give you a long awaited kiss on the lips.

After pulling away, you can’t help but chase his lips, which make him chuckle quietly. He presses his head down to give a kiss on Olivier’s forehead.

“Daisy’s still asleep?” You ask, putting your arms around Jack’s shoulders. You missed feeling his touch so much.

“Sound asleep.” Jack smiles. “Looks exactly like her mama.”

You look down guilty, realizing what you had said to Jack yesterday. “I’m sorry about yesterday J. I was just really emotional about you missing Dais’s first birthday. It means a lot to me that you’re here for our babies milestones.”

“I know.” Jack says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m here now, okay? I told them I had to be home with my wife and kids immediately after I hung up last night. I had to see you guys again, it was killing me too.”

You pull Jack into a hug once again, cherishing this intimate moment you were having with him. It felt so good to have him back in your arms again after a long 2 weeks.

You were too happy to remember to show him the news you had found out a few days ago.

The blue stick with two lines on it.

[genderlessdude92]

The Static She Loves

PAIRING: ALASTOR X F!READER

SUMMARY: Y/N and Alastor navigate a tumultuous relationship marked by Alastor’s inner demons and his fear of vulnerability. After an intense argument and a moment of emotional and physical connection, Y/N’s unwavering love forces Alastor to confront his self-loathing and open up to her support. Despite the chaos surrounding them, their bond grows stronger as they choose to face their fears and flaws together.

WARNINGS: MAJOR ANGST TO FLUFF/SMUT, Straight up explicit content, Emotional theme, Alastor, Already in a relationship, Arguments, Violence, Toxic Relationship Dynamics (not entirely though), Self doubt, Strong language, Slight mental health triggers, Hell, A LITTLEEEE BITTT ooc Alastor…ur mom idk bye OH fic is 4.3k words

NOTICE: please don’t copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But…thanks for liking my work !! >.<

Requests are open, Support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

The door to Alastor’s shared room creaked open, and Y/N stepped tentatively inside, her eyes scanning the dimly lit space. The room was a reflection of its inhabitant: chaotic yet strangely charming, with a certain charm that could only be attributed to Alastor's peculiar sense of order. The flickering lights of the Hazbin Hotel cast an eerie glow across the cluttered shelves and the large, inviting bed in the center of the room. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she knew was to come.

Alastor and Y/N, earlier, had gotten into an argument about how Alastor had been recklessly pushing Y/N away due to his “personal affairs” out in hell and whatnot. He had not been letting Y/N into his…heart, trully.

Alastor looked up from his seat near the bayou, his expression a maelstrom of emotions. She could see the turmoil in his eyes, the war between his fears and the love he felt for her. He was a creature of darkness, and yet she saw the flicker of hope that she brought to him, the light that made him question his very nature.

The silence stretched taut between them, the air thick with the scent of rain and the electric charge of their emotions. Y/N watched as Alastor struggled with the tumult within him, his eyes flickering with the same chaotic energy that danced around the room.

Finally, he spoke, his voice raw with vulnerability. “You don’t know what you’re asking, Y/N. If I let you in, you might not like what you see. I’ve done terrible things—things that could never be undone.”

Y/N’s eyes searched his, her resolve unshaken. “Alastor, I know you’re not perfect. Neither am I. But that’s what makes us who we are, and I still choose to love you. I want to be there for you, to help you carry the weight of your past. We all have our demons. I just want to be your angel in this messed-up situation of ours.”

Alastor’s expression softened at her words, the static in his eyes fading slightly. “You’re too good for me,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the power that surged within him.

“Maybe I am, but that’s not for you to decide,” she said, leaning into his touch. “I choose to love you, flaws and all. Now, tell me what’s been going on with you. I can handle it, I promise.”

Alastor took a deep breath, his eyes searched hers for any sign of doubt or fear. But all he found was the warmth of her love, unyielding and unconditional. He sighed, the weight of his secrets heavy on his chest. “You know I’ve been dealing with my past in the mortal world. But what you don’t know is that I’ve also been dealing with the repercussions here, in Hell.”

The words hung in the air, thick and heavy like the humidity outside the Hotel. Y/N felt her heart clench with a mix of worry and curiosity. “What do you mean?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant sounds of The crickets in the Bayou.

Alastor's grip on her cheek tightened for a moment before he let go, his hand dropping to his side. He took a step back, pacing the room, his tail flicking restlessly behind him. "The sins of my past, the ones I've been trying to atone for... They're not just haunting me, they're becoming a part of my present. Someone's been stirring up trouble, bringing up things I've long buried." He looked at her sternly, “You will, however, not get into my business.”

Y/N's eyes searched his, seeing the turmoil bubbling just beneath the surface. "But Alastor, I care about you. I want to help," she pleaded, her voice soft and steady. "We're in this together."

He stopped pacing, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. "You don't understand," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "The things I've done, the lives I've ruined... It's not just about facing the consequences. It's about not letting you get caught up in it all."

Y/N stepped closer to him, reaching out to grasp his hand. "I do understand," she said firmly. "And I'm not going anywhere. We can face this together."

Alastor's expression remained torn, his eyes flickering between doubt and hope. "What if I'm too much for you?" he whispered, the static in his voice crackling with fear.

"I'll always be here, no matter what," Y/N assured him, her grip on his hand tightening. "I love you, and I want to help you through this."

Alastor closed his eyes, the warmth of her touch seeping into his very soul. He knew she meant every word, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating. For so long, he had been alone, wielding his power with a reckless abandon that had left a trail of destruction in his wake. The thought of losing her, of her seeing the true monster within him, was almost too much to bear.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and he stepped back, his hand sliding from hers. "No," he said, his voice shaking with the effort of holding back his emotions. "You can't handle it, Y/N. I can't let you be part of this."

The words hit her like a slap, and she felt her eyes well with tears. "Alastor, please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I want to help you."

But the radio demon just shook his head, his eyes filled with a pain that was palpable. "You don't know what you're asking," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "I've hurt people before, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you too."

The air grew thick with tension as Y/N took a step back, her hand falling to her side. "Then tell me," she demanded, her voice shaking. "Let me in, Alastor. I'm not going anywhere."

Alastor's eyes narrowed, the shadows in the room seeming to pulse with his growing anger. "You don't know what you're talking about," he spat, the static around him growing louder. "You're just a foolish little angel, playing with fire."

Y/N's eyes flashed, her determination unyielding. "I'm not just playing, Alastor! I love you, and I want to be with you, through everything!" she yelled back, her voice echoing off the walls.

"You don't know what you're saying!" Alastor's voice grew louder, his fists clenching at his sides. "You think you can just waltz in here and save me? I'm beyond saving!" The static in the room grew to a deafening roar, the shadows around him dancing with malevolent intent.

Y/N's eyes filled with tears as she shouted back, "I know what I'm saying! And I know that you're worth fighting for, even if you can't see it!"

Alastor's form grew more tense, his shadows swirling in agitation. "You think you can just fix me, don't you? Make all the bad things go away?" His voice was laced with anger and a hint of desperation, the static in his eyes crackling like a live wire, “You don’t get it, Y/N! I’m not some broken toy you can mend with a band-aid and a kiss!”

Y/N’s eyes were filled with a fiery determination. "I'm not trying to fix you, Alastor! I just want to be here for you!" she shouted, taking another step closer. "You're not a monster to me!"

The room trembled with the intensity of their argument, the very fabric of hell seeming to pulse with the emotions that surged between them. Alastor's eyes grew wide with fear, his shadows swelling in size. "Back away," he roared, his voice thundering like a beast's growl.

Y/N didn't flinch. "No, Alastor! You're not going to push me away again!" she screamed, her voice strong despite the tremble in her chest. She stepped closer, her eyes blazing with a fierce love that was met with his own fiery anger.

The shadows grew, stretching from the corners of the room to wrap around them, the air charged with the static of his power. "You don't get it!" he bellowed, his eyes flashing with a mix of pain and anger. "You're too good for this, for me!"

Without warning, a jolt of energy shot from Alastor's hand, slamming into the wall behind Y/N. The impact sent a shower of plaster raining down, and she stumbled, a cry escaping her lips as she was thrown backward. She felt a searing pain as one of the shadows lashed out, catching her arm and leaving a smoldering trail of agony in its wake.

Alastor's eyes widened in horror as he saw what he had done. The static in the room grew deafening, his power spiraling out of control as he rushed to her side. "Y/N!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear and guilt.

Y/N lay on the bed, her arm seared by the shadow's touch, her body trembling with shock. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with terror, and he could see the doubt in her gaze. He had hurt her, and it was the last thing he ever wanted. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the static.

Gently, Alastor cradled her in his arms, his own form quaking with the effort of holding back the power that threatened to consume him. He tried to soothe her, stroking her hair and whispering apologies, his touch as tender as a feather. He knew he had to leave, to protect her from the monster that lived within him, but the thought of letting her go was unbearable.

The truth was, though, her unspoken truth, was that she understood why he freaked out.

She could never get mad at him…yet there he is…thinking she hates him for than the cause of her death. He was wrong, she wasn't mad. She was terrified. Terrified that he would push her away again. Terrified that she had lost him forever. Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of the love she knew was there, but all she saw was fear and doubt.

Her voice trembled as she spoke, "Alastor, please don't go."

He hesitated, his grip tightening around her, but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. He knew he had to give her space, to let her heal from the pain he had caused. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I'll just make it worse if I stay."

Gently, he placed her on the bed, the mattress groaning beneath their combined weight. She watched him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, as he took a step back. Each inch that grew between them felt like a mile, a chasm of doubt and fear threatening to swallow them whole. He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go. "I'll be back," he promised, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Then and there, he left for his office.

(σ´∀`)σ . . .

The Evening After . . .

Y/N stood in the hallway, the walls seemingly closing in around her. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions raging within her. She had never felt so alone, so unsure. But she knew she had to face Alastor, had to bridge the chasm that had opened up between them. She took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock on the door to his office.

The wood was cool to the touch, a stark reminder of the coldness that had settled between them. She listened, her heart pounding in her chest, and after a moment, she heard a faint click. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit room beyond. Alastor's shadow loomed large, a silent sentinel that stepped aside to allow her entry. She swallowed hard and stepped into the lion's den, her eyes immediately seeking out the radio demon who had become so much more than just a roommate to her.

He was sitting at his desk, his back to her, the glow of a single candle casting deep shadows across his broad shoulders. The sight of him, so strong yet so tormented, filled her with a fierce determination to show him that she was not afraid, that she was not going anywhere. "Alastor," she said softly, her voice barely carrying across the space.

He tensed, the muscles in his back rippling like the surface of a lake disturbed by a thrown stone. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone gruff, his voice heavy with the weight of the guilt that had been consuming him since their argument.

Y/N closed the door behind her, her footsteps echoing in the quiet space. She took a tentative step forward, her eyes never leaving his silhouette. "I just want to talk," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "About what happened last night."

Alastor's shoulders slumped, but he didn't turn around. "There's nothing to talk about," he replied, his voice tight. "I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But that's just who I am."

Y/N felt a surge of frustration mixed with love for this stubborn, complex man. She walked up to him and placed her hand gently on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. "Alastor, that's not all you are," she said firmly. "You're also the one who has shown me kindness in this hellish place, who has made me feel seen and heard, and who has made me feel alive again."

He flinched at her touch, and she knew she had hit a nerve. For a moment, she feared she had pushed too hard. But then, slowly, he turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for any hint of anger or judgment. All he found was love and determination. "How can you still care for me after what I did?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper.

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing as she met his gaze. "Because love isn't about ignoring the bad, Alastor. It's about seeing the good and choosing to stand by someone's side, no matter what," she replied, her voice steady and strong. "You're not a monster to me. You're the one who's been there for me when no one else was."

Alastor's eyes searched hers, his expression a tumultuous storm of emotions. "But what if I can't control it?" he whispered, his fear palpable. "What if I hurt you again?"

Y/N stepped closer, her hand sliding down his arm to grasp his hand. "You won't," she said with absolute certainty. "Because you don't want to. And I trust you."

The words seemed to resonate within him, his eyes flickering with a mix of disbelief and something that looked suspiciously like hope. He didn't pull away from her touch, but instead, his grip tightened. "You shouldn't," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'm... I'm not going to push you away anymore."

“Thank you…Alastor.” Y/N’s voice was soft, but firm. She knew he was struggling, but she also knew that she wasn’t going anywhere. She saw the war playing out on his face, the battle between his fear and his love. For a long moment, they just stood there, hands entwined, the air between them crackling with tension.

Alastor signaled for a touch of there foreheads, the static in the air fading slightly as he took a deep, shaky breath. "I just don't want to lose you," he confessed, his voice a ragged whisper. "You're the only thing that's ever made me feel...less monstrous."

And then their lips crashed together, a fierce, desperate kiss that spoke of love, of longing, of fear and regret. The room seemed to fade away around them, leaving only the warmth of their bodies and the rapid beating of their hearts. Y/N's hand slid up to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw as she deepened the kiss, her tongue tangling with his in a silent promise to never leave.

Alastor picked Y/N up, causing her to yell as he strides over to the couch in the studio, laying her down gently. His eyes never leave hers, his expression one of fierce determination. He knew that he couldn’t push her away anymore, that she deserved to be loved and cherished, no matter his fears.

Their kiss grew more frantic as the tension of the past few days melted away. Y/N could feel the love in every stroke of his tongue, every touch of his hand. She moaned into his mouth, her hips arching up to meet his, desperate for more. Alastor's hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake, as if he was trying to brand her as his own.

!!SMUTTTTTT ALERT!!

Alastor's grip on her tightened as his kiss grew more insistent, his tongue seeking hers with a passion that left Y/N breathless. She melted into his embrace, her body responding to the heat that radiated from him. His hand slid down her side, tracing the curve of her hip, and she gasped as he cupped her thigh, his fingers pressing gently. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the power that thrummed beneath the surface, and it only served to excite her more.

Their kiss grew more urgent, their breaths mingling as they devoured one another. Y/N reached up to tug at the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and pulled back just enough to allow her to lift it over his head. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, her skin flushed and her chest heaving with desire.

With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her own shirt, letting it fall away to expose her bare chest. Alastor’s gaze roamed over her, his pupils dilating with hunger. He leaned down to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. A thrill ran through her, and she arched into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut. His hands slid up her body, cupping her breasts gently before his thumbs began to tease her nipples into tight peaks.

“Alastor,” she moaned, the sound of his name a benediction on her lips. He responded with a low growl, his mouth moving to capture one of her nipples, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh. Y/N’s back arched, and she gripped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his skin. The pleasure was intense, a crescendo building within her that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces.

He kissed a path down her stomach, his hands deftly unbuttoning her pants. She could feel the heat of his breath as he pulled them down, leaving her exposed to his hungry gaze. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes drinking her in. She watched as he took in the sight of her, his eyes smoldering with desire.

Her legs quivered as he knelt before her, placing gentle kisses along her inner thighs. His warm breath brushed against her dampness, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. He looked up, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “I want to hear you, Y/N. Don’t hold back, not with me.”

With that, he pressed his mouth to her, his tongue delving into her warmth. The sensation was exquisite, his touch a masterful blend of rough and tender. She gasped, her hands threading through his hair as she lost herself in the feeling. His tongue danced against her clit, stroking it with a precision that had her hips bucking against his mouth. The pleasure was almost unbearable, her body straining towards the peak she knew was just out of reach.

Alastor’s eyes remained locked with hers, the connection between them as potent as the physical sensations overwhelming her. She could see the hunger in his gaze, the need to claim and possess her, and it only served to drive her desire higher. His fingers slid into her, filling her as he continued to lick and suck, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

The tension grew, coiling tightly within her until she couldn’t hold back any longer. A cry of pleasure tore from her throat, her body convulsing as the orgasm crashed over her like a wave. Alastor held her through it, his tongue slowing but never leaving her, savoring every tremor of her release. When she finally collapsed back onto the couch, panting and trembling, he kissed his way back up her body, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Alastor, please,” she gasped, her voice a desperate whisper. “I need more of you. All of you.”

With a predatory smile, he stood, his eyes never leaving hers as he stripped away the last of his clothing. His cock, thick and heavy, stood proudly before her, and she couldn’t help but stare. The anticipation was exquisite, her body already aching for him.

“You’re so eager, my love,” he murmured, his voice a dark caress that sent shivers down her spine. He stepped closer, his hand reaching down to stroke her cheek before his fingers trailed down her neck and over her collarbone.

Y/N reached out to touch him, her hand wrapping around his length. He was hot and hard in her grip, his skin like velvet over steel. Alastor hissed at the contact, his eyes flashing with pleasure. She stroked him, exploring the contours of his cock as she had never been able to before. He watched her, his chest heaving, his pupils wide with desire.

“Take me, Alastor,” she whispered, her voice needy and raw.

The air around them crackled with energy as Alastor claimed her again, his kisses demanding and rough. His cock, thick and insistent, nudged against her folds, seeking entrance. She opened her legs wider, inviting him in, and he took the offering without hesitation. With one swift motion, he thrust into her, filling her completely.

Y/N gasped, her nails digging into the couch cushions as he began to move, his hips pistoning into her with a relentless rhythm. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion—the slap of skin, the guttural groans of pleasure, the soft whimpers that escaped her throat with every stroke. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious agony that had her eyes rolling back in her head.

Alastor’s hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her head back, exposing her throat to his ravenous mouth. He kissed and bit her neck, his fangs grazing her sensitive skin, and she moaned, the thrill of danger only heightening her pleasure. The pressure within her grew, a delicious ache that demanded release, and she could feel the knot at the base of his cock swelling with every thrust.

He slammed into her, the force of his movements making the couch groan beneath them. The pain was exquisite, a fine line between agony and ecstasy that she danced upon. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t care. All she knew was the feel of him, the taste of him, the scent of their shared desire filling the air.

Y/N’s nails raked down his back, her body arching as he hit her g-spot with every thrust. She could feel the knot growing larger, stretching her, and she knew what was coming. The thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, making her pussy clench around him.

“Alastor, I’m going to come again!” she screamed, her voice echoing through the room. He responded with a deep, guttural growl, his pace quickening. The knot grew larger, filling her completely, and she could feel the pressure of his climax building.

The world around them faded away, their focus solely on the primal dance of their bodies. The room was a blur of shadows and light, the only constant the heat of their passion. He slammed into her, his knot swelling with the promise of release, and she could feel her own orgasm building once more.

“Alastor, oh god, I can’t—” she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut tightly as the pressure grew.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he growled, his voice a command that sent shockwaves through her core. She obeyed, her body tightening around him as she climaxed again, the intensity of the orgasm leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

Alastor felt her pussy clench around his knot, and with a roar of release, he came too, his warm seed filling her. The knot grew even larger, locking them together in the throes of passion. He stilled, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her, the connection between them stronger than ever.

As they rode the waves of their shared climax, their hearts pounded in sync, the room spinning around them. The knot felt like it was branding her, marking her as his own, and she reveled in the possessiveness of the act. When the intensity of the moment began to ebb, Alastor leaned down to kiss her, his movements slow and tender.

“Mine,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs still locked around his waist. “Always yours,” she breathed back, the words a declaration of love and acceptance that resonated deep within his soul.

As their breathing slowed, the knot inside her began to shrink, the intensity of the moment gradually fading. Alastor’s eyes searched hers, his expression a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with a vulnerability she had never heard before.

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END NOTES: :33< HI GUYS SORRY I HAVENT FED YOU GUYS IVE BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL (i still am [i need alastor]) Guys i just love writing…i don’t know just something about writing…its so fun. I also love you guys. Speaking of love and writing…if you liked this fic,,,,,HIT THAT LIKE BUTTON…or note button (if you didn’t ur still gonna like the post) also like i found out that reposting is—like—so cool and…so is leaving a comment…and following me. NO PRESSURE…love y’all 👅!!! Also sorry if it’s written like a crazy person i’m on the hospital perks rn

-Genderlessdude92

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MASTERLIST

[nabi-unveiled]

Catching Up: Love for Love's Sake (Ep 1)

During the tag game a little while ago, it seemed like there was a character from this show on almost everyone's list. Anytime a character or show becomes that ubiquitous, I become curious. Especially since the show's over a year old by now. Recency bias couldn't be the main factor.

I had to reload iQIYI several times before subtitles began working, but the opening shot already had me intrigued.

It made my brain automatically race with questions.

Because apparently someone is looking for this person...

Even if the bell reminds me of my incredibly annoying alarm clock from high school.

All of this running is reminding me of a post I have in my draft graveyard about the importance of movement in emotional sequences. Not relevant right now.

Ooooo. So the box is going to be a thing is it? Unlike the first one, this one has bells on it so it appears to be a notification of some sort. It looks like a video game in some ways. "Love Supremacy Zone" could be taken multiple ways. I don't have enough evidence to make a call yet.

I do know that it's making me very nervous to have whoever this is on the roof and standing like that. I'm hoping this just means it's a show with rooftop scenes rather than this being a jumper type scene. In my former job, I had to cope with several teenage suicides, and my grandfather ended his life about a year ago. It's not a hard limit or major trigger for me, but it will make me emotional if we're going there.

Apparently the person on the roof is our missing person. So it'll be okay. The runner will intervene if this is a jump scene.

Ok, I don't know who this person is...

But I already love them from the intro. Watching them struggle to get over the wall with their adorkable styling was an instant delight. However, we know I make snap judgments and often regret them later. Only time will tell.

The fact that the episode is named after an emotion makes me leery. Does this mean other episodes are also assigned emotions? Cue up the angst I guess. (Actually, please do. I love angst.)

There's a cornflower. That's interesting. Blue cornflowers are highly symbolic. They carry meaning in several different cultures and religions.

There's folklore related to men wearing them as a sign of love. If the color faded, the love wasn't returned. Girls wore them as a sign they were eligible to marry in some cultures. They also have connections to Christian symbolism, Greek mythology and several historical references if I remember correctly 🤔. None of this is probably important. We don't know if they'll be used symbolically yet. For now, they're just a flower.

I'm trying to figure out if we're jumping forward in the timeline, because my boy here is drowning himself in drinks. And while this other dude basically said "slow down", he didn't say "stop" so we must be out of high school. I'm going with this is a different timeframe. It's definitely a different vibe from the beginning.

And there are too many references to death and happy endings in a short time frame. My spidey senses do not like these types of phrases. They mention the book being turned into a video game which makes me think my earlier thought about the box on screen looking like a game was correct. The question "Would anyone want to play it?" makes me wonder where they're going with that thread.

Yeah, me too. I know it's terrible, but I often get bored with super-sweet shows. It's why I often fast forward through date sequences. Don't get me wrong - I watch the sweet shows. But I'd rather that sweetness be tempered with some actual emotional turmoil and tension.

Our drinker says it bothers him that our missing person is the only only one who's miserable.

I take it this dude is meant to represent all of typical society. Just bury my head in the sand and ignore other people's problems as long as I'm living a good life. I have a bitter taste in my mouth about it so I'm glad our drinker calls him on it and says that it's "vile" that some people are destined to that kind of life.

I did not expect this conversation to go here. That's a loaded question. There is obviously a lot of subtext, because this guy knows things that I'm not privy to at the moment. But it's a great question. You can complain. But does it matter if you're not going to do something about it?

We're definitely jumping timeframes. We're now back in high school. The sound is very distorted like in a dream world. It sounds like running water to me. I definitely stopped and restarted thinking the sound had gotten messed up in my app again. It happens a lot.

Actually, have we time jumped?

Uh oh. I didn't realize this show involved time jumps. That's such a tricky, tricky mechanism to use well. Most of the time it falls flat or leads to massive narrative holes. I'm going to trust that most of you wouldn't be recommending this show if that was the case though.

And the video game box is back. That means our earlier scene involved the time jumper. The Love Supremacy Zone has been activated after all.

Ok. I'm still not sure how I feel about the time jumping, but I'm loving the gaming aspect. Everyone in my house games (including me). If time is limited, I'll choose shows over games. But I love shows that execute gaming tropes and references. A lot of these are anime like Solo Leveling or Delicious in Dungeon, but there are a few live action ones (Love 020 or Falling Into Your Smile). Actually, I even enjoy the shows like Missions of Love that are objectively pretty bad. It's not a common framing device in a BL so I'm really curious how it'll be used.

The addition of the gaming aspect makes me wonder if this is a blackout dream. Like he'll figure out what "could" have been and then use that knowledge when he goes back to his current time.

And now I'm confused. That's ok. Myung-ha is too. Blackout dream seems like the most likely option unless we're bringing in some kind of fantasy/magic aspect.

I've missed what Shinyeop is, but apparently it's connected to the senior writing a book and adapting it into a game.

No thanks. I'll pass. Life is INFINITELY better as an adult. Even with all of the adult responsibilities, I never go "man, I wish I could go back to high school".

I'm glad your memory has been restored and that the game aspect is going smoothly, but I need to know more about this cutie. Like...now.

I have so many theories and thoughts running through my head. So the missing man has similarities to Myung-ha? Did his senior base him off of Myung-ha? This question feels very different now than it did earlier, and we definitely have some fantasy music vibes now. Did I just miss the vibe earlier or is this purposeful reframing? Could go either way.

I don't trust "senior" though. He seems like a man with his own agenda rather than seriously looking out for Myung-ha's well-being.

I'm also realizing that I shouldn't call this a "time jump". It's really an alternate reality scenario. The distinction is important, because the two setups have different potential narrative problems.

Ahhh! I cannot express how much I am loving the gaming aspect. We're now on a timed mission to prevent our missing man from hurting his leg. I guess he WAS going to jump?

I do wonder why Myung-ha isn't questioning the fact that his senior managed to trap him in a game.

There isn't any way I would've made it in time. I might could've made it as a teenager. I could run a 7.5 minute mile on average back then, but I didn't ever do more than 2 miles at a time. But now? No way.

I felt this line in my soul. I doubt it will be mine, but I feel like this would be a lovely epitaph. Whether it's positive or negative would be up to interpretation of whoever viewed the stone decades later. Lol.

Affection level is at -20. LMAO. Time to start building up some hearts. Do some quests. Give some liked or loved gifts. Find the NPC that gives you all of the important clues and needed information. Please let that be our cutie in glasses.

Myung-ha says he was sent by Yeowoon's grandmother. I can't decide if this is genius or a low move. Using his halmeoni to manipulate him? I guess if it stops him from doing stupid stuff that destroys his life, then I'll support it.

😂😂😂 Apparently, "offers ice cream to comfort people" needs to be a list. Since Let Free the Curse, I'm now noticing ice cream in a lot of places. Apparently Yeowoon's flavor choice is unexpected. Lol. Myung-ha didn't have enough money. Ah, red bean. Yeah, I've tried it. Not my favorite ice cream flavor. This reminds me that I still need to make garlic ice cream to try. It's warming up so I'll break out the ice cream maker soon.

I love the debuff effect. Myung-ha seems intelligent which I appreciate. But he keeps talking about going home, and I'm really wondering where his home is in this world.

Obviously our virtual world pre-loaded that information. I doubt that's what we'd find if we googled it. I'm betting we'd find this show actually. Could also be a song or book title. I might test it after my watch. Regardless, I'm glad Myung-ha knows his main objective now.

OMG. Did Yeowoon try it because that's what Myung-ha had picked out? Plus, this is a delightful way to get the information. It's like a quest log being updated. I have not tried chestnut-flavored ice cream.

Yeowoon needs someone for sure. It sucks. Especially if his grandmother was his main person in life. My grandfather wasn't my main person, but he was an important person to me. I still get emotional when things remind me of him.

😢 Is this HIS grandmother? He just said "it hadn't changed". Has his past merged into this virtual world? That's going to be hard for Myung-ha as it seemed like he had lost his grandmother in the bar scene. But this is also going to be hard for Yeowoon who just lost his.

Grandma has eyes. She immediately clocks the funeral clothes and that our boy Yeowoon is a handsome one.

Yeowoon is wondering if this is about pity. It's a fair question. Apparently Myung-ha fought a lot as a teen.

Aww, Myung-ha's leveling up. His affection level is now at -10.

I got distracted by the mural. I love public art.

But I'm going to assume my translation app is wrong. It translated the quote as "I think of the holy and beautiful thoughts in the fact that I am guarding that gun."

Myung-ha chooses to sit closer to Yeowoon on the bus.

Uh oh. Debuff is active. The purple aura surrounding our person getting on the bus is sending me. It's so video game coded. Myung-ha better get ready to defend.

Myung-ha speaks and the potential bullies notice his nametag. The fights his grandma mentioned must be well known. They back down.

Myung-ha is learning the rules:

The love supremacy zone is a 5m region surrounding Cha Yeowoon.

Negative affection levels leads to debuffs and consequences.

This is important in every game. Myung-ha reasons that this means he needs to stay outside of the zone. But I'm not sure that Myung-ha's logic is sound here. Staying outside of the zone will make it harder to level up affection. Especially if he can counter the debuffs as easily as he has so far.

Yes. I know this is really talking about the game rules, and on that score - maybe. But on the relationship side, something good would happen for both of you. Because Myung-ha is obviously lonely too. You can tell from our bar scene that his life wasn't a picnic. He needs a reset too.

Oh. Poor baby Yeowoon is distracted and running slow. He doesn't understand why Myung-ha is avoiding him.

And our bullies are threatening to "teach him a lesson". I can't get a read yet on if this is going to be one of those bullies that mellows, and we're expected to understand eventually.

Or is this one just an actual bully that I can hate on? It does look like Myung-ha is a problem for him. And this makes me wonder if averting the jump only delayed the potential for getting hurt.

Who's Sangwon? Apparently our bully isn't the top dog of his pack.

Yay! My cutie is back and we now have a name for him - Kyunghoon.

He IS our NPC with the information! Love it! Myung-ha says he doesn't hit kids, but...we'll see.

I love that Yeowoon ran after Myung-ha down the hall, and that the music has a video game quality to it.

Myung-ha informs Yeowoon that he needs to like him more for them to be close together. That will definitely be misunderstood.

The fact that he's not questioning this "trapped in a game" situation is still throwing me for a loop. Just what does he know about his senior? Or is he the type that just accepts things and goes with the flow? I still feel like that would be a big ask in this scenario.

Yeowoon calls Myung-ha to ask if he likes him. He also says that yes, Myung-ha does look like he would beat someone up. I'm enjoying how direct both of these characters are with each other.

The affection level has went up to -7. And we've now been given a time limit on our mission to make Yeowoon happy - 300 days. But there's a penalty if you fail.

Is this Yeowoon's death? Myung-ha's death? Would it translate to death in his real world? Would it mean that he died in the virtual world and got taken back to real life? He did say he wanted to stay here.

Actually.....does that mean that IF he succeeds, this world becomes his new, permanent world? I'm not 100% sure how I feel about that, but it does seem like an avenue to a happy ending. Hmm. That's going to be something I have to ponder on. It's a conundrum in any show that plays with alternate realities (comic, game, etc.). It's one of the trickiest aspects of this type of premise.

I had seen some GIFs of this show, but I hadn't expected or anticipated this framework AT ALL. It looks like Myung-ha's going to have to quickly adjust to this new reality too. We're counting down 300 days.

[superwholock36]

~ A Little Taste of Heaven ~ (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader) (1/10)

Sorry for any mistakes! I don't have a beta and this is my first story I've ever put out there! ~ ❤️ Any feed back is much appreciated! I hope you all Enjoy!

Also it has been posted to ao3 as I have an account there under Kprincess3697 so it hasn’t been stolen, Love y’all 🥰

warnings : Mature themes/Explicit content/Action-packed violence/Emotional turmoil/Hostage situations/Romance/Angst summery "Spider-Man swings in to save the day, but ends up stealing more than just a moment—he gets caught in something a little more… complicated. 😉"

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🎵🎶Sweetest Pie • Megan Thee Stallion, Dua Lipa 🎶🎵(link to song)

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Moving to Manhattan had felt like stepping into an entirely new existence. Her old life—familiar routines, the safety net of her small circle—was now miles away, stored in memory boxes and cautious goodbyes. This was supposed to be her fresh start, her big break. She had landed a job at the New York Bulletin, after all.

The title alone had made her giddy with anticipation. A major magazine! She had imagined herself diving into editorial meetings, pitching bold ideas, and seeing her byline in glossy print. But reality had been far less glamorous. Instead of crafting stories, she spent her days running coffee orders, delivering memos, and juggling dry cleaning runs for senior staff.

An errand girl. That’s what she had become.

She fought to swallow the growing pit of disappointment every time her phone buzzed with yet another task. This wasn’t what she had dreamed of, but Manhattan wasn’t one for indulging dreams—it was a place where you either climbed or got swept away. And she wasn’t about to let the city win.

Navigating the bustling streets of Manhattan was like stepping into a current of unrelenting energy. Crowds surged past [Name] in every direction, the air thick with the aroma of street food mingled with exhaust fumes. She kept her head low, her messenger bag slung over one shoulder and her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She had just picked up lunch for her editor, the kind of errand that seemed to define her job lately.

She paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. The towering digital screens above her flickered, capturing her attention as they cut into their regular loop of advertisements. The unmistakable face of J. Jonah Jameson appeared, scowling and leaning forward in his signature style that made it seem like he was berating the entire city.

“This just in!” his gravelly voice boomed over the speakers, loud enough to drown out even the relentless honking of taxis. “Another so-called heroic escapade by your friendly neighborhood Spider-Menace. Earlier today, the webbed wonder was spotted in a disastrous attempt to thwart a robbery in Queens, leaving chaos in his wake!”

[Name] watched as shaky footage played on the screens, showing Spider-Man swinging between buildings, dodging blasts of some kind of energy weapon. The scene cut back to Jameson, his face practically crimson with indignation. “Let me be clear, folks,” he continued, wagging a finger for emphasis. “Spider-Man isn’t saving this city. He’s putting you in danger—plain and simple!"

The light changed, but [Name] found herself rooted to the spot for a moment longer, watching the broadcast. Around her, New Yorkers barely glanced up, accustomed to Jameson's rants and the endless stream of breaking news. To [Name], though, it was a strange reminder of the world she now lived in—a world where superheroes and supervillains were part of the daily grind.

She shook her head and stepped into the crosswalk, weaving through the sea of pedestrians. Whatever her own challenges were, she figured, at least she wasn’t tangled up in all that. For now, her focus had to stay on making her own way in this city, one step at a time.

===================================

[Name] pushed open the glass doors of the New York Bulletin, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and a warm bag of takeout wafting up from her hands. The front desk clerk barely glanced up as she hurried past, juggling the precarious tray and paper bag while trying to avoid bumping into her colleagues. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, echoing in a way that made her feel small—just another cog in the relentless machine of the magazine world.

She arrived at her boss’s office, setting the coffee and lunch order down on the edge of his sprawling mahogany desk. He didn’t even look up from his computer, offering only a curt “Thanks,” before diving back into whatever important task demanded his attention.

At her desk—a tiny corner carved out in the bullpen—[Name] pulled out her notebook. Her coffee-stained to-do list stared back at her, mocking her ambitions. Gripping her pen, she doodled absentmindedly in the margins, her thoughts drifting to the stories she wanted to tell, the words she was desperate to write. She couldn’t let this be her only reality. There had to be a way to prove herself, to claw her way out of the errands and into the writing she was born to do.

Before [Name] could take another sip of her now-lukewarm coffee, her work phone buzzed. The caller ID flashed her boss’s name—“Mr. Caldwell”—and she reluctantly answered.

“[Name], I need you to handle a few things for me,” Mr. Caldwell’s voice came through, brisk and to the point. “I’ve got an important meeting this afternoon with Diane Hartridge from Hamilton Publishing. Big deal for us. So, here’s what I need: send out those follow-up emails I dictated yesterday, book me a lunch appointment with Hartridge for next Tuesday, and drop off a package at this address.”

She heard the shuffle of papers on his end before he rattled off an address. [Name] scribbled it down on a notepad, recognizing the street as one not far from her own apartment.

“Yes, sir,” she said, forcing a professional tone into her voice. She could already feel the familiar twinge of frustration creeping in. Meetings with publishing executives, conversations about big deals—those were the kinds of things she had dreamed of being involved in. Instead, here she was, taking notes like an intern.

“And once you’ve dropped that off, you can take the rest of the day off,” Caldwell added, as though offering her a generous gift. “Consider it a breather. You’ve earned it.”

[Name] bit back a sigh. “Got it,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. Hanging up, she glanced at the tasks now piling up on her mental to-do list.

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

Back at her desk, she typed furiously, knocking out the follow-up emails with clockwork efficiency. Each one had to be just so—polished, professional, and perfectly aligned with her boss’s expectations. Once she hit send on the last email, she tackled the lunch appointment, navigating the online booking system while fielding interruptions from passing colleagues.

Half an hour later, with her inbox cleared and the reservation confirmed, [Name] leaned back in her chair and allowed herself a fleeting moment of satisfaction. One set of tasks done.

Grabbing her bag and the package from the reception desk, she stepped out into the midday chaos of Manhattan. The familiar surge of people, cars, and noise hit her immediately, but at least the errand would take her near her neighbourhood. She adjusted the strap of her bag, holding the package securely under one arm as she navigated the sidewalks.

Moving in step with the endless tide of Manhattan pedestrians, [Name] felt almost invisible amid the city’s chaotic rhythm. As she turned the corner, a boutique caught her eye, its window display glowing softly under the midday sun. There, on a mannequin, was a dress that immediately drew her in—a soft lavender piece that was sweet and understated. The hem hit mid-thigh, just a few widths away from the knees, with delicate white lace ribbons crisscrossing over the bodice and tied into a playful little bow at the sweetheart neckline. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was undeniably feminine, with just the right touch of charm.

[Name] hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the boutique, the bell above the door chiming softly as she entered. The quiet hum of conversation and the fresh, clean scent that lingered in the air made the shop feel like a little oasis from the noise outside.

“Can I help you find anything?” a cheerful sales assistant asked, her warm smile matching the inviting atmosphere.

“I was actually hoping to try on the lavender dress in the window,” [Name] said, her voice laced with a shy excitement.

“Of course! Let me grab your size,” the assistant replied, quickly disappearing into the back.

A few minutes later, [Name] stood in front of a full-length mirror in the dressing room, smoothing out the soft fabric over her hips. The dress fit perfectly, the lavender colour complimenting her complexion and the crisscrossing lace ribbons adding a playful, feminine flair. She smiled, turning slightly to admire the way it flattered her figure. It was exactly what she needed for the get-together that evening—a simple yet pretty reminder that, even amidst the chaos of her first week, there was still room for moments like this.

“This is the one,” she told herself quietly, nodding with conviction as she stepped back into her own shoes.

Within minutes, she was back out on the street, the boutique’s shopping bag swinging lightly in her hand. The day didn’t seem quite as daunting now. Tonight, she’d celebrate in her new dress, and maybe—just maybe—she’d let herself believe that she belonged here, even if things hadn’t gone exactly as she had planned.

=========================================

The bass thumped through the crowded bar, reverberating under [Name]’s feet as she leaned on the high-top table. The evening had been a lively blur of laughter, drinks, and getting to know her colleagues—Hannah, who worked in layout design, and Megan, one of the junior writers. [Name] was starting to feel like she was finding her footing, a stark contrast to the awkward chaos of her first day.

“Wait, so you actually spilled coffee on him? On Caldwell?” Megan asked, her eyes wide with mock horror as she took a sip of her wine.

“Straight on him,” [Name] said, laughing despite herself. “It was everywhere—his desk, his papers, him. I thought I was going to be fired on the spot, but he just looked at me and said, ‘You’ve got five minutes to get me another latte.’”

“That’s iconic,” Hannah said, grinning. “Honestly, not bad for a first day. Could’ve been worse.”

They all burst into laughter, and Megan raised her glass. “To surviving your first week!” she declared, her enthusiasm infectious.

“To surviving,” Hannah echoed, clinking her glass against theirs.

[Name] couldn’t help but smile as their glasses met with a cheerful ring. She felt a spark of warmth in her chest, the camaraderie lifting her spirits. For the first time in a while, she felt like she belonged—at least, a little.

The moment shifted as a couple of guys approached their table, clearly familiar with Hannah and Megan. The women greeted them with easy smiles, the conversation quickly veering into shared anecdotes and inside jokes that [Name] didn’t quite follow. Not wanting to intrude, she offered to grab another round of drinks for the three of them.

Squeezing through the throng of people, she made her way to the bar. It was packed, but she managed to find a small gap to slide into, catching the bartender’s attention after a few minutes of patient waiting. As she rattled off their order, the music thumped louder, almost drowning out her voice. She shifted her weight, waiting for the drinks, when she felt a presence sidle up beside her.

“Hey there,” a man said, his voice just audible over the blaring music. [Name] turned her head to see him leaning against the bar, his shirt slightly untucked and a confident smirk on his face.

“You here alone?” he asked, his tone casually suggestive.

“No, I’m here with friends,” she replied, keeping her voice polite but firm. She’d dealt with this type before—overconfident, pushy, and oblivious to boundaries. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

“Ah, come on,” he pressed, leaning closer. “I could keep you company.”

“I’m good, thanks,” [Name] said sharply, her grip tightening on the bar as the bartender set the drinks down in front of her. She grabbed them quickly, balancing the glasses carefully in her hands. “Excuse me.”

The man stepped back, raising his hands as though he’d done nothing wrong. “Alright, alright. No need to be like that,” he said with a crooked grin before disappearing into the crowd.

By the time she got back to the table, her heart was steady again, her annoyance at the man already dissipating into the noise and energy of the bar. Hannah and Megan noticed her expression, though, their conversation pausing briefly.

“Everything okay?” Megan asked, setting her drink down.

“Yeah,” [Name] said, sliding the glasses onto the table. “Just some guy at the bar who couldn’t take no for an answer.”

“What a creep,” Hannah muttered, her gaze darting toward the bar. “Stick with us. We’ve got your back.”

Nodding grateful for the solidarity. She sat back down, forcing herself to focus on the laughter and warmth at the table. Encounters like that weren’t new to her, but they were never pleasant. Still, she wasn’t about to let one guy ruin her night.

As the night wore on, the music seemed to pulse through every corner of the bar, and she found herself swept up in the rhythm with Hannah and Megan. The three of them laughed as they danced in a small circle, occasionally bumping into each other as the crowd pressed around them. Hannah threw her arms up with exaggerated flair, spinning in time to the beat, while Megan leaned in to shout over the music, “You’ve got moves, girl! Where’ve you been hiding these?”

She laughed, shaking her head as she tried to keep up. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the pounding of the bass, the heat of the room, and the infectious energy of shared joy. They pulled her into a silly line dance, half stumbling and laughing through it, before dissolving into giggles at their own lack of coordination.

“I needed this,” Megan said, fanning herself dramatically as they paused to catch their breath. “Best idea ever.”

Hannah nodded, her cheeks flushed from both the dancing and her gin and tonic. “Agreed. But I think our admirers might have other ideas.”

The guys from earlier had appeared at the edge of the dance floor, waving them over with playful grins. Hannah shot Megan a look, and the two of them exchanged mischievous smiles before turning back to her.

“We’re gonna head out with them,” Hannah said, placing a light hand on her arm. “You okay getting home?”

She nodded, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

“Text us when you’re home, okay?” Megan said, pulling her in for a quick hug.

Hannah gave a quick wave as they linked arms with the two guys, disappearing into the crowd. Left alone under the flashing lights of the bar, she lingered for a moment, letting the music wash over her. The night had been fun—chaotic, vibrant, exactly what she needed—but as she glanced at the time on her phone, she decided it was probably time to call it herself.

Grabbing her bag, she slipped out of the bar into the cool embrace of the city night. The vibrant pulse of music and chatter faded as the door swung shut behind her, replaced by the layered hum of Manhattan—the sporadic honk of a cab, muffled voices from passing groups, and the occasional rumble of a subway train beneath her feet.

The air was crisp and carried the faint scent of rain on concrete, grounding her as she started walking. She pulled out her phone, glancing at the map briefly to reorient herself. The bar was in a part of the city she didn’t know too well, and the unfamiliar street names were a little disorienting. Still, she figured she’d find her way soon enough. After all, getting lost was part of the charm of living in Manhattan—wasn’t it?

She took a right, then a left, but the streets didn’t seem to align with where she thought she should be. A few blocks later, she realized she might have gone too far in the wrong direction. The tall buildings seemed to close in slightly, their windows glinting faintly under dim streetlights. Her grip on the strap of her bag tightened as she slowed her steps, scanning for a recognizable landmark.

Then she heard it. Footsteps. Heavy and deliberate. They weren’t her own.

Her heart tightened as she slowed her pace, ears straining against the quiet. She risked a glance over her shoulder but saw nothing—just the stretch of empty sidewalk behind her. A chill pricked at the back of her neck, and she shook her head, trying to dispel the creeping paranoia. It’s nothing, she told herself. Just someone else heading home.

But the sound didn’t fade. It grew louder. Closer.

Her heart raced as she quickened her pace, scanning the empty streets for something familiar. Turning into an alley in a desperate attempt to shortcut her way back, she froze. Ahead, blocking the far end, stood two burly men, their shadows stretched long under the dim, flickering streetlight. They didn’t move, but their stance left no question—they were waiting.

Her breath caught, and she spun around, instinctively stepping back toward the entrance she had come through. But her stomach dropped as she saw him. The man from the bar emerged from the shadows behind her, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets as if he’d been out for a leisurely stroll. His smirk was gone, replaced by something far darker. The gleam in his eyes sent a cold shiver down her spine.

He took a slow step forward, his movements deliberate, the click of his shoes echoing against the walls of the alley. “Looks like you got a little turned around,” he said, his voice low and sinister, the friendliness he had feigned earlier now stripped away. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you find your way.”

[Name]’s chest tightened, and her hand gripped the strap of her bag as her mind raced for an exit. Trapped between the men blocking her path and him closing in behind, she felt the weight of the alley pressing down on her like a vice. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go.

The man’s smirk twisted into something even darker as he stepped closer, the dim light catching the cold gleam in his eyes. She instinctively took another step back, her breath quickening, but before she could fully process her next move, he lunged.

The suddenness of it made her heart slam in her chest. She jerked back, her movement instinctual and desperate, only to collide hard with something solid. A startled gasp escaped her as she spun around, realizing too late that she had backed straight into the other two men. Their hands shot out like vices, one grabbing her by the arm, the other seizing her bag and yanking her balance off-center.

“Got her,” one of them muttered, his voice gravelly, the sound of it reverberating in her ears as panic clawed its way up her throat.

She twisted and pulled, trying to wrench herself free, but their grips only tightened. The man from the bar loomed closer now, his steps deliberate and almost lazy, as if he already knew the struggle was futile. He adjusted his sleeves, his calm movements a sinister contrast to the chaos surging through her body.

“You made this way too easy,” he said, his voice dripping with malice....

Before he could make contact, a cheery, almost sing-song voice interrupted. “Yoohoo!”

The man froze, his head snapping to the side as Spider-Man crouched casually on the edge of the building above them, giving an awkward wave. “I think it’s you who made this easy,” he quipped, the web-shooters on his wrists already aimed and primed. With a swift flick, a sticky line of web shot out, pinning the man to the brick wall behind him. His smirk disappeared in an instant, replaced by a look of shocked indignation.

“Hang tight,” Spider-Man said, hopping down into the alley with a graceful flip. He landed between [Name] and the two burly men, who were momentarily too stunned to move. “Alright, fellas. Who’s next?”

The bigger of the two lunged, throwing a wide, meaty punch in Spider-Man’s direction. Without breaking a sweat, Spidey caught the punch mid-swing, his free hand scratching at the back of his head as though this was all mildly inconvenient. “Man, you guys really need to work on your timing. Swing and a miss,” he said, twisting the man’s arm just enough to send him stumbling backward.

Before the other man could make a move, Spider-Man shot out another web, sticking his feet firmly to the ground. The guy flailed awkwardly, looking down at his now-immobile boots as Spider-Man turned to him. “And you,” he said, wagging a finger like a disappointed teacher. “I think you should apologize to the lady. Right now. Loudly. And use your nicest manners.”

He tilted his head toward [Name], who stood frozen in shock, her heart still racing from the encounter. Spider-Man turned back to the first man, webbed securely to the wall, and offered a mockingly thoughtful hum. “What about you, Smirky McCreepy? Anything to say for yourself? Or are you good hanging out there?”

The bigger man sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Apologize? To her? Screw you, Spider-Man.”

“Yeah,” the other chimed in, struggling against the webbing that pinned his feet to the ground. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Spider-Man sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “You know, I try to give people a chance. I really do. But you guys just had to go and ruin it.” With a flick of his wrist, another web shot out, sticking the last man to the ground before he could even think about making a move. “There. Now you’re all grounded. Literally.”

He tapped the side of his mask. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you let the NYPD know we’ve got a few bad apples here? Alley off 12th and Main. Oh, and tell them to bring extra cuffs—these guys are a bit... sticky.”

“Message sent,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s calm voice replied in his earpiece.

Spider-Man turned his attention back to [Name], his posture relaxing as he approached her. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his tone softer now. “I mean, I know this probably wasn’t how you planned your night, but... you’re safe now.”

Spider-Man shifted his weight from foot to foot, scratching the back of his head as if he’d suddenly forgotten how to stand properly. “So, uh,” he started, his voice cracking just slightly. “That was, uh, intense, right? I mean, not that I can’t handle it—I totally can—but, you know, I guess you didn’t sign up for alleyway creeps tonight.”

Her heartbeat was still racing, but his awkwardness was oddly comforting. She nodded, managing a small smile. “No, not exactly.”

“Yeah, figured,” he said, nodding along with her, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t making things worse. “Uh, you’re not hurt or anything, right? No bumps, bruises, or weird Spidey-induced whiplash?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said, adjusting her bag. “Thanks for, you know… all of that.” She gestured vaguely toward the webbed-up men behind him, their muffled protests starting to quiet.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “I mean, seriously, don’t mention it—I kind of like to keep the whole ‘friendly neighbourhood’ thing on the down-low. You know, keep the mystery alive.”

Her smile widened a fraction, and he seemed to relax slightly. “So, uh,” he continued, gesturing toward the street. “Do you, like, know how to get home? Or...?”

She hesitated, glancing around at the unfamiliar streets. “Not really,” she admitted. “This isn’t my usual neighbourhood. I was trying to find my way back to East Harlem.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, his tone brightening. “East Harlem—cool area! Amazing food, great vibes, and, uh, let’s be honest, fewer creeps like these guys.” He gestured toward the webbed-up men behind him. “I can totally get you there! You know, as a bonus for saving the day—or, uh, the night.”

He stepped a little closer, his movements tentative as he caught her uneasy expression. “Hey, uh, you okay? That was… intense,” he said, his voice softening, as if the words were trying to land as gently as possible. “Not that I’m an expert on post-creep alleyway vibes or anything, but you look like you could use an express pass out of here.”

She hesitated, glancing back at the men stuck to the wall. The adrenaline still buzzed through her veins, but the idea of staying here a second longer made her stomach churn. “Yeah,” she said quietly, the word slipping out before she fully realized. “That’d be great.”

His masked head tilted slightly, like he was offering an unseen reassuring smile. “Alright, awesome. So, uh, what’s the plan? Should we do the ‘swinging-through-the-city’ thing? I mean, it’s faster than walking… and less awkward than small talk while we dodge fire hydrants.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his casual delivery. “You mean, like... swing? Swing-swing?”

“Yeah!” His voice brightened again as he straightened up, excited by her cautious curiosity. “Trust me, it’s like Uber, but with webs instead of wheels. And also no ratings, please, because I’m still workshopping my moves.”

Her laughter came unexpectedly, cutting through the edge of her fear. “Okay,” she said, brushing her hair out of her face. “Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” His arms shot into the air briefly in triumph before he caught himself. “I mean, cool. Great. Just hold on tight, and, uh, I promise I’ll try not to do any unnecessary flips. You know, unless it looks super cool.”

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, checking her expression to make sure she was okay with the proximity. When she nodded, he shot a web upward and leapt into the air. The world blurred as they arced high above the city, the rhythmic thwip of his webbing almost hypnotic. Her initial fear dissolved into awe as the view opened up—streetlights stretched below like strings of gold, and the warm summer breeze brushed her face.

“So,” he called over the wind, his tone as conversational as if they were sitting in a café, “East Harlem, huh? You got a favourite taco spot over there, or is it all just about the vibes?”

She laughed, adjusting to the thrill of being weightless. “I just moved here, actually,” she replied. “Still figuring it all out.”

“Perfect timing, then!” he replied, swinging them over a row of townhouses. “If you’re new, you have to try this one little taco truck on 116th. Oh, and there’s this churro cart on the corner of Lex—it’ll change your life. Like, I once ate five in one sitting, and I don’t even have a normal human metabolism.”

Landing briefly on a rooftop, he recalibrated, looking back at her. “Doing okay? I mean, like, no motion sickness or second thoughts?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling despite herself. “This is… kind of amazing.”

“Kind of?” He playfully gasped, launching them back into the air. “Alright, I’m gonna do, like, 12% more flips now. Just wait—it’ll be amazing amazing.”

She laughed again, the sound surprising even her, as the city continued to blur and twinkle below. The weight of the night’s events eased with every swing, her unease replaced by a growing sense of wonder—and a strange feeling of safety with the masked hero who seemed more human than super.

=======================================

With one final swing, Spider-Man landed lightly in an alley behind a quiet row of buildings. He set her down gently, stepping back and pulling at his mask slightly to adjust it. “And here we are—East Harlem. Or, well, technically, this very scenic, definitely-not-sketchy alleyway. But hey, you’re close enough, right?” He let out a nervous laugh, motioning around them with exaggerated enthusiasm.

She laughed softly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. The rush of swinging through the city still buzzed through her veins, but now that her feet were on solid ground, she could feel a different kind of energy—one she couldn’t quite explain. “That was incredible,” she said, her voice quieter now, steady.

“Yeah?” he replied, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “Cool, cool. Glad you think so. I mean, it’s not every day you get an airborne tour of the city. Well, unless you’re me. I get a lot of those.”

She stepped closer to him, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. The space between them shrank, and his posture stiffened slightly, as though he hadn’t been prepared for the sudden proximity. “Uh,” he said, his voice cracking just a touch, “you, uh, sure you’re okay? No whiplash? Sore neck? Legs still attached?”

Her lips curved into a small, mischievous smile. She didn’t answer, but her gaze held his, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.

He froze, his mask hiding what was undoubtedly a deer-in-headlights expression. “I mean,” he stammered, gesturing vaguely to the alley, “you’re safe now! Which is—uh—good. Totally good. Safe is good.”

She tilted her head, still not saying anything.

Peter let out a shaky laugh, tugging at the edge of his mask out of nervous habit. He started to take a half-step back, but his body refused to follow through, stuck somewhere between retreat and a kind of hopeful panic.

Then [Name]'s hand touched his cheek, her fingers light even against the textured fabric of his suit. His breath hitched. “Can I kiss you?” she whispered, her voice so soft he wondered if maybe his mind had made it up. His eyes widened behind the mask, and he blinked a few too many times. “Uh—y-yeah, yeah, totally. I mean... yes,” he stammered, tripping over the words.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against the fabric of his mask, teasingly soft against his covered cheek. Peter froze, his breath catching as the expressive eyes of his mask widened in surprise. For a moment, he was all nerves and stammering thoughts, the usual Peter Parker chaos.

But then, in a move that felt bold even for him, he reached up and tugged the mask just high enough to reveal his jaw, his cheek, and the curve of his lips. His heart pounded as he looked at her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe… try that again?”

[Name] leaned in, her lips brushing softly against the bare skin of his cheek. It was quick, almost fleeting, but enough to send a jolt through Peter. His breath hitched audibly, and the eyes of his mask contracted again, wide and expressive.

She hesitated for a moment, watching him, testing the waters. Then, with a small, playful smile, she leaned in again, placing a gentle peck on his other cheek.

Peter’s lips parted slightly, his jaw tensing as if he were trying to process what was happening. His gloved hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, unsure of what to do.

“Uh…” he started, his voice cracking just a little. “I—uh—this is… nice.”

Name] leaned in again, her lips brushing the corner of his, feather-light. A soft sigh escaped her, warm against his skin. Peter’s breath hitched, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

The eyes of his mask contracted slightly, a flicker of surprise and something else—something braver. Slowly, he turned to face her fully, his gaze locking with hers for a heartbeat that felt like forever.

When she leaned in again, her lips found the corner of his once more, lingering just a moment longer. And then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, they both closed the gap. Her lips met his in a proper kiss, soft and unhurried, and Peter melted into it, his gloved hand hovering awkwardly near her shoulder before finally resting there, grounding him in the moment.

What started off as a light peck suddenly turned into a clash of tongues and teeth. He took a step forward, closing the last of the distance between them. Red-gloved hands wrapped around her—one at the waist, just above her lower back, and the other finding purchase at the base of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss. She lightly brushed her index and middle finger against his partially exposed cheek before placing the rest of her hand against his covered neck.

With a firm yet gentle touch, he guides her until she is pressed fully against the wall of her apartment complex. His lower hand shifts from her back to the wall, providing stability. She lets out a breathy moan, her head thrown back, and he takes the chance to lavish wet kisses and licks on her exposed neck.

Peter started prepping kisses along her shoulder and up her neck close to her ear. "Fuck~" he panted out, under the mask his pupils were blown out with the lust coursing through his veins. Looking at her, with her head thrown back, lips parted, and hair all dishevelled, did things to him. His heightened senses caught the quickening of her pulse, the heat rising to her cheeks, every subtle reaction she couldn't hide. He shouldn't—but hearing that single word shattered his restraint. "More~" She whispered, her breath hitching as she brought her face back to his, their lips colliding in a relentless cascade of kisses. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers interlocking at the nape of his neck.

She gasped aloud as she felt him lift her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. Peter took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when he pressed her further into the wall, his weight pinned her in place as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Matching his intensity, her tongue danced with his in a heated battle for dominance. Her nails skimmed down the back of his mask, a deliberate and teasing motion.

It was as if she had become an entirely different person, a vixen. She was filled with wanton lust for man whose face she had never seen, he had an uncanny ability to captivate her completely. All she could feel was the undeniable heat and pulsing from between her thighs and she needed a release, and soon!

"I… I need more~" She whispered breathlessly, her eyes locking onto what little she could see of his face. His shoulders and chest rose and fell with each panting breath, mirroring her own unsteady rhythm. Her hips began to move involuntary against his own grinding down against a very noticeable bulge, what surprised her was his very own hips pushing up to meet her own thrust down. With each meeting of their hips, her summer dress inched up ever so slightly. "Oh... fuck....Just like that" They both panted aloud, in unison.

Peter couldn't take his eyes off (name) the way she gasped at the delicious friction, the way her hips would push harder into his. Enough was enough he decided to take control of her hips, and set a harsher rhythm. Letting one hand slip from her hips, he brought his index finger to his mouth, teeth grazing the glove's edge as he tugged it loose, letting it fall to the ground between them. As his hand came free, he seized her chin, drawing her into a fiercer, more demanding kiss.

Releasing her grip from the back of Peter's neck, she cupped his face, her fingers grazing beneath the mask that still concealed his nose, eyes, and the rest of his features. For a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, fear gripped him like a vice. His fingers trembled as he released her chin, lurching forward to snatch her wrists. He pressed them between their chests with a desperate urgency, his breath caught in his throat. "No," he growled, his voice dipping low and steady. "The mask stays on." Each word carried quiet authority, leaving no room for argument. "Don't make me web your hands to the wall, because trust me, once that stuff's on, it's not coming off anytime soon." he quipped, his tone low but teasing, the corners of his mouth threatening a sly smile. "Kinky," she breathed with a soft laugh, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Before she could dwell any further on the idea of Spiderman's unexpected kinkiness, he shifted the hand gripping her wrists. The ungloved hand descended toward her panties, its movement deliberate and steady. A breath away from where she truly and utterly needed it most. "Please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. Peter chuckled, his cheeky smile widening as he leaned closer. 'Say it again,' he murmured, his tone dropped an octave, rich and teasing, as he leaned in, stopping just a breath away from her ear. Panting heavily, her flushed face turned toward him, she managed to gasp, her voice cracking under the weight of her plea, "Please, touch me."

And just like that, the pad of his index finger brushed against her clothed clit, a touch so light it was barely there. And yet, she felt it all the same—electric, unmistakable, A need so overwhelming, it forced another gasp from her lips. "Fuck! You’re not going to break me," she gasped, her breath hitching, the words desperate.

For a fraction of a second Peter grinned mischievously and pressed the pad of his finger further into her covered clit. His head dropped onto her shoulder, a deep, guttural groan escaping him as though he could no longer hold it back - at how damp her lace panties were. He'd made his mind up and surrendered to his baser desires, he deliberately began to coax her clothed core into submission with slow, deliberate strokes. His fingers danced across her sensitive skin in lazy circles, gradually increasing the pressure until she was writhing beneath his touch.

As he continued to tease her with his fingers, the slow, deliberate strokes ignited a fire within her, a flame that grew in intensity with each passing moment. The lazy circles he drew on her skin seemed to awaken a deep-seated hunger, a craving that threatened to consume her. Her body began to writhe and twist, her hips arching into his touch as she sought to increase the pressure, to deepen the sensation.

The fabric of her clothing, once a barrier, now seemed to enhance the experience, the gentle friction of the material against her skin adding an extra layer of sensitivity to the mix. His fingers, deft and skilled, coaxed and cajoled, drawing out a response from her that was both involuntary and irresistible. The pressure he applied, gradual and insistent, pushed her closer to the edge, until she was gasping, her breath coming in short, sharp pants.

Strokes grew more insistent, the pressure increasing, she felt herself being drawn into a vortex of sensation, a whirlpool of pleasure that threatened to pull her under. Her legs, once still, now began to tremble, the muscles tensing and relaxing in time with the strokes, as if urging Peter on, begging him to continue. The air around them seemed to vibrate with tension, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric, the gentle gasps of breath, and the pounding of their hearts, all combining to create a sense of anticipation, a sense of expectation, that seemed to build and build, until it was almost unbearable.

"Oh God," [Name] whispered, her voice trembling with need. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Just a little longer," Peter replied, his voice low and husky. "I just… I don’t want this moment to end. You’re—you’re so beautiful."

And then, just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Peter's fingers changed rhythm, his touch becoming more urgent, more demanding. But instead of pushing her over the edge, he suddenly pulled his fingers away, leaving her feeling empty and bereft.

She let out a cry of disappointment, but Peter just smiled, his masked eyes narrowing intensity. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting the sweet nectar that coated them. His eyes closed in rapture as he savoured the flavour, and she could see the realization dawn on him.

Untangled her legs from around his waist, he dropped to his knees, but in a swift and agile motion, he got her right leg over his shoulder on the way down. The movement was so smooth, so fluid, that [Name] barely had time to process what was happening before she found herself in a new and intimate position.

Peter's face was now buried in her pussy, his tongue licking out to taste her as he supported her weight on his shoulder. She felt his hot breath on her, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to drive her wild. Her leg was draped over his shoulder, her foot dangling in the air as he knelt before her, worshiping her with his mouth.

But as he delved deeper, his desire for her became more frenzied. With a swift and savage motion, he ripped her panties down the middle, the fabric tearing apart with a soft rip. [Name] felt a jolt of shock and excitement as the cool air hit her exposed skin, but before she could even process what was happening,

Peter's tongue was back, licking and sucking and probing with even greater intensity. As he continued to devour her, his fingers began to explore, gently probing her entrance before slipping inside. He started with one finger, his index finger, which he slowly inserted into her, feeling her inner walls clench around him. She was tight, but he was patient, taking his time to stretch her out, to prepare her for what was to come.

He began to add more fingers, his middle finger joining his index finger, and then his ring finger, slowly stretching her out until all three fingers were inside her. His fingers curled inside, hitting the spongy tissue that caused her to see stars. She could feel it—an overpowering surge building within, each wave cresting higher, stronger, relentless in its climb toward an inevitable breaking point. And he was her release—this masked hero who currently had her right leg thrown over his shoulder going for gold between her legs.

As he continued to finger her, moving his fingers in and out, in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. His fingers danced inside her, stroking her inner walls, building her pleasure, and driving her wild. With each stroke, he felt her getting closer, her muscles tensing, her breath catching, and he knew that she was on the edge, ready to tumble over into ecstasy.

(Name) couldn’t remember if he’d surfaced for air—he was a starving man, lost in an unrelenting desert, and she, the first drink of water, burned across his senses, igniting something raw and untamed within him. "I could die here, and I wouldn’t even care. This—this is everything" he groaned, his voice thick with passion, His masked eyes narrowed, the expressive lenses contracting as they locked onto hers. His focus was solely on her, and he could see the pleasure and desire reflected back at him, fuelling his own passion and driving him to take her higher.

She broke eye contact, her gaze faltering as she caught sight of her glistening juices clinging to his chin and lips, a sight both distracting and impossible to ignore... Because, damn, was that hot. All she wanted was to run her hands over his head, but that infuriating mask was in the way. "Don't stop," she begged, her head falling back against the rough brick wall, the cold surface grounding her as the moment consumed her entirely. Huffing a quick chuckle, he was back in an instant, his movements swift and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

And just like that, the brutal onslaught slammed into her, unyielding and merciless, tearing through her with a force that left no escape, no reprieve, only raw, consuming need. God, could this man eat! His tongue swept over her clit in endless, tantalizing licks—a raw display of pure indulgence. His fingers were unyielding as they bullied her G-spot, retreating only to plunge the trio of digits back in with relentless precision, leaving her wondering if she could endure the exquisite torture for much longer.

(Name) could feel the intense, building pressure, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to overwhelm her, and she knew that if he continued, she wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer, the anticipation and frustration coalescing into a desperate, aching need that begged for just one more touch, one more twirl of his tongue, to send her tumbling over the edge. And just like that, the taut thread of her control snapped, releasing a torrent of pent-up pleasure as her body surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, the dam breaking in a rush of ecstasy that left her shattered,

Peter felt her hand clasp the back of his mask as her back arched, a breathy "Oh~ Oh~, I'm," Her head was flung back, the tendons in her neck straining as her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth agape in a soundless scream, the only sign of her ecstasy a faint, keening gasp that escaped her parted lips. She had no need to announce her climax, for he could sense it in the way her core clamped down around his hand, the right one trembling violently over his shoulder as her body convulsed, and the sudden, silky rush of her cum on his tongue, a primal, instinctual knowledge that sparked a corresponding surge of pride within him.

Coming down from her high, gasps and shallow breaths spilling from her parted lips, she felt an overwhelming urge to tug away the mask of the man kneeling before her. She wanted to see him—not as the faceless figure in the suit, but as the person beneath.

Peter’s Spider-Sense tingled, and his reflexes kicked in. He felt it—the subtle tightening of her hand at the back of his head, the faint tug that followed. Adrenaline surged through him, and his left hand instinctively moved, smacking softly against the wrist of her right hand.

A splat echoed, and her right hand froze in place—she couldn’t move it. Did he? No… he had! He’d done exactly what he’d warned about, webbing her hand firmly to the wall. Lowering her leg from his shoulder, he wiped his chin and lips with his uncovered hand - succumbing to the irresistible urge to lick his fingers.

Despite having just been nestled between her thighs, his fingers still slick with the remnants of her climax, Peter couldn't resist the urge to bring them to his lips, and as he sucked the fingers that had just been inside her, he let out a low, throaty groan, the sound vibrating through the air as he savoured the taste of her, his eyes closing in rapture as he indulged in her flavour. "I told you—the mask stays on."

She wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t—not after the performance. The low, husky tone of his voice, the gentle rumble of his words, and the unmistakable bulge in his pants, all combined to send a pulse of heat straight back to her core, reigniting the embers of her desire and making her feel like she was being pulled under again.

She struggled to pull her wrist free from the webbing that bound her to the wall. "The more you struggle, the tighter it’ll hold you to the wall," he said, his tongue flicking out to brush against his bottom lip. "What?" she gasped, her chest heaving, her breasts straining against the sweetheart neckline as she looked at him bewildered. Noticing the way the eyes of his mask narrowed, his head dipping slightly downward, and the faint, almost hesitant curve of an awkward smile on his lips. "Up here," she called out to him, all traces of nervousness and embarrassment tossed to the wind as she pointed to her eyes.

His head snapped toward her, only to dart away just as quickly. In an instant, he stood at his full height as F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice slipped into his ear, calm but urgent: 'There’s a robbery happening right now at Artisan and Carat in Midtown Manhattan—seven heavily armed suspects, three hostages.' He bent down, retrieving his discarded glove with practiced ease, as F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice chimed in once more, her tone still measured but tinged with urgency. 'If you leave now, estimated arrival is approximately ten minutes. Casualty risk remains low, but it’s increasing,' she informed him crisply. As she spoke, a video feed patched through to his mask’s holographic interface, displaying live footage of the robbers inside the store. His jaw tightened as he took in the scene—the heavily armed suspects pacing, their movements erratic, and the hostages cowering in fear.

She wondered what had caused the sudden shift in his demeanor. One moment, he had been looking at her with that awkward, almost endearing smile, and the next, he was tense and poised, as if ready to spring into action. Her thoughts were interrupted as he reached for the glove on the ground, sliding it back onto his hand with a practiced efficiency. The motion only added to the growing sense that something unseen was pulling him away, his focus no longer on her but on some urgent, invisible call.

He glanced at her, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features as he struggled with the decision. The need to tell her what was happening warred with the urgency to act, to save the hostages before it was too late.

She watched as he adjusted the mask, the transformation so swift it left her breathless. In an instant, he was Spider-Man again—an untouchable figure, every trace of vulnerability buried beneath the red-and-blue façade. Yet, she knew something had shifted. She didn’t need to hear the words to feel the weight of them; the urgency radiating from him was undeniable. Whatever had happened, it was pulling him away.

Peter hesitated, torn by the fear that the woman he'd shared such an intimate moment with might think he had used her. Yet, as F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice punctuated the seconds with time estimates and escalating risks, he knew he had no choice but to act.

Backing into the alley, Peter’s voice came in a rush, tumbling over itself. "The web’s gonna dissolve! Like, really soon! Stop struggling, you’re only gonna make it worse!" The words left his mouth so quickly, they almost blurred together.

Without waiting for a response—or even checking if she listened—he shot a webline and launched himself forward. The pull of the swing was immediate, his grip tightening as he zipped up and away. The city blurred beneath him, a streak of light and sound.

“Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. snapped in his earpiece, her tone clipped. “You’re three blocks off course. Redirect immediately.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” he shouted back, adjusting his trajectory mid-swing. His breath was quick, his heart racing as the sharp whistle of wind roared in his ears.

Behind him, her faint voice reached him for just a moment—a fleeting sound he couldn’t make out before the city swallowed it whole. It lingered in his mind, though, even as F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s next instruction pierced the chaos.

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

She watched as he backed into the alley, the weight of his words hitting her like a blow. "The web’s gonna dissolve! Like, really soon! Stop struggling, you’re only gonna make it worse!" he called out, his voice sharp and hurried. Panic welled up inside her as she saw the decision he'd already made.

Before she could stop him, he sprang into action, launching himself forward. His web shot out, anchoring to a building, and in a heartbeat, he was gone—soaring through the night sky, the city swallowing him up. Desperation clawed at her throat, and she shouted after him, her voice breaking, "Wait! Don’t leave me like this!"

The cold reality hit her like a wave—she was trapped. Lace panties ripped and discarded pinned to the wall of the alley behind her apartment complex, she struggled against the sticky web, but it held firm. Her eyes darted to her purse, lying just out of reach on the ground. Panic crept in as she thought of everything inside—her phone, her keys—everything she needed to free herself or call for help.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, steadying the panic that threatened to consume her. The sticky web anchored her firmly to the wall, leaving her helpless but determined to keep calm. Her gaze landed on her purse, lying just out of reach, and a flicker of frustration crept in.

"Spider-Man," she murmured softly, almost to herself, her voice tinged more with disbelief than anger. A faint ache settled in her chest—not from the web, but from the realization that he had left her here, pinned and powerless, without so much as a second glance. She shifted her weight, trying to slide down the wall, but the web’s grip made even that a struggle, her pinned hand rendering the effort awkward and futile.

The sting of his absence was sharper than the situation itself. Only moments ago, they'd shared something so raw, so vulnerable, and yet he'd left her here, tangled in this mess without a word of explanation. Did it mean nothing to him? The thought gnawed at her, a hollow ache twisting in her chest. She had trusted him, let him in—and now, she was abandoned and alone.

The weight of it settled over her, sharp and unrelenting. She blinked back the tears threatening to spill, her chest stinging as the reality sank in. She’d been the one to kiss him first, to close the distance between them—but she had thought it meant something more. The way he had taken off, leaving her pinned and alone, stung in a way she hadn’t expected.

Her shoulders trembled slightly as she steadied her breathing, forcing herself to push the hurt aside. Once she was free, that would be it. Spider-Man could swing off into the night for all she cared. She wouldn’t think about him again—not his voice, not his touch, not the way he’d made her feel, if only for a moment.

He didn’t deserve it.

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

Well... If you got this far then I guess you've finished the first part, and all I want to say is "What did you think?" 😊😳

sorry for any mistakes!

XOXO

[luvashli]

Synopsis -> you are pulled into a mysterious mansion where seven men are bound by a dark pact. As you navigates their secrets, desires, and emotional turmoil, you must decide whether to break free or embrace your dangerous connection with them all, uncovering love and sacrifice along the way.

12 -> A New Resolve

The storm showed no signs of letting up as Heeseung sank into the armchair near the fireplace, his head in his hands. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on him like the thunder rumbling outside. The flames in the hearth crackled softly, their warmth doing nothing to soothe the cold dread pooling in his chest.

“I’m such an idiot,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers, the drink in his hand long forgotten on the table beside him.

He hadn’t meant to say it. He wasn’t even supposed to know the full extent of the pact, let alone share it with you. But watching the anger and betrayal in your eyes had gutted him in a way he couldn’t explain. Because it wasn’t just guilt about the pact anymore.

It was you.

“Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?” he hissed, clenching his fists until his nails dug into his palms. He replayed the moment in his mind—your voice cracking, your retreating figure, the storm echoing your fury. His chest tightened. He should’ve said something else, anything else. But the truth had spilled out before he could stop it.

And now he’d pushed you further away.

Heeseung sat forward, gripping his hair, his breaths coming faster. He hadn’t told you everything—not even close. The pact wasn’t just a cruel binding forcing them together. It wasn’t some heartless ritual designed to manipulate you. No, the connection was deeper, more insidious than that. And worst of all? It wasn’t supposed to include feelings.

But it did.

It did, because somewhere along the way, he had fallen. So had the others.

Heeseung had been the first to notice it—the way his chest tightened when you smiled, the way his heart raced when you walked into a room. He’d shoved it down, buried it beneath the pact’s cold logic. But as the others started showing the same signs, he’d realized there was no escaping it. And now? Now you thought it was all fake, all manipulation.

“Stupid,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m so stupid.”

Heeseung stood abruptly, pacing in front of the fire. He should’ve never let it go this far. Never let his own emotions blur the line between duty and desire. And now he’d gone and broken the one rule that had been drilled into them from the beginning: Do not let her know everything. Don’t let her know what we feel.

Because if you knew the truth, it could unravel everything—not just the pact, but whatever fragile thread was holding the seven of them, and you, together.

The thought made his stomach twist, a sharp pang of regret slicing through him. He wanted to fix this. Wanted to tell you everything he couldn’t say earlier. But how could he, when the truth would only make things worse?

Heeseung stopped pacing, staring into the flames as if they could burn away his guilt. “I’ve already ruined it,” he murmured. “She’ll never believe me now.”

The storm outside raged on, a mirror to the chaos inside him. And as he stood there, haunted by your absence and his own mistakes, Heeseung made a silent vow: if there was even the smallest chance to make things right, he’d take it.

Even if it meant breaking himself in the process.

The kiss left you reeling, your mind spinning with the weight of Heeseung’s words. Every stolen glance, every heated moment, every kiss—they all felt different now. The realization sat like a stone in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t shake the look in his eyes when he told you the truth, as if he knew it would destroy something in you.

But it wasn’t just Heeseung.

The others had kissed you, too—Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon—and now, in the dim light of the storm-lashed night, their actions took on a new, bitter meaning. Each kiss was a thread in a web you hadn’t even realized you were caught in.

As thunder rolled in the distance, you stood in the center of the library, staring at the six boys gathered around you. Heeseung was leaning against the fireplace, his face shadowed and unreadable. The others looked at you with varying degrees of confusion and unease, except Sunghoon, who avoided your gaze entirely.

“You told them, didn’t you?” you said, your voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade.

Heeseung nodded once, his jaw tight. “I had to. They needed to know.”

“Did they?” You folded your arms, your voice cold. “Or was that your way of making sure I couldn’t trust any of you anymore?”

“Y/n—” Jay started, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

“No,” you said, your tone firm. “Don’t try to explain this away. I’m done pretending I don’t see what’s happening here.”

The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the distant howl of wind outside. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

“So,” you continued, your gaze sweeping over each of them, “was it all part of the pact? Every kiss, every moment that made me feel like maybe—just maybe—I could trust you?”

“Of course not,” Jungwon said quickly, stepping forward. His voice was soft, pleading. “Y/n, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” you snapped, your anger boiling to the surface. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like all of you were just following some script to keep this stupid pact alive.”

“It’s not that simple,” Sunghoon said quietly, his eyes flicking to yours for the briefest moment before looking away again.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded, your voice rising. “Make me understand why I was stupid enough to believe any of it was real.”

The silence that followed was deafening. None of them seemed able to meet your gaze, and the weight of their guilt pressed against you like a physical force.

“I thought so,” you said bitterly, your chest aching.

“It was real,” Heeseung said, his voice low and raw. “Maybe not at first. But it’s real now.”

You laughed, the sound hollow. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you know how little that means after everything you’ve done?”

“Y/n,” Jay said again, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant. “We never meant to hurt you. We—” He hesitated, glancing at the others. “We care about you. More than we’re supposed to.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply, holding up a hand. “Don’t stand there and tell me you care about me after everything. Do you have any idea how it feels to realize I was nothing more than a pawn in this game?”

“You’re not a pawn,” Jake said, his voice firm. “You’re more than that. To all of us.”

“That’s enough,” you said, taking a step back. “I don’t want to hear it.”

The weight of their stares pressed on you, but you refused to let them see how close you were to breaking. You straightened your spine, forcing steel into your voice.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” you said, your gaze hard. “I’ll help you figure out how to fix this pact or break it or whatever it is we need to do. But from now on, I’m keeping my distance. No more kisses. No more moments. No more of this.” You gestured vaguely to the tension hanging in the room like a storm cloud.

“Y/n, you don’t have to do this,” Heeseung said, his voice desperate.

“Yes, I do,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument. “Because I can’t trust any of you anymore. And honestly? I can’t trust myself either.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and the pain in their eyes only made it worse. But you didn’t waver. You couldn’t afford to.

“If we’re going to fix this, I need to keep the upper hand,” you said, your voice steady. “And that means keeping my distance.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The storm raged outside, the fire casting flickering shadows across the room. Finally, Heeseung nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not what I want,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s what I need.”

Without another word, you turned and walked out of the library, leaving them in stunned silence. As you made your way down the darkened hall, your heart ached with every step.

You wanted to believe them. You wanted to believe that their feelings were real, that you weren’t just some means to an end. But the cracks in your trust ran too deep, and you couldn’t risk falling for something that might shatter you completely.

The storm outside echoed your turmoil, lightning illuminating the halls as you made your way back to your room. You had made your decision.

And there was no turning back now.

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[k-daydreams]

The Pursuit of Feeling Alive: IV. Hot and Cold

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Synopsis: cousin to Rhysand and Morrigan, y/n was once her family’s golden child. Faced with trials and tribulations her whole life, she needed reprieve— a distraction. Until a surprise homecoming opens Pandora’s box, and gives y/n a reality check. Especially facing her once close friend Azriel. Friends to Enemies to lovers trope.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of abuse/trauma, the Court of Nightmares being the worst, noncanon events, and let me just add again ANGST, probably poorly proofread

Authors note: wakey wakey I’ve finally finished part 4!!! Sorry for the delay, it’s been a busy summer! I’ve been burning myself out a wee bit and found it difficult to keep up with the fic and power through writing tbh. Hopefully this was worth the wait. And for treat we get Azriel’s POV. 🫣 Thank you all for the patience and love you all still give!! 🩷

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

The Hewn City never failed to evoke an unsettling unease, sending a chill down your spine with every step. Shadows lurked within the ancient peaks, unseen eyes watching from hidden crevices. Despite this, you strived to maintain a composed façade, refusing to let the Court of Nightmares perceive your inner turmoil. The sensuous strains of music resonated from the throne room, each beat pounding in harmony with your racing heart. The murmurs of the crowd swelled, as Cassian, Mor, and Lucien led the way to the antechamber while Azriel and you trailed behind.

Azriel walked beside you, so close that your fingers practically brushed with every step. At times, his shadow grazed your pinky, leaving you wondering if he noticed. His face remained impassive, devoid of emotion, his gaze fixed ahead. You tried to mirror his demeanor, yet couldn't help stealing glances at him. What thoughts occupied his mind? Was he as nervous as you were? Could he sense the buzzing energy emanating from your side? Memories of the earlier encounter in the foyer flashed through your thoughts—his closeness, his breath on your face, his calloused hand on your hip, the overwhelming scent of cedar and mist. Your stomach did flips at the thought.

"Do you have a staring problem?" His voice broke the silence, his eyes still focused ahead. You realized you had indeed been staring at him.

"I could ask you the same," you retorted smoothly. "For someone who doesn't desire my presence, you seem to do a fair amount of staring." Satisfaction prickled through your body as a mischievous smirk adorned your lips. You fixed your gaze straight ahead now, focusing on the back of Lucien's head.

"I wouldn't call it staring," he replied.

"Then what would you call it?" you inquired, your smirk fading slightly.

"Observing," he stated simply.

"What observations have you made, then?" you challenged, crossing your arms. He remained silent for a few seconds, likely searching for an answer. Seizing the moment, you dared another glance at the shadowsinger and caught him looking at you, specifically at your pushed-up bust from your crossed arms. A glint sparked in your eyes, despite feeling a flush across your cheeks.

"Those observations," clarifying his previous statement. "Typical Illyrian man can despise a woman, yet still ogle her." You watched as his face contorted in anger, his wings rustling, shadows swirling with indifference as he tried to regain composure.

You knew that would irk him the most, knowing how far from the truth it was. He was unlike any Illyrian man you had ever encountered, a gentleman who treated the women in his life like royalty and with respect. But you had found enjoyment causing him some ire knowing how much he could hate his Illyrian roots at times. The group ahead halted at the entrance to the throne room, and before you got too close, you provocatively placed your hand on Azriel's bicep, stopping him. Sliding it up his arm and around his neck, drawing his ear close to your lips.

"It's alright, Shadowsinger. It happens to the best of men. Just don't let it distract you from your duties tonight. Remember, you're supposed to be my fearless protector," you whispered, a sultry tone lacing your words. You felt his jaw tense beneath your fingertips, letting them linger caressing his defined jawline before releasing him. With a concealed smile, you walked toward the group.

"We're just here to make an appearance," Mor reminded, her voice cutting through the tense air turning to face everyone. "Cass, Lucien first, then I'll go, Y/n, and Az last. Let's get this over with please." She turned back around, her gaze determined. Cassian and Lucien made their way towards the grand throne room, Azriel taking his place next to you. The sound of murmuring voices subsided as they entered, the weight of expectation filling the space. You stood tall, despite the ache in your feet, pinning your shoulders back and adopting a stoic expression that concealed the amusement you had just moments ago.

"The official emissary for the Night Court," Mor announced, signaling your turn to make your entrance alongside Azriel. You strode forward, finding solace in the rhythmic beat of the music that still echoed throughout the room. The murmurs grew louder as you traversed the court, determined not to let the disdainful gazes of the Court of Nightmares' courtiers shake your resolve. You were aware that your presence was not welcomed; they saw you as a traitor, the one they had discarded to the Spring Court in the first place. No matter how much you proved yourself worthy and tried to make amends.

The walk to the throne felt interminable, under the scrutiny of judgmental eyes. Finally, you halted before the imposing seat, looking out at the assembled courtiers as the music gradually faded away. Kier and your parents approached, their scowls evident, yet they bowed to you reluctantly.

"The first visit in months, and the High Lord sends us the traitor.” Your father sneered, he spoke to Kier. Your mother nodded in agreement, her features mirroring their shared distaste. Next to you, Azriel emitted a low snarl at their words.

“Good to see you too, Father.” A sweet smile on your lips not letting your already building annoyance show. "Rhysand sends warm wishes," you responded, your voice calm yet tinged with a hint of steel. "He had other pressing matters to attend to. So, I'll be handling our little check-in." Taking a seat on the throne like you always had to make a point. The seat was cold compared to your warm skin, making you sit more upright.

“Why would I dispel any matters to a whore who doesn’t know where their loyalties lie?” Kier said arrogantly. “You had been frolicking in the Day Court last I heard, probably another one of Helion’s play things that he got tired of.”

You traced the serpent that wrapped around the throne’s arm, “my matters in other courts shouldn’t concern you or who I run off with nonetheless.” You noted how Azriel’s shoulders tensed, and he became so still he didn’t look like he was even breathing.

"We thought Amarantha let you rot under the mountain," your mother interjected, her voice laced with venom. She added, “instead she made you even more of a traitorous whore.”

She appeared just as she did during your last encounter—hair braided into an oversized bun that nearly doubled the size of her head, eyes dark as onyx, and fragile as a delicate piece of paper, swathed in her customary high-collared black gown. She no longer resembled a fae; instead, she embodied the beautiful demon who haunts your nightmares, the one who torments you alongside the redheaded evil woman she spoke of in your said nightmares.

The court erupted into whispers, some even cackling at your mother's statement. Azriel took a step forward, his readiness to strike palpable, while your closest friends looked at you with anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest, fueled by a fiery rage that surged through your veins. You couldn't let those memories of what that wicked woman had forced you to do consume you. Instead, you embraced the anger, allowing it to fuel your inner fire. "Give them hell, you've earned it, little star," the note from Rhysand and Feyre echoed in your mind.

The crowd hushed as they noticed the faelights start to flicker in the room, a familiar tingling prickled at you as a surge filled the room that seemed to hum in a whirring vibration. You could taste and smell the bitter tanginess of magic, leaving the room in a thick blanket of trepidation. You inhaled willing yourself to keep the powers at bay, this was your game to play and win; not theirs.

“Music, food, drinks for the courtiers.” You demanded, snapping your fingers, letting the sensuous music drown that hum in the room, and dishes appeared on the tables around the hall. “Celebrate!” Your tone brash, making some of the courtiers flinch and turn away from the scene before them.

Then you rose to your feet, resting a hand on Azriel’s bicep as you sauntered past him toward your parents. A silent command for him to not intervene.

“Must we ruin the courtier's night with frivolous family matters?” You scanned the room to see if any of them paid any mind, then turned your sight to your father and Kier. “Or we can go about our business?” Something in your eyes shifted, a glow that emanated the whirring vibration that everyone could still feel around them despite not hearing it over the music anymore.

“We have nothing to discuss,” your father cleared his throat. He stood his ground as best as he could.

“Is that so?” Inquisitively you looked at three crones in front of you. “Why did the High Lord and Lady send me here so urgently then?”

“At least with you.” Kier interjected, his diadem shining on top of his gold hair. You could feel both the thrum of his and your father’s power slithering through the whir of yours.

“I don’t know why Rhysand trusts formal duties with a treacherous whore.” Your mother spoke boredly.

"Takes a whore to know one, doesn't it?" your voice devoid of emotion as you stared directly into your mother's eyes.

There was no trace of mercy in your gaze as she grew wary, sensing the power simmering beneath your skin. Was it mere coincidence that she took aim at you blindly by the insult of “whore”, or did she truly comprehend the extent of the horrors you—as her daughter—had endured during those unbearable fifty years? Amarantha had forced you to engage in her dark machinations, most of the time leaving you feeling soiled, as if a layer of filth clung to your very being at the mere thought of it.

She began to stammer, her voice trembling. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

So much for not bringing up frivolous family matters.

"I never told Father?" you replied, feigning shock. A flicker of realization flashed across her face as she recognized your seriousness. She pleaded with you to stop, but it was too late. You had held onto this potent piece of blackmail, a weapon you had kept hidden for centuries, ignoring her tearful pleas.

"Do you remember when Beron was here to arrange Mor's marriage?" you mused aloud, placing a hand on your chin as if contemplating. "I found you and him in our personal library, with you bent over Father's favorite reading chair." You glanced at your father, observing his reaction as your words sank in.

The faelights in the chandeliers began to flicker more intensely, rattling globes they were contained in. The music had stopped with your increasing temper, everything you have felt the past week, years—hell over half a century bubbled over. All the pokes, prodes, and resentment from your family was too much. The volley of insults between you and Azriel. Feeling inadequate no matter where you trekked.

Power consumed you beneath your skin, seeming to take over every rational instinct. You glanced at Mor, who sat on the edge of her seat looking skeptical at what you had planned. Your gaze shifted to Kier, locking eyes with him. With a mischievous wink from you, his face drained of color.

"And what about the time I sneaked out of my room late at night and discovered Kier and Mother on the dining room table?" you continued, your voice sickeningly sweet. "You had breakfast where they had fucked only a few hours prior, Father."

You had received more lashings than you could count once your father went into his meetings that day from your mother. Your father's nostrils flared, and he turned to your mother and Kier. The courtiers stood, sensing the impending storm, their conversations growing quieter.

“But I’m a whore?” You laughed bitterly. “When all I’ve done since my husband was murdered was try to make right with this court to prove my loyalty. Under the mountain you don’t know what I sacrificed for this court. Rhys had his reasons for what he did, and I had mine.” By now your eyes burned and your throat tightened at the tears of anger wanting to spill. “But I’m a traitor?”

Your mother had begun shaking silently, looking at you with a wild look in her eyes. That didn’t stop your wrath upon her.

"Should I bring up Thanatos though?"

The mere mention was enough to make your mother scream and charge at you. Azriel and Cassian instinctively unsheathed their weapons, freezing only when the glass containing the faelights shattered.

The tingling and prickling turned to a crackling that had been building up underneath your skin almost all at once came to the surface, creating a feeling you hadn’t felt in years. The lights seemed to mirror your emotions and converge on your mother. The room plunged into darkness and shook as she cried out in pain, the light piercing her body. The gasps of the crowd filled the air as the room went pitch black.

The burning sensation within you gradually subsided to a dull crackling. Panting, your heart hammering, you caught your breath. Anger and duress swelled through you, but you felt a surge of pride through you too. Azriel's shadows caressed your shoulder trying to find you in the dark. Then gently his scarred hand pulled your shoulder back, ensuring your safety. Raising your hand, you waved it through the dark, willing radiant light to materialize at your fingertips. Orbs danced between your fingers as you sent them forth to illuminate the broken chandeliers and lights once more.

As the room regained its illumination, you surveyed your mother's unconscious body, twitching slightly. You hadn't killed her, only shocked her—quite literally. Your father and Kier stood staring at her in shock. You smoothed your dress, brushing away imaginary dirt, and turned to face Azriel, who still had his hand on your shoulder. In his eyes, you detected a hint of concern. You pushed his hand away, glancing at your friends who had seemed to approve. Mor tried to hide her amusement as she covered her mouth with her hand, while Cassian sheathed his weapons cautiously, his eyes darting around the room to make sure no one attacked. Lucien stood from his seat as he watched the scene in front of him in an awe.

"Consider that a warning to think twice before speaking to me, or you'll end up worse off than that traitorous whore.” Nonchalantly readjusting the diadem atop your head.

“You have gotten your wish, Kier. Wait for your High Lord and Lady, I’m sure they won’t be as pleasant as I was.” You grimaced walking past your family. No one dared to speak, still frozen in place as you wordlessly walked out of the throne room the only sound was the glass breaking even more beneath your heels.

You didn’t know where you were walking to, you were just letting your feet take you to wherever in the Hewn City. Was it a wise choice? Probably not, but you didn’t care to think about that. You knew the cavernous hallways like the back of your hand from when you were younger, and you had brought yourself to the only place that had brought you true solace back then. It was an abandoned library in a wing that wasn’t in use for many centuries and by the looks of it, it still hadn’t.

Cobwebs and dust were thick films on furniture and books, the elegantly crafted black mantle fireplace contained a mound of ashes that stirred as you closed the tall dark mahogany doors behind you. You held your hand out, letting the light dance from your fingers to ignite faelights around you like you had in the throne room before waving it to use magic to dust off the your favorite chair to sit in. Kicking off the excruciatingly uncomfortable heels, you tucked your legs underneath you as you sat in the worn leather and mahogany chair. Absent-mindedly tracing the serpents that wrapped up the arms, you just sat staring at the hollow fireplace.

You mulled over everything within the past week, then the past five years, and then the last fifty years… and then the last century. That’s all you seemed to do lately was think of the past. You were so deep in thought, you hadn’t heard the door creak open.

“Are you alright?” Azriel’s deep husky voice echoed concern through the small library. The rasp that always lingered in his words sending an unwarranted shiver through you not expecting anyone to follow you.

“Why would you care to know?” A bitter bite back as he took a seat across from you in the dusty chair.

“I am supposed to be your fearless protector tonight.” He braced his elbows on his knees trying to fit his wings within the seat.

“Right,” you trailed off still staring at the empty fireplace. “Well you don’t have to pretend to care.” You cleared your throat, a lump forming within it.

He chose to ignore your statement. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that extent of your power.”

“She had it coming,” you mumbled.

“I know the healing process can be painful.”

Your head snapped up toward the Shadowsinger to find him already looking at you with the irritating intense look he always gave you.

“Are you trying to be funny?” You said dryly.

He made a gesture with his tragically beautiful scarred hands, “I just know from personal experience.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have used your shadowsinger abilities on me and you wouldn’t have had to find out the hard way?” There was an edge in your tone.

“And maybe,” he clicked his tongue. “Just maybe, if you wouldn’t have been so hellbent on trying to prove something—I wouldn’t have felt the need to use them?”

Your eyes narrowed at him, “I was trying to protect my high lord.”

He scoffed, “he didn’t want our help. He was protecting us, why do you think he didn’t let us know before it was too late?”

“Because I knew Amarantha!” You clenched your fists in your lap. The way she had try to slither into the Spring Court, she had once tried to befriend you. You saw right through her though.

“Then you should’ve known when you snuck under the mountain that it was a trap.” His voice was a lot calmer than yours.

“I was sick of standing back and watching. Watching my friends…my family helpless.” Your heart ached at the confession. “I was locked in a mansion during the Great War because my husband thought he knew better. I then stood back and watched as he plotted with his brothers and father to kill Rhys and his mother and sister without a way to reach any of you. I watched Rhys’ father get slain by Tamlin.”

“I was tired of being a damsel or treated like some dainty noble wife. I was stoned and chastised when I returned for it.” A tear slipped down your cheek finally as you quickly tried to wipe it away. “Yet I wanted to do something to prove to my friends and my court that I wasn’t some treacherous bitch like everyone assumed I was.”

You sniffled, “even with Hybern, Helion didn’t even let me do anything besides go to Dawn to help Nuan and then Adriata to help with human refuges. I begged for days to let me fight, but he insisted it was handled.”

Azriel was quiet, his gaze on you unwavering as he listened. You didn’t know why he stayed and or didn’t interrupt. He had only told you days prior he didn’t care to know what happened to you under the mountain so why did he care to listen about this?

“Like I said, you don’t have to pretend to care about what I have to say.” You untucked your legs, and crossed them instead. You wiped your tears away, embarrassed you let him see you like this.

“You never had to prove to us anything.” Was all Azriel said as he got up from his chair. His scaled armor that had glittered under the lights when he first entered now was matte from the dust. His siphons roared brightly as he walked out of the room without another word leaving you be.

That was the first civilized conversation you had for the first time in forever, at least on his part. You easily flew off the handle nowadays even the weeks prior to leaving the Day Court. Even if he didn’t care to listen, it was nice just to have him sit there and let you send your tangent off to the void of shadows. It felt familiar like the days before you two had played this hot and cold game. You sat there for who knew how long before Mor had found you with Lucien in tow.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Azriel was beside himself with feelings, something that wasn’t out of the norm for him. He always did a good job at keeping his mask of cold on to hide them… except when it came to you. The friction and emotion you caused him drove him crazy. You made him reckless and irrational, often making him aggravated, and in the end taking it out on you.

He told you he didn’t want to hear what you had to say, but that’s all that consumed his brain. You were all that consumed his brain. And you were all that consumed him while he laid on the ground as you left him for dead to sneak under the mountain. He was the moth and you were the flame that constantly burned him everytime he was near you. But he couldn’t stop the concern that poured over him when it came to you. He hated to admit that to himself.

He had thought for a while that he did the same for Mor, but when he saw you for the first time since Rhys brought you back from the Spring Court—you had become a plague to his thoughts, something Mor never did to him. He had chalked it up to the fact he always carried a sense of protectiveness towards you, being the youngest of all of them.

Watching you try to be the obedient daughter, every little thing you did was monitored by your family. Especially after Mor sullied herself, they became merciless with you. When the high lord wasn’t around you suffered greatly at their hands if you did something that displeased them. Your mother was the worst of them when it came to punishments, sometimes he swore she was a reincarnated death-god.

You were right about one thing: she had it coming. He was surprised you didn’t do it sooner, feeling quite proud of you and couldn’t help but feel that pride rumble in his chest the moment you struck her down. He would’ve happily obliged to do the maiming for you if you hadn’t.

Walking through the cavernous halls, he rubbed the back of his arm subconsciously at a small mark not many noticed amongst his other tattoos.

A beam of light.

He saw the look in your eyes when you had mentioned you wanted to fight, how it hurt you. He couldn’t admit he was the reason to you yet, not if he wanted a round two of you two almost killing each other. He had realized how selfish he had been when he had made that bargain with Helion all those years ago.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

It had been nearly two years of radio silence from you, but he knew you were in the Day Court keeping yourself busy. Rhys had reassured him, his spies had let him know too. After Rhys came back without you from under the mountain, Azriel was ready to tear whatever and whoever apart to find you. You hadn’t wanted to be found though, and that thought alone killed him. He could’ve throttled a thousand more times by your power and it still would’ve hurt less than knowing you purposely didn’t contact him.

Now with war approaching again, he wasn’t sure if he’d see you again. He wanted and was going to do everything in his power to keep you safe; whether you wanted it or not. Even if it meant sparing a few white lies to his brothers and friends. All he told Mor before he left the House of Wind that morning was he was going to gather information from some of his spies.

His nerves got the best of him as he waited in the private dining area of the Day Court’s palace. He had reached out to Helion privately under the guise of wanting to discuss an urgent matter. It wasn’t so much a guise as he considered you an urgent matter.

“Spymaster,” Helion greeted, slipping into the room exuberantly. The gold bands wrapped around his biceps and that clipped his cobalt fabrics together glimmered in the warm Day light as he walked towards Azriel

He just nodded in greeting at the ethereal High Lord, his hands clasped behind his back respectively.

“Thank you for meeting me under these circumstances.” Was all he uttered trying to keep his mask of cold coolness. Helion held out his hand and he braced his scarred one in his in a firm shake.

“It was a surprise to receive your urgent correspondence, but not unwelcome.” He drawled, before gesturing to the small table by the veranda. “Take a seat, would you like a glass of wine?”

The spymaster only shook his head, causing Helion to shrug as they sat. His massive wings uncomfortably cramped in the small chair.

“More for me, war preparations have me so tense. I’m sure it’s weighing on your court as well?” He sighed, pouring himself a glass from the decanter that appeared at the table as they sat.

“We’re bearing,” tapping his fingers on the table, impatient. He was not in the mood for small talk.

Helion noted his behavior as he took a long sip before speaking again. “What are the urgent matters you’d like to discuss?”

“How is she?” Was all he asked, and Helion’s typical overly confident smile graced his features.

“Ah, urgent matters revolving around our beautiful light-shifter. I should've known.” Azriel fought the urge to bare his teeth when the lord said ‘our’. You were not his. He kept a lid on the icy rage boiling through his veins. “She fares well here, the Day Court sun suits her. Her glow puts Thesan’s to shame.”

He could only imagine, he thought rather sourly. Still feeling a bite of overprotectiveness deep down. The image of you letting the light kiss your skin when you two would walk around during the sunny days in Velaris filled his mind. How your smile seemed to glimmer even ten times brighter from your power. Or when the stars braced your skin when he’d offer to fly you to the townhouse after a long night at Rita’s and your feet had ached from dancing with Mor. A little star. He shoved the thoughts away, focusing on the matter at hand.

“What is her role in the upcoming battle?” His tone low, anticipating the response.

That feline-like smile on the High Lord’s face curled to a smirk, a glint in his eye. “I was planning to put her on the front line. I think it would be a therapeutic experience for her.”

“Is that wise?” Azriel tried to not sound worried or look wary. Therapeutic wouldn’t be the word he would’ve used himself, maybe traumatizing.

The inner circle had trained you well in physical training once you had come back to court all those centuries ago. You could easily keep up with an Illyrian warrior, and your magic was one of a kind. None of your family had your powers that had been still alive. Rhys and Amren couldn’t figure it out, even having you go to the Dawn Court to learn to control it. Thesan was only able to teach you so much since the light you were able to generate was still different from his. So you had spent hours on the roof of the House of Wind by yourself practicing. With an occasional visit from the inner circle to keep you company.

The male across from him only raised an eyebrow, “are you not confident in her abilities?”

For the first time in ages, the Spymaster had been at a loss for words. He knew you were capable, more than capable. You had proven it the day you struck him yards away and left him for dead. Just something in him couldn’t let you go out there or see you out there bloodied and battered. He certainly couldn’t imagine you close to death either.

Clearing his throat, Azriel spoke carefully. “She has never fought in a war.” He had hoped that was enough of a response.

“She’s been training.” Helion countered back, that glint still in his eye. “I saw what she could do under that mountain—all of us High Lords did. It’s a shame for Hybern that Tamlin’s brother locked her away during the first war.”

“Please,” Azriel couldn’t stop the plea coming out of his mouth.

That mischievous look then softened. As if he understood. “I don’t know what I would have her do, she would be furious to know she won’t be out there fighting.”

“Anything, I’d rather her be pissed than hurt or worse—” the Shadowsinger couldn’t finish the sentence.

Contemplative, Helion traced his finger around the rim of his glass. “Praytell, how far would you go to keep her safe?” That softened empathetic glaze in his eyes turned almost dangerous looking. “I know your court is quite fond of making bargains.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes, jaw tensed. “What is it you require from me, Helion?” He spoke through gritted teeth, an uneasy feeling rising in his stomach.

“I would still love a night with you, Cassian, and Mor.” The High Lord across from him said casually.

The uneasiness turned to queasiness, unsure of the intent behind the statement. He watched the male sit back in his chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “That would be quite unfair though.”

He asked after a moment of silence. “How about providing some intel for me? I have quite a laundry list of inquiries and no one has been able to track them down for me.”

“And she’ll stay off the battlefield?” Rubbing the back of his arm, scanning the warm skinned lord’s amber eyes for any evidence of deceit. Helion was an ally for some time with the Night Court, the Shadowsinger never put his full faith into the term ally. Nothing had been absolute to him.

“It will be difficult, but she won’t see Hybern.” The long dark haired male reassured him.

Azriel visibly relaxed from the words. The two had discussed the terms of the bargain and whom Azriel would be gathering information about. The list ranged from lovers that spited him to old debts that still needed to be settled, and no doubt would put Azriel into a frenzy after the war was over—if he made it. At least he didn’t have to think of the consequences of if you didn’t.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

[x] previous chapter

Ahhhhh even tho this was tough to write and maybe not my best, I’m proud I beat the writers block for this!! I appreciate any feedback lovelies! Thoughts, opinions, likes, and reblogs!! Feel free to reply or message if I missed you in the taglist or want to be added 🩷🩷

Taglist: @tcris2020 @rachelnicolee @mich0731 @brekkershadowsinger @thelov3lybookworm @t0uch-starved-h0e @penguins-are-the-best @bubybubsters @jiinmii @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @mcgintyandbeyond @callmelovergirl @marigold-morelli @marina468 @nightless @vellichor01 @brandywineeeee @fussel9913 @gretavanbobatea

[bunny-jpeg]

Oops sorry I just sent the CoD ask about you and cottontail’s faves and forgot the most important thing lmao…

Hang in there… long distance is so hard. Maybe you wanna invest in a body pillow. I saw some hot CoD ones, but tell me why they’re $50+…

Soon y’all will be together and live the cottagecore (or whatever aesthetic you love) of your dreams! 💗

thank you lovely anon for the messages! both were well welcomed and i'll answer them both in the same post!

yeah, long distance can be a kick in the teeth. it's only going to be harder when he's even further away come june. so it's a lot of holding on. he said that if need support or resources for dealing with any emotional turmoil during the eight months overseas then he'll happily talk to whoever he needs to talk to so i can get that help - as he always tells me, i'm never alone in this. it mostly stings when he's busy on the field and all of my friends are out for the night so there isn't much to distract myself with. last time, i think i made kraft dinner and watched an avengers movie with my mom. i'm not resentful towards cottontail, it's not forever and he'll be home soon enough. i know that he's already thinking up of the perfect date to take me on when he comes home for a visit next month.

(more rambles under the cut)

the way i look at it, it's forcing me to really work on my writing and try to build a body of publishable works. i have a lot of free time, haha. i want him to come back and i've made greater strides towards being traditionally published and having a bit more money in my pocket so hopefully we can start really looking at the future together.

he's been suggesting that maybe in a couple of years we'll move outside of our province and settle down in army housing. i said as long as i have access to my medications (for my mental health and transition) then i'd happily go anywhere! but thankfully we're both not people to make decisions without really thinking it through! so, right now it's just get through deployment, i finish school and i start work on trying to get published. - after that we can discuss things like moving in and marriage. it's just laying down the seeds so we can water them later!!

funny enough, i do technically have a body pillow. i have one of those big ikea bears! before his departure, he took me to ikea and asked me to pick out 2-3 plushies that he'd buy for me. i got really flustered at the idea and i didn't want him to spend too much money on me. in the end i picked the bear and the alien. both are on my bed. and when i do miss cottontail, i put the hoodie he gave to me (i stole it) on the bear (named hugo) and snuggle it to death.

it's not the same, but it lessens the lonely feeling. last year it felt like in a blink of an eye it was july, now it feels like i'm slugging through the year since he left for training!!! hugo has been doing his service well - also been the protector of my nightmares while cottontail is unable to be there next to me.

Am I right to assume your fave CoD hunk is Ghost? Is cottontail into CoD too? And is his fave Ghost too?

i used to be really into soap, i actually have the captain/09 soap figure that i got for 5$ at a yard sale last summer. he still sits on my shelf quite proudly. i thought that ghost was like the default choice that everyone loved so i guess i wanted to be a silly, goofy guy and different. - and then cottontail just gave off a lot of ghost vibes. big guy, dry sarcasm, fairly monotone kind of voice - but not boring. big, bulky blond from the military who is cold to most, but is warm to one specific person (for cottontail i'm that person). i didn't hate ghost, but i've come back around, haha.

cottontail likes his war games - he likes putting them on and playing them on a low volume when he gets up earlier than me, which is often. i've never asked if he liked call of duty in particular, i do remember he likes halo. only because i told him how old i was when halo 4 came out, and he went "yeah i was nine." and i felt myself age rapidly. we've also played minecraft together and he has watched me play pokemon (which is my personal favourite series) and forced him to pick a favourite pokemon.

i'm certain that if he had a favourite member of 141, it might be captain price because of his leadership skills and the missions in game where you play as him would be more up his alley.

[cumin233]

Hey my firends, I wanted to share the epilouge of Another Ending, which is TLOU art book I did earlier, I hope you will like it :)

Actually just cried while playing Future Days on my guitar hehehe, now I'm really looking forward to watch season 2 !!!

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Thanks to all of you who are able to read this, with your support I was able to get this book made. This little book from drawing to materialization, experienced six months. At the beginning, I just drawing for fun, did not expect the reverse good the network(especially you gals on Tumblr!) , gave me a lot of motivation, the output of the accumulation of more thought, why not make the entity? Can be used as a six-month summary, but also be able to mailed to fans who lived in China.

I don't know how others came across The Last of Us. I myself, is the summer of 2023 to listen to the “Film is Not Boring” radio recommendations, watched the HBO version of TLOU. HBO's big production + apocalyptic wasteland + streamlined lines + the two protagonists of the true feelings, immediately hit me, satisfied me as a person with tricky tastes in literature. summer of 2024 to watch the game play video of TLOU1&2, then purchased a ps5 game disk to play, their own operation + handle vibration is indeed more immersive, the operation of Joel when you naturally want to protect Ellie, playing Part2 Ellie with her to experience the road to revenge, playing Abby with her to complete the journey of redemption, not only to experience the smooth fighting and TPS shooting thrill, but also with the characters to experience the post-apocalyptic turmoil, sadness, joy and bittersweet.

I often watch interviews with the creators and actors, Neil Drukmann often talks to Craig Mazin on HBO radio about the script and the shooting process, and often appears on the Youtube channel to be interviewed along with Troy Baker and Ashley Johnson, Neil is calm and humble, he leads the team to make this great work; Troy is sincere and expressive. Troy is genuine and always has red eyes when he talks about Neil making him reshoot the scene where Sarah dies in him arms for so many times, or when Joel dies in the second movie (is it adorable that Troy will get emotional easily, I have to say). And Ashley has a sense of humor and adds so much to the character of Ellie. In one interview she mentioned that her father died when she was 16, and that filming TLOU Part2 was somehow a reconciliation with herself, she said  " I miss Him every single fucking day. " I can understand that because I didn't have a father either, and he passed away when I was 13 due to liver cancer, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't miss him.

The TLOU is precise and experiential in its portrayal of mental illness Joel, Ellie, Abby's avoidant attachment; Ellie's depression and PTSD, etc. There is a dearth of supplies in the post-apocalyptic world, not to mention medication and psychiatrists, but they are strong enough to get through it, and to be able to embark on their own journeys of healing after a traumatic event and so why wouldn't we continue to do the same? This game means a lot to me, thank you so much for reading this, and I hope that the fan art will bring some enjoyment to all of you.

December 9, 2024

[seventeenlovesthree]

Digimon Writing Challenge - Mix and Match: Koushirou + Agumon + Friendship

[Yamato] [Takeru] [Hikari] [Sora] [Taichi] [Koushirou] [Mimi] [Jyou]

Summary: After defeating Mugendramon, Taichi's group, finally reunited, gets to have some well-deserved rest - but Koushirou simply can't seem to fall asleep, overthinking his previous quarrels with Taichi and whether or not he had gone too far by calling him out. Koromon, however, leaves him a piece of mind in this regard...

Word count: 951

Koushirou Izumi had always thought of himself as a person capable of controlling his emotions – at least up until the moment he and his camp companions had been thrown into a completely different world.

At some point, he had just stopped keeping track of the number of emergencies, near-death experiences and conflicts. Especially now that the fate of both the Digital and Real World rested on their shoulders, depending on them to beat the Dark Masters, it was tough to clearly remember all their adventures.

However, today had been a new first for Koushirou. This was precisely why he hadn’t been able to fall asleep yet, deep at night at a safe space Andromon had found for them, surrounded by the remnants of greyish debris and with a heavy heart pounding in his chest.

Never before had he opposed Taichi in that manner. Sure, he had disagreed with him on various occasions, had tried to hold him back whenever he did something reckless.

But never before had they gotten into an argument like this. Not really a fight, only close to a punch that was meant to cover up their whereabouts and yet… After everything Koushirou had heard, after everything Taichi had confessed to him, about his past, why he had acted as irritating as before…

It reminded him of his parents, all the suffering they must have gone through. Not even considering his own suffering at this point, because Taichi’s turmoil was all he could think about right now.

“What were you thinking?!”

“It’s my fault, I need to take care of her.”

“If you understand, quit ordering me around!”

Koushirou had tried to soothe him. To help him to take better care of himself. He had raised his voice – and even if he was aware that he had been objectively right to tell him to take a break, he now felt like he had disrespected him. Angered him. And although Taichi had apologized for his behaviour afterwards… It hurt.

And now he couldn’t sleep, dealing with a stubborn sense of guilt in his chest. What if he had permanently damaged their bond? What if Taichi would treat him differently from now on? All he could do was watching Taichi’s back next to him, who, just like Sora, Piyomon, Takeru and Patamon, was fast asleep, cuddled closely to Hikari, Tailmon and…

“Nyaaaaaargh… Koushirou?”

He hadn’t noticed Koromon moving and now, after a biiiiig yawn, the pink blob was sitting right in front of him, ogling him with his big red eyes.

“You’re still awake too? I assumed you would be out for at least a few more hours after defeating Mugendramon”, Koushirou whispered in response, only now noticing the huge scratch on the Digimon’s forehead he obtained by slicing up Mugendramon into a million pieces.

“No worries”, the little monster shook its entire body. “Hikari’s light made me feel all warm and fuzzy, so I didn’t lose that much energy, hehe! Tentomon’s more exhausted though, huh?”

They both turned around towards Tentomon, who had curled up into a ball right next to his human partner, guarding his laptop while snoring quietly and peacefully – which actually made Koushirou smile for the first time in hours. At least he was getting the rest he deserved.

“Did you want something in particular?”, Koushirou finally asked while getting up into a sitting position – only for Koromon to jump right into his lap.

“Mhmh! I wanted to thank you for keeping an eye on Taichi! I wasn’t able to stop him earlier and… By now I know that he does everything he does to protect everyone around him, so… He needs to understand that he has friends to protect him too! That he is not alone!”

Hearing all that, Koushirou just glanced back to Taichi’s backside. It was almost like Koromon had summarized his own thoughts perfectly, even if it still left a small pounding behind.

“Friends to protect him too…”

“I was a bit startled when you two almost punched each other, but… I guess that’s what friends need to do sometimes?” The Digimon looked lost in thought for a moment and Koushirou was certain that Yamato had just come to his mind. Understandably so, as both Taichi and Yamato seemed to be more physical when it came to bringing their points across. “He seemed a lot calmer afterwards, so you did the right thing! He was really sorry too, he didn’t mean to hurt you, so please forgive him, okay?”

Caught off guard once again, Koushirou blinked. Was it really that easy? Did Taichi maybe feel like he could be more physical with him too because they were… Friends?

“I’ve… Forgiven him immediately, Koromon, please do not worry yourself. But… Are you sure?”

“Huh? About what?” Koromon mirrored the blinking. “You’re always taking care of each other and you always help Taichi like only a true friend does! Using your laptop, figuring out places and routes and mysteries when he doesn’t know what to do… I know you care about each other a lot, so… Please make sure Taichi always sees that he can rely on you, okay? He has me, he has everyone, but he needs to know it too.”

Maybe it really was that easy. Maybe he needed to stop overthinking. And maybe their friendship had become much stronger than he had given it credit for – even if it took Taichi’s monster soulmate to help him to realize it.

Despite the pain he had felt, he hadn’t picked the wrong path. And he would continue to stay by Taichi’s side, even if it meant calling him out, bringing him back on track. Like a true friend would.

“I promise I will.”

[wildflower-otome]

[Translation] even if TEMPEST Dawning Connections - Crius Castlerock After Story

Author: Ayane Ushio Source: even if TEMPEST From Dusk Till Dawn Official Visual Fanbook

Shackles of Love - Crius Castlerock After Story

‘I’m terrified of losing you. So terrified I even think it might be better to just lock you away somewhere.’

Beneath a sky shrouded in dark clouds, Anastasia’s words were quietly spoken. Wet hair clung to her face, and her rain drenched clothes only further emphasized the slenderness of her body. Despite that, the reason she did not appear fragile was because of the strong light dwelling in her eyes.

‘.....But I was mistaken. Just because the Witch is gone, doesn’t mean this world is at peace. To live is to fight. I remembered that we have the present precisely because we fought until the end. From here on I will continue to have the courage to fight for the sake of our future together.’

Anastasia had been a prisoner of the past. It was the moment she was finally able to escape from the darkness that was the “Fatal Rewind.”

The emotion that came into Crius’s heart at hearing what she told him was—

“Turmoil.”

.....Wait. Hey now. Just a moment there.

You “wanted to lock me away”? Me? That wholesome Anastasia did? From the look on her face, it seemed to have been something she had been worrying over for quite some time. I had somewhat sensed it.

Seeing as she had looked as if she were about to cry just watching me training with Hugo, I had guessed that she was probably concerned for my safety. It was the reason I had laid down my sword after all. Still, I hadn’t thought she would go so far as to think about locking me up.

Tell me about something like that earlier. We could have saved so much time. I am, of course, always prepared to fight for my country. I am, but I can also fulfill my duties as a knight while making your wish come true. Probably.

Nonetheless, it looked like she’d already resolved the issue. She had corrected herself, saying, “I was mistaken.” If only she had put her mistake into practice for a few days, a few weeks, maybe even a few years. To let such a delightful error end as nothing more than a fantasy, what a truly heartless woman.

—The only reason he was able to shake off his worldly desires and answer with pleasant composure, was likely as a result of all the hard work he had put into remaining a good boss over the many years.

* * *

The Church’s attempted rebellion having ended in failure, peace had once again returned to Historica. Although there had luckily been no negative effects on the town, the people of the Castle were busy dealing with the aftermath, and the conflict over the right to succeed the throne had come to a momentary pause. In a sense, the days went by even more peacefully than they had before the rebellion.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Crius and Anastasia set out for the outskirts of Historica. It.....was not exactly for a holiday. They were there to observe the long-distance flight training being conducted in preparation for the real thing the month after next. Despite it being some distance from the Castle where the King dwelled, it was a rather lively place in its own way.

‘I thought the town would be a bit quieter being on the outskirts, but there’s more going on in the plaza here than the one in the capital.’

‘This place is fairly close to the border, so trade is booming. There are also a lot of soldiers stationed here too.’

‘So what you’re saying is they’re only going to get busier.’

The Royal family had not made the Wallent assassins’ invasion public. However, it was not as if they had no plan in mind. Increasing border security was the most basic of basic tactics.

Thinking of what might happen in the days ahead made her feel gloomy, but seeing the bright smiles on people’s faces lifted her spirits. The children of this town in particular likely had more freedom than those living in the lower parts of the city around the Castle. They ran around, looking to be enjoying themselves. They were so absorbed in playing that one of them ended up bumping into Crius, but it was more of a heartwarming incident than anything.

‘The inspection is all over with. We should head back to the Wings.’

‘Yes, we should.....’

Despite being in the borderlands, it had only taken us a few hours to get here by cargo ship. It isn’t so far that we couldn’t return within the day, but since we’ve already come all the way, I want to at least stay the night.

So Crius thought to himself, however — —

‘I’ll be sure to submit a report by midday tomorrow.’

‘You needn’t be in such a rush.  It’s still two months away after all.’

‘Thank you. However, since I’m more or less finished with all my tasks apart from this one, I’ve got more than enough time.’

‘In that case—’

‘So if there’s anything else I can do to assist you, please let me know!’

‘Ah, right…..’

Ever since he had made her cry after closing in on her in his office, Crius had become more careful. He no longer wished to mistake the timing of when to shed his mask as her boss. As much as he wanted to flaunt his relationship with Anastasia, he still wanted to be the boss she most respected. He knew that he was being greedy, but even then, didn’t want to lose a single thing when it came to her.

I’ll just go home quietly today. I can create another pretext for us to go on at trip together some other time. With those thoughts in mind, just as Crius was about to give up, Anastasia grabbed his arms tightly.

‘Um.....’

‘Hm? What is it?’

For some reason her ruby red eyes were wavering. She stretched up, her face coming closer to Crius’s as she whispered.

‘Would we be able to go to a place the two of us can be alone as soon as possible.....?’

*  * *

No sooner had they entered their room at the inn, than Anastasia took off Crius’s coat. She then hurriedly headed for the washstand.

‘It probably happened earlier when that child bumped into you. They must have been playing around with mud, can't believe so much of it got on the Grand Commander’s clothes.....I’m glad I noticed before we got on the cargo ship.’

‘I knew it. At my age, I know not to waste time with pointless expectations, and yet it’s still been so painful, each and every time-’

‘.....? What are you talking about?’

Once she was done removing the stains, Anastasia placed the coat on a hanger.

‘It might take a while to dry. I’ll go buy something else you can wear as a substitute—’

 Crius wrapped his arms around Anastasia from behind. His lips drew near to her ear.

‘A substitute? I wonder if you’ll be able to find clothes in this town that suit me.’

‘I-I’ll go take a look.’

‘I don’t think you’ll find anything. We’ve no choice but to wait until they’re dry.’

‘But then we won’t be able to make it to our return ship-’

‘We can just stay the night.’

‘My report-’

‘I did tell you there was no rush on that.’

‘But, Grand Commander….’

‘Hey, Anastasia. This is half your responsibility. Taking off my coat like that with no explanation.’

In the past, he would have had to spell it all out for Anastasia so that she would understand exactly what responsibility he meant, but not anymore. She had been the one to activate his switch to her 'lover.'

‘I only did it because I thought we should clean the mud off as soon as possible. My apologies.’

‘Why would you apologise? I’m pleased, not angry.’

Crius removed the earring from Anastasia’s left ear.

‘It’s about time you remember. That when you please me, you need to take responsibility.’

The whisper brimming with gentleness had more compelling force than any order. Nonetheless, she by no means found it disagreeable.

Anastasia removed the earring from her other ear.

…..She knew that this was the “obedience that accompanied pleasure.”

*  * *

He continued to give it to her slow.

He wouldn’t go too far. Fear had the effect of bringing the mind back to clarity after all.

And in order to make her all his, he had to make sure she forgot herself for as long as possible.

Crius touched her gently, deeply, and unceasingly.

  *  * *

‘Are you sure you no longer want to lock me up?’

‘I don’t. …..Have I made you feel uneasy because of what I said?’

‘Not at all. I was just thinking I might have enjoyed that.’

‘Sheesh. You’re always making those kinds of jokes.’

…..It was no joke, Crius murmured to himself inside his heart. These eyes and ears exist only to feel you, these lips and hands exist only to bring you joy. How wonderful it would be if I could live my life only for you.

However, Anastasia had already moved past it. She had found her answer in the future. Therefore, he was unable to do anything to make her turn back.

‘I don’t want to lock you up, but-’

‘Crius, I do want to have you all to myself.’

‘…..Anastasia.’

‘Yes. I’ll take responsibility.’

Anastasia wrapped her arms around Crius’s neck and kissed him.

Putting her tongue in deep, she tangled them together and sucked them towards her.

…..A kiss just like the one he had once taught her.

[asheli1515]

The Ghosts We Carry || Rafe Cameron - Chapter 2

<<previous next>>

a/n: soft!rafe x fem!character (OC)

word count: ~1.5k

warnings/disclaimers: fluff, angst, familial loss, grief, brief mention of substances (alcohol, drugs, etc.), season 4 plotline (I'm grieving), out-of-character rafe after a while, emotional intimacy, smut is there if you squint, blood, violence, dangerous situations, dual pov

summary: after a reckless night of partying, Rafe Cameron finds himself alone at the beach walking home. During his trek, he bumps into a quiet, mysterious newcomer who seems to see beyond his tough exterior. Despite Rafe's reputation and his defensive attitude, the newcomer refuses to judge him. They strike up an unexpected connection, and soon, their late-night conversations become the highlight of Rafe's days. As their bond deepens, Rafe finds himself torn between his need to prove himself and his new feelings for someone who doesn't want anything from him but the truth. Will Rafe let down his walls and risk everything for love, or will his inner turmoil and need to make something of himself tear them apart?

series masterlist

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RAFE

I am so out of my element here, and I don’t know how to feel about it. I have never been so caught off guard by someone in my life…until her. The fact that she is leaning on my shoulder is enough to make me want to run for the hills and her crying adds even more to my sense of fight or flight. I have never been good with emotions as I don’t have much to work with on that front. Between my emotionally unavailable father and even more distant stepmother, I have never really had a good example of what normal emotions are. I have nothing to refer to in this situation and so I do the only logical thing and put my arms around her.

Everything about this moment is making my internal sirens sound as if to say “do not continue going down this path” but I can’t bother listening right now. I am still slightly feeling the effects of the alcohol I drank at the party earlier and so I blame my current situation on that. Any other explanation would cause my head to spin and the world around me is doing enough of that already. I realize that I am fully relaxed around her, enveloping her with my large frame as her sobs slowly become sniffles.  We stay like this for what feels like a long time before she speaks.

“I’m so sorry about that. I usually don’t sob all over someone I just met but I haven’t had a real conversation with someone in so long.” She says with a sad smile that tugs at my heart in ways I don’t even want to begin to acknowledge. I look at her for a moment while I form my response in my head. I rarely find myself at a loss for words but right now I can’t seem to find any. Mostly because I have no idea how I should feel in this moment. I am in uncharted territory because I don’t usually spend my time talking to girls because I am too busy showing them a good time. I’ve never been the guy that a girl vents to or even wants to talk to.

“It’s fine, it seems you would have done the same thing no matter who was sitting here.” My voice comes out lacking all of the emotion that is stirring under the surface. Growing up the way I have, you learn to get good at hiding how you really feel.

From a young age, my dad instilled in me that emotions make you vulnerable…weak. Boys didn’t cry and there was no room for tears in the Cameron household. Id grown accustomed to this fact before I even learned the alphabet. Feelings made me uncomfortable, and Vivienne was full of them.

She laughed lightly before responding with, “You definitely might be right, but we’ll never know, now, will we?” A small smile found its way onto her face once she finished speaking. I watched her as she wiped away the last of the tears that littered her face and saw the hurt still lingering under the surface. I unwrap my arms from around her to put back some necessary distance. I come to the conclusion that I need to leave before my head explodes. At this point, it was already morning, and I need any sleep I can get to deal with the hangover that I know I will have a few hours from now.

I get up to leave as I don’t trust myself to continue this conversation and not do something that I will end up regretting. As I am doing this she speaks and says something that shocked me more than anything else tonight.

“It was nice meeting you, Rafe Cameron. I hope to see you around” she says, and it seems like she means it. The thought of someone hoping to see me again is so foreign to me that I almost don’t believe her. She continues her sentence while I am still in thought.

“Thank you for talking to me,” her eyes find mine and they are filled with a sincerity that takes my breath away, “it means more to me than you could possibly know.” This has officially become too much for me in every aspect and I need to get out of here.

I acknowledge her statement with a nod and a brief wave before turning to continue walking down the beach. My head is swirling with the events of the evening. I don’t even think I can begin to explain what just happened, so I do what Camerons do best and ignore it.

I finally make it to my house and I have never been so relieved to be here in my life. I feel tired, dirty, and I know the hangover that awaits me is going to be a terrible one. I choose to remedy one of these things and head to my room to take a much-needed shower. I remove my clothes and turn on the water. The cascade of droplets rain down on my skin and the warmth makes me realize how chilly the beach really was. The dirt and stress of the day slowly wash down the drain. I turn the water off and step onto the mat outside the shower to dry myself before getting dressed.

I go into my room and grab a pair of blue pajama pants and a black t-shirt to wear to sleep. I get into bed and immediately feel the tension leave my body. I close my eyes in preparation of sleep and the last thing that goes across my mind before I lose consciousness is Vivienne’s gentle eyes that hold just as much pain behind them as mine do.

Before I know it, the sun is streaming in through my windows and illuminating my surroundings enough to bring me out of my sleep. Just as I predicted, the hangover is in full swing, and I can practically feel my heartbeat in my head. The pain is almost unbearable, and I deeply regret the decisions that I made last night that led up to this moment.

I pry my eyes open to reveal the sunlight that instantly assaults my retinas. Everything is a nuisance in my current state, but I know I need to get out of bed. Despite my body’s protests, I remove the covers and make my way downstairs to make some coffee. While it’s brewing, I try and remember the events of the evening prior, but everything is still hazy. However, the longer I think, the more sure I am of the conversation I had with Vivienne. The most confusing part of this whole ordeal isn’t the fact that I talked to her, but it is more so that I find myself wanting to know more.

After a night of partying, I never remember the names of any of the girls that kept me company. Vivienne is a different story for some reason, and I want to figure out why. Could it possibly be the fact that she is new or is it the fact that she knows nothing of who I am and the destruction I have left in my past? I don’t know the answer to that question, but I am curious to a fault and decide that I need to find out. She did say that she hoped to see me again, so I am choosing to believe she meant those words.

I have no idea how I am supposed to find her, but I owe it to myself to at least try. I don’t believe I deserve much in this life because I destroy everything that is given to me. Although maybe me wanting something won’t be the worst thing. I just want a chance to start over, to prove that I want to be different…better. I hate who I have become because it looks a lot like my father. I will always love him and strive to make him proud, but I want to be better than him. I must be because if I’m not, it proves that nothing will ever change.

I see a chance to prove that I am not this monster that I have been painted out to be. My previous actions don’t bode well for redemption, but I have done more difficult things than trying to change how people perceive me. I have one chance at this and that is Vivienne. She is the only person whose idea of me has not been tarnished and so I need to find her before someone else does.

The smell of coffee overwhelms my senses in that moment, alerting me that it is ready. I pour the hot liquid into a mug as I contemplate my next steps. I just hope it isn’t too late by the time I reach her.

______________________________________________________________

a/n: heyyyyy! So sorry that it took me so long to finally post the next chapter. I promise I didn't forget, but I had to lock in for my finals because college is not for the weak. However, I am finally done with them and am headed home for winter break so expect many more updates to be headed your way! This chapter is a little shorter as I just wanted to update yall with what I had so you have something while I write more. Hope you like it and I will update soon!!

-Ash <3

[dragon-susceptible]

TDP Rewatch S2 E8: The Book of Destiny

Callum got the recap voice! Nice.

I actually really appreciate how fucked up dark magic makes you. It's like smoking. It's bad for the environment, it's bad for you, it's difficult to do and you really can't do it without knowing full well how bad it is. It kind of really drives home how unnatural Dark Magic actually is.

They're just hours from the Xadian border, that's a good note. My heart hurts for little Ezran having to be the voice of reason here. This kid had to grow up way too fast.

Soren's so sweet. "Well that's just rude." when Claudia's pinching him. And then he's so encouraging to her when he's the one lying paralyzed on the ground! "Well it was super pretty! But I still can't move." He tries so hard. As a teenager watching this yes I still hated his guts for how he treated Callum earlier but watching this now, especially knowing where his character goes later, I love him so damn much.

Callum's dark magic dreams are really fucking neat as a story choice, especially knowing the stuff we learn way, way later about Aaravos. He digs through a pile of keys to find the Key of Aaravos, and the star sign is glowing, right around when Viren's first speaking to Aaravos back in Katolis. There's already this connection between them because of dark magic.

I do love how judgmental Rayla is about it though. Like I know people dislike that about her, but frankly, I think it's really solid for her character.

We all just really liked that guard Rayla spared so much they made him a significant character in season 2, and I love that for us.

"I never lie." season 2, and then in season 7, "You're very good at telling most of the truth." I love that so much. It is neat that Aaravos really doesn't seem to lie that much, not directly - he's a trickster fae telling half-truths and vaguenesses that lead you to the wrong conclusion, so you lie to yourself instead. Makes him so much more dangerous than Viren and his constant rolls for deception that eventually get seen through.

Elf body language note: Aaravos tilts his ears when he says his name, and pricks them forward a little when Viren puts the bug in the jar and walks away. He also has a bit of a rhotic R in his name in season 2, which kinda gets dropped by everyone else later on.

still losing my mind about the fucking bug being canonically their blood child. Viren just put his youngest child in a jar. He doesn't even know it. he's been baby trapped. this is why Aaravos is smirking at his back. he's gonna pull out the child abandonment charges if Viren doesn't come back.

Rayla pouting about Callum's illness is honestly cute to me, like I know she's having emotional turmoil and I feel bad but she just reminds me of an angry kitten. I do feel really bad for Ezran though, how fucking scary must this be for the kid? He's away from home on this dangerous quest, has no idea what happened back home, but his brother is really really sick and the other older kid he's with doesn't seem to care beyond being angry about it. What's he supposed to do?

"I'm not here to fight" Corvus says, having walked in swinging. I actually think he was 100% down for a rematch he just didn't want to scar little Ezran with it when he already knew Rayla isn't a threat to them.

Also, both of them being willing to let Corvus in makes perfect sense, because at the end of the day Rayla and Ezran are both still scared kids, and he's an adult. A young one, but maybe he'll know what to do for Callum being so sick.

Yeah I'm still wincing about poor Ezran finding out his dad is dead through Corvus calling him king. This poor kid.

Damn, Ezran has always had some steel in his little spine, hasn't he? "Fell?" He says coldly. "Fell? He didn't fall, Rayla, he didn't trip and land on the ground, he got killed!" It's just an excellent moment to call back to when he faces Viren down upon his return to Katolis years later, and goes "Are you asking for mercy?" "No." "Good. Because you don't deserve any."

Also something about how Rayla doesn't shed tears over her parents leaving her, she doesn't shed tears over losing her own father, Runaan, but she cries for Ezran when he's too angry to.

I love Corvus so much but also, this idiot. A ten year old says "If I'm the king, you have to let me go." and he really just stands back like welp, can't argue with that logic. Bro. Homeboy. Gonna give yourself anxiety.

Oooh, I forgot Rayla's "You're not my king." line there.

Yk Viren if you really wanted to hide in the castle you could maybe change out of your fancy-ass courtier robes once in a while. Dress like a servant for like 5 minutes, you know how invisible they are because I bet you never actually see them yourself.

I wonder if the books about Aaravos were always meant to go inky like that or if it was the touch of Dark Magic, that slight window that Viren's provided him through the blood transfer, that did it.

Viren looks so flabbergasted by being shushed in the library. He really isn't used to dealing with consequences for his actions, huh.

"Accept your destiny." cut to season 7, where he prepares to use dark magic to rid the world of a great evil.

All the sides of the cube turning to the red star sigil though - that side wasn't for dark magic, it was star magic.

I roast Soren a lot for being a dumbass, but he really does have a fair few moments of practical intelligence that he covers up to look like an idiot on purpose. He bluntly states the dragon problem was one that he caused. Sure he stopped it, but he started it too, so he still feels guilty for the people that got hurt. He also knows before being told that he's paralyzed, and he's starting to cope with that.

Fuck, I need a second. This one hurts. What's his VA's name again? Jesse Inocalla. Knocked it out of the park. That tremor in his voice starting up not when he talks about the mission Viren gave him, but when he says "I didn't want to do it, but I do want Dad to love me, and be proud of me." I would hate Viren for this alone, let me be very clear. No kid should have to be glad they're paralyzed in a bed because he's so afraid his father will stop loving him if he doesn't do something horrible. No young man this intelligent should believe he's stupid because his own father has put him down so many times.

Harrow's appearance in Callum's dream hits, sitting on his throne in his crown in chains telling this child "You are free!" as Callum's own mirror tells him he isn't. It also is still getting me in the heart that Callum and Harrow both have green eyes, despite having no blood relation.

Destiny Is A Book You Write Yourself.

"It's your dream, kid." Harrow shrugs, and then his whole throne just slides out of frame, that's hilarious.

I'm wheezing at Rayla and Corvus here. You can really tell that he's also like, Barely an adult, as he has this whole Anxiety Spiral and bickering match with the teenager. It's great. Me watching this at 18: yeah he's an adult. Me watching this at 25: awww look at the baby lmfao. I just checked he really is only 20, this BABY MAN. Not even old enough to DRINK in my country.

He's such a dramatic fuck too, and I love how Rayla undercuts it.

"I'm gonna be a poet, Claudia!" oh my gods, that actually hits so different since we learned about Callum's other dad? Does he know? Surely Sarai talked about him, even if Callum didn't, and Soren would have grown up around her for at least a little while, as she moved into the castle before Ezran was born. Plus she and Amaya are both implied to be Crownguard to begin with, and Soren's always admired that position. Did he ever meet Damien? Would he have known that Damien had the same breathing sickness as he had when he was little? Is that why poetry is the first thing he thinks of when he can no longer be a guard? I'm emotional about Soren with Callum's parents now.

"Dragon smash boy. Say the good words now. They light the hearts of other people."

Yk it doesn't follow haiku pattern but it does follow the haiku vibe of just portraying a specific moment or feeling with a few words. He a little confused but he got the spirit energy. (also, his only mistake is that his was 5-5-7 syllable pattern, not 5-7-5)

I also have opinions about how effortlessly supportive Soren is of Claudia when he's literally paralyzed on the ground and she's struggling to help him, and they both have plenty of reasons to be extremely distressed and reactive, compared to how it seems to take everything in her just to be slightly kind about his Revised Life Plans once he can no longer move.

Especially since she follows it up by screaming about how she can't leave him like this because apparently his poetry is just so bad she can't stand it, and then she goes and starts smashing medical supplies that this hospital NEEDS FOR OTHER PEOPLE. On a level my heart hurts because I know this was how she was raised, but the fundamental selfishness in her behavior just makes me so angry. Just because this stuff won't help her with her magic, which she's using to fix Soren because she can't stand him like this even if he's okay with it, she doesn't give a shit that there's other people it WILL help. And Soren seems to realize this too, he winces when Claudia starts smashing things. She reacts to anger the same way their father does, and it visibly bothers him.

She deserved that toss out the door.

I like how they play with perspectives in the dream world to add to the feel of it.

"It's your journey, you'll be the sail!" -Villads in Callum's dream. That ties in nicely with the Skywing philosophy of being the wing, even if one doesn't have them, that we learn a little later.

I love how this show chooses to portray tracking as following broken branches and footprints as if those are like, the go-to tells of how to follow something. They're not. Most forest creatures don't break a whole lot of branches unless they mean to for some reason or are in a hurry. What he should be looking for is slightly disturbed grass, leaves that seem folded in a direction opposite the wind, and established game trails that the kid might have followed. Now granted, Ezran was upset and likely stomping around and very well might have broken branches and left prints in his upset, but it'd usually be a lot more subtle than that. Oh yeah, "you're making this easy for me, young king", good, even Corvus notes it. That said, why tf would you assume the banther ate the kid because their trails happened to cross and you lost his footprints? There'd be a lot more signs of a struggle, or at LEAST a disruption in the prints that accounts for the banther stopping and moving around in place a bit.

Man the guards in Katolis really ain't shit at finding people are they?

Aaravos is such a bitchy gay. He's awful but it's a delightful character design.

I wheeze every time I watch Corvus tell Rayla about Ezran being "eaten by a banther". He actually tries to intimidate her, draws up to his full height and rushes her, but he's so anxious it's jerky and immediately clear he's going to stop, and she just can't even stop laughing long enough to take him seriously. It is Very Clear they're roughly equivalent life stages, despite five years' age difference.

This face will never not be funny. I love that you can clearly see him mouthe "what??"

Ah yeah this is the Claudia and Ezran bit.

I love how Rayla's anger slowly fades out, because she realizes how much Callum's been fucked up by what he did. Her anger and resentment isn't going to do anything worse to him than his own mind is already doing, so there's no point in being bitter. I like to think this is part of how Runaan taught his classes too. No point in further discipline if somebody fucks up badly enough that they get a lesson from life.

The dream realm stuff is just really neatly designed - he smashes the primal ball and what actually smashes is the boat. Villads tells him his conscience is messy and he falls into it.

Oh wow they really ended the episode there, I forgot that was so abrupt.

Rayla's concern is really sweet, and I think it says a lot about who she is once she gets to this point.

[hoziersong]

hey, you were saying that you don't think izzy should've died and that you didn't agree with his character arc for reflected upon reasons. is it okay to ask what those reasons are? you just always have interesting opinions about tv and i'd love to know about this one

oh hi! well i'm happy to share my thoughts since you asked so politely lol i just didn't share them earlier bc when there's discourse ppl act so vile sometimes

anyways. izzy hands huh. multi-faceted, complicated, very intense character. let me begin by saying the fact that david jenkins and con o'neill managed to do a total 180 on izzy in terms of how the audience reacted to him between s1 and s2 without fundamentally ruining his character is astounding!! i think the whole point of izzy has always been the fact that he's a man who tends to hold on too tight to the stuff that gives him a semblance of safety (even though that stuff is usually pretty traumatic lol) and across s2 we see him slowly loosening his grip on blackbeard. the fact that it was precisely blackbeard's brutal return that made izzy realize both him and ed were in too deep really just adds to how awesome the writing was this season.

and now, just to clarify: i didn't say i disagreed with his character arc, but with the way it was executed. as in, i think izzy's journey was perfectly well written and acted out by con (please give that man an award), and up until the finale it was actually very well executed!! it's the last plot device that i disagree with.

killing off izzy was a bold choice, and a very common way in which writers both show redemption and pull poignant reactions from the audience, which is ultimately what any show strives for!! for the audience to feel deeply about certain characters or stories. i think ppl have forgotten that and focused so much on wanting everything to be emotionally "clean" and lacking of controversy. guys!! the whole of fiction isn't supposed to cater to everyone!! that's why it's fiction!! it can be manipulated by creators and audience alike and each individual piece is supposed to be different. if you don't like emotional ups and downs in the media you consume that's understandable, but don't condemn the pieces of media that do have it. simply don't watch if you don't like it. i personally like these feelings, the ugly, and the dirty, and the unfair, and the painful, the human!!! it's part of the experience and they did it well this season.

even with that in mind though, i think death was only one of the many options through which they could've symbolized izzy finally letting go of blackbeard and the toxicity that name represented for all of them. i get how 'i wanna go' as a show of the deliberate decision izzy is making to escape from the emotional turmoil of ruthless piracy is trying to make his death seem like a way for him to rest, but. it's a pretty definitive rest and i think it wouldn't have been necessary, considering that one of the main things izzy learns this season is that you can spend years in a terrible environment but it's still never too late to pursue something softer for yourself and for the people you love. he says it, too: 'it's about belonging'.

as much as it is understandable to have wanted to take the way of the tragic and unexpected, for the sake of impact and to heighten the significance of what izzy has become this season, it would've been nice to see him stare at a long, happy future with the new family he's acquired aboard the revenge. ed let go of blackbeard without it meaning he had to renounce to the rest of his life for it, why couldn't izzy? it would've been wonderful to see all those years of life experience as a pirate reconcile with the reality that they're not dependent on isolating yourself from others. for izzy to have become captain, or even frenchie's first mate, would've been an excellent seal to his story, even leaving a future full of possibility to further explore how his character gets acquainted with his new way of looking at the world.

izzy put it that way: it is about letting go of ego for something larger. and his death can mean many things simultaneously, but it can also mean that without his ego he couldn't live. which. i do disagree with, so.

i don't know!!! i just think about it many different ways!! like in this post specifically i chose to see it under a different light than what i'm currently writing, and neither of those opinions cancel each other out; they can coexist!! that's the fun thing about fictional media interpretation!! it's also why we have devices like fanfiction and fanart and meta!! the fact that something played out in a specific way on screen doesn't mean it's set in stone as something good or bad, there are always shades of grey.