#like please give this woman some dialogue

[yolowritter]

In Offense to Emilie Agreste

Hello there everyone, and- ...okay, put down your pitchforks, I haven't even started yet! Before an angry mob gathers 'round my blog, allow me to explain what today's rant is about. Unlike Lila Rossi, whose existence makes me want to hurl bricks at my screen whenever she appears, Emilie Agreste is actually a pretty interesting character. However, there are things about her (both canon and implied) that have me giving this picture-perfect gal a very intense side-eye. So today I'll be talking about what I think of her character, why I think she could have been written better, why she absolutely isn't a good person, and how the narritive does her a diservice by reducing this poor lass to an insignificant plot device, just so her clinically insane husband can have a reason to bully teenagers in spandex!

Firstly, let's quickly establish what we know about Emilie. I'll explain why I believe anything that isn't directly stated later, now it's just the basics. She and her sister Amelie are coming from a well-off family in England, presumably with quite high standards and expectations. We know little about her early life and it frankly isn't important, but she does at some point take an interest in the creative arts. She firsts meets her husband-to-be Gabriel when she arrives in Paris to further her education, and it's easy to assume they become friends due to similar interests. Then, later down the line, they meet Nathalie Sancoeur, with whom they scour the world to find the Miraculous jewels. After they do find the Butterfly and Peacock in Tibet, they all return to Paris and she creates Adrien Agreste, her son, using Duusu's powers. About twelve years later, she falls ill and "into a deep sleep" because the Peacock Miraculous was broken. This kicks off Gabriel's descent into madness and his crusade as Hawkmoth, which slowly drove him to insanity for reasons seen in this post. But still, this vague timeline leaves us with a lot of questions as to who she was as a person, and how she lived her life.

Before I delve deeper into this, I would quickly want to clarify the sources for the above information. We know from Represenation that Emilie met Gabriel when she went to Paris for educational reasons. I honestly don't remember if her field of study is mentioned, but considering she later stars in Andre's film "Solitude" it isn't hard to derive that said studies could be related. The high expectations from Emilie's family come from the fact that Gabriel had to change his name at some point in life, possibly because Emilie's parents wouldn't accept her marrying some "lowborn". Additionally, we know Amelie's marriage to Colt was arranged, so there definately is a sense of "securing the family lineage" here that exists in what remains of aristocracy today. In Passion, Nathalie is implied to be a treasure hunter of some sort at the time she meets Gabriel and Emilie, though how long she's been at the profession isn't clear. Still, they do work together to find the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous. We see in Evolution that they are occupying the Agreste Manor with the Peacock in hand, so it's possible they purchased the house either right after their trip to Tibet or before. Other relevant information comes from the thumbnails of Emilie's videos and photos from the Passion episode.

As an aside, Astruc better give us that Tibet special, because I need more Agreste family Lore! These people made their drama the entirety of France's problem and while I respect that, I need to know more! Also, Thomas' quote of "a lot can happen when three people are in close proximity for a long time"? Pretty sure that's from Twitter btw, if you want to look it up. I see you, Thomas...I see you...

Anyway, onto exploring Emilie's themes as a character. From the very start of the show, we have a lot of clues that point to her being an angelic, kind and can-do-no-wrong type of character, at the very least in Gabriel's eyes. There is a whole other topic here about him being obsessed with the past and looking at it with rose-tinted glasses, but I digress. The portrait of Emilie in the atelier, her photo in Adrien's room, and Gabriel's fond remniscing all give us the idea that she was a wonderful, lovely person! In fact, we even get a bit of personallity added to her in the Simon Says episode, where Gabriel tells Chat Noir "you have some of her (Emilie's) flair for dramatics". So of course, she was goofy sometimes, which is a trait we see Amelie share at least a little of in the Felix episode, what with her Elsa-style entrance into the manor. For Season 1, we got plenty of information as to her character, even if we didn't know her name quite yet.

In Season 2 we get more of these examples of her being a wonderful person who is dearly missed, such as the whole plot with the above-mentioned Solitude movie, and Adrien wanting to go see it. Why exactly Parisian cinema is playing this movie in the first place considering what we know about Andre abandoning his career as a director is completely unknown and reeks of a plothole to me, but then again so do half the episodes in general. Point is, from very early on in this show we get a positive perspective on Emilie's character. Sure, there's a lot we don't know about her, but I'm sure her wedding day, her early years with Gabriel, their actual relationship, whatever she had going on with Nathalie, and the whole drama with her parents and later Amelie's husband isn't important...right?

Yeah no I'm not letting her off the hook. Aside from the obvious Adrien stuff that I'll get into in a bit, it seems suspicious to me that nobody can ever come up with anything negative to say about Emilie. And I don't mean a genuine character flaw, even if nobody is perfect, I mean just...something embarrassing? An old joke shared between friends from college, a little detail that sheds light at her sense of humor, even a fond recollection of something silly that happened in her youth. There's nothing. Aside from Gabriel saying she had a dramatic flair, which I will talk about, we know nothing about Emilie Agreste as a person. She barely feels alive, almost existing solely to be the "dead wife" archetype of the show. And okay sure, some of that is the fault of whoever was in the writing room when they try to bring her up. But come on, you're telling me Nathalie doesn't have a single memory or photo in that large stack of recollections that shows her being alive for once?

And of course I don't mean Emilie being literally alive, we see plenty of that. But think back to the photo with Gabriel, Audrey, Emilie and Andre for a second. As an example. I can't recal the exact details, but Emilie is standing to the side, closer to being out of frame than anyone else. In the middle of the shot, the other three seem to be having a good time, but she's only giving a polite, proper smile to her friends. Naturally, not every person out there is extremely expressive, but this is a safe space. Emilie is with close friends and everyone is enjoying themselves, yet her face looks like she came out of a portrait. When I noticed that little detail, I went running to find more. Aside from the videos that she left behind, we've never seen her speak or interact with any character excepting that Evolution scene where she first gets the Miraculous. So can we please think about this logically for a second? What kind of person is Emilie Agreste?

She was born in high society, with a lot of expectations on her shoulders and only her sister for company in her formative years, if Adrien and Chloe's sibling-like bond is anything to go by. And yes that's another post entirely, but they were childhood friends and he had almost nobody else his age to talk to, so I'm drawing a parallel. I won't speculate at all about Emilie's childhood, because frankly it's irrelevant to today's conversation. What I will say however, is that everyone we meet who has interacted with her has fond memories and good things to say about her. And every depiction of Emilie we get, even those not made by Gabriel, she seems to radiate perfection. And that right there is her character's theme. Being perfect. She presumably was the perfect daughter, the perfect (or at least a good enough) student to go to France in order to further her education, so on and so forth. But her family life very much isn't anything close to that. For one, her sister is stuck in an arranged marriage with an abusive a-hole who seems to have been spat directly out of a Texas steretype. There is no indication that Emilie knew about this, but...she also eventually let Colt borrow the Peacock Miraculous to make Felix. Clearly she entrusted Colt Fathom of all people with a magical artifact that can make sentient life, because sure, that seems perfectly reasonable!

Of course signs of abuse are hard to notice even when directly pointed out, but for the purposes of Emilie and Amelie, it seems fundementally against the good, pure and angelic character that Emilie has been presented as to even consider handing Duusu over to Colt. I'm ignoring the issue of Tomoe since that hasn't been explained, but there's clearly something wrong here. And now...now we come to Adrien's home life. We know that he has never been to public school before Origins, which happened only because Chloe enrolled him by the way, and Gabriel does allow him to go at the end of the day. We didn't know at the time, but it does seem reasonable for Gabriel to refuse him completely here, seeing that in hindsight, Adrien's class specifically becomes a hotspot for Akumatizations. But despite this danger, Gabriel still allows Adrien to remain in public school. Additionally, it's completely reasonable to assume that a pre-teen and later teenager would want more freedom to explore the world, and I find it incredibly unlikely that Adrien only expressed this after Emilie keeled over. Surely, this child would have wanted to make friends before then, especially if Chloe would brag about how many friends she has in school, which seems like a thing she would absolutely do to impress him. Sure, that last bit is speculation, but Chloe does act like this all the time in Season 1, so it's natural to consider that she did so before too! The thought of Gabriel being the permissive parent here, and therefore not the one keeping Adrien inside all the time...it really frightens me.

And just to be clear, this isn't a tinfoil-hat "Emilie is secretly evil" theory or anything like that. I'm just saying that she isn't perfect, never has been, and actually made a lot of mistakes during her life. Especially with Adrien. Because doesn't it seem like a loving mother's attitude to want to spend time with her precious son, showing affection and being with him at all times? As a reminder, unless the concept of adoption was never invented in this universe, Emilie Agreste could have just grabbed a child out of an orphanage at any point during her lifetime. But instead, she specifically wanted this one, Adrien. And what does she do to get her precious, perfect baby boy? Why, she scours the entire planet with her huband (possibly to-be) and her definately-not-side-chick Nathalie the treasure hunter to find a magic brooch that gives her the power to make him herself, exactly how she wants! Plot aside for a minute, doesn't that sound a little bit insane to you? The desire to have a child alone wouldn't drive anyone to go to such lengths, and this is assuming she is infertile or has some other problem that a good night under the stars with her pals Gabriel and Nathalie won't fix!

Clearly, Emilie had something very specific in mind when going through all the magical, mystical and half-maddening hoops that she had to go through in order to make Adrien in the first place! She practically dragged her husband and their friend on a worldwide trip just to find some tiny bird goddess stuck in a brooch! Are you reading this correctly? And then after Adrien popped into existence (presumably by being carried to term, etc.) Emilie made sure to shower him with love and adoration. But she also kept him isolated, and secure. This isn't as much speculation as it is just reading between the lines, but Adrien seems constantly awestruck throughout the show when presented with new experiences. Not to mention another disturbing thing, she was put inside the life support pod with Adrien Amok on her finger! That's a huge red flag, right in front of us, but it's been ignored because Gabriel is the one who uses it on-screen. Consider that by the time he does use the Ring, Gabriel is well on his way to utter insanity, considering that Shadowmoth is already unhinged enough to quickly evolve into Monarch once the conditions are right. Gabriel has absolutely no chill when it comes to terrorizing innocent people, or using Adrien's Amok to control him when need be. So why is there an implication of Emilie doing the same when she should have been perfectly sane and not driven to desperation because of a loved one's loss like her husband? Again, go check out this post for a full Gabriel analysis.

I'm not saying that Emilie was evil or crazy or a psychopath or anything of the sort. I'm telling you all that she had control issues. Among all the other stuff we know, and with said information pool being tiny to start with, Emilie Agreste seems so intersting! There should have been a whole plot point about removing the rose-tinted glasses that her death cast down on Gabriel, Adrien and Nathalie! There should have been flashbacks to when she was alive! We should have seen her interact and show love towards Adrien! To her credit, Emilie did see that her death was going to mess with Gabriel's head tremendously, and left him a little video politely asking that he doesn't become an internation terrorist. You know, just as a failsafe. It sure is a shame that she never had that conversation with her husband when she was still awake, or that to our knowledge, never said goodbye to Adrien. The public narrative is that she "disapeared". Are you joking me? Of course Gabriel covered everything up, but this is never adressed!

The writers have a ironically perfect character in their hands! Emilie is a mystery to the audience, she has a complicated relationship with both the show's main villains (Lila doesn't count if she's in barely a dozen episodes), one of the titular characters, and is also literally the reason why the show's events kick off in the first place! But we are shown nothing of her for over one hundred episodes of Miraculous! Even Ephemeral, one of the episodes I hate the most in the whole show, could have given us a glimpse into whatever Gabriel's restructured world would have looked like! It was the perfect oppurtunity for us to see Emilie up on her feet and actually having a role to play, instead of just discount Mrs Freeze! Yes I know her name is Nora, I know it's not the same situation, shush, I'm making a "Emilie is in the basement fridge" joke. The writers and Thomas did this woman so dirty it's not even funny! And I am offended at her, because at the end Emilie serves no purpose than to have Gabriel be "sympathetic" in Season 2! There are a dozen plot threads just dangling around for them to rip out of the ceiling and play with, but Emilie's very existence amounts to absolutely nothing! A gravestone would have served as a better character, because at least there could be something useful writen on it! Some kind of descriptor that gave us any insight into her personality!

But no, she's a blank slate! She's just some gal that showed up, found a magic peafowl and keeled over, ultimately leading to Adrien's sheltered home life, social awkwardness, and mommy issues! Because you cannot tell me that Emilie's parenting, no matter how well-meaning, didn't screw Adrien's early life up! She could have been the best mum in the world and it still wouldn't have mattered, because she considered him her perfect creation! Can you see the irony here? Can you observe the myriad of metaphors and the hundreds of ways this can get included in a story? Does Thomas Astruc and his team want me to have a mental breakdown??? Like, excuse me, honestly excuse me, but the sheer amount of offense I take both on Emilie's behalf and to her utter uselessness in this franchise is astronomical! I love this character! I really do! Wrote a whole alternate backstory for her where she and Nathalie are college roomates and everything! Heck, I love her so much that I did make her into a crazy psychopath in one of my AUs just so she can play a key part in that story as the Hawkmoth-equivilant! My love and adoration for Emilie Agreste reaches the god damned moon and back, but unless she actually has more than ten seconds of dialogue in some kind of flashback or prequel, I will continue to be offended! I'll continue to be pissed! And I'll continue to pray for the day where she becomes more than a practically irrelevant plot device!

Anyway, I need to cool off. I need to have a drink. I need to relax and take a break before making the post in defense of poor Chloe, because she too got shafted by the narritive, just like Adrien's mum. Expect it sometime soon, or at the very least when I'm not going insane over the fact that despite directly causing every major event in this franchise to occur, Emilie Agreste is a bigger question mark than the dude in a banana costume. Seriously, what the heck is up with Mr Banana anyway? I'll be seeing you all soon, but until then, Stay Miraculous everyone!

[aleksatia]

🍎 Blind date with your ex-husband. You never expected it to be… Caleb.

Inspiration hit me going 100mph down the highway, and I took an unscheduled gas station stop just to write this down. My husband almost divorced me again thinking I’d lost my mind — so in a way, this series is dedicated to him. And to second chances. I know they exist. I’ve lived one. 🥀

An unplanned new series. Five ex-husbands. Same setup, different reactions.

❄️ Zayne | 🎨 Rafayel | ✨Xavier | 🏍 Sylus

Cut Scene (NSFW): 🍎 Caleb – The Tea, the Rice, and Everything Between

CW/TW: emotional trauma, post-divorce grief, unresolved intimacy, mutual guilt and blame, AI-simulated memory confrontation, violent emotional release, destructive conflict, references to emotional manipulation and psychological burnout, gameified use of weapons, simulated car crash, coarse language, heavy emotional dialogue, themes of self-sabotage, intimacy tangled with pain, and lingering affection that hurts to hold. Please read with care.

Pairing: Caleb x ex-wife!you Genre: Emotional combat dressed as therapy. Post-divorce catharsis through orchestrated destruction. Rage as ritual, memory as minefield. Estranged soulmates, bruised devotion, unsaid things turned weapon. Slow-burn devastation with soft hands and steel teeth. Summary: You didn’t sign up for closure. You signed up to break things. But when your blind date turns out to be Caleb — your ex-husband, your gravity, your sharpest regret — the rooms stop being symbolic. Each one strips you down, forces you closer, until rage gives way to honesty, control to collapse. And underneath it all, he’s still the man who would never let you fall… but might be the reason you broke in the first place. Word Count: 7.1K AN: For some reason, the one I write last always ends up being twice as long as the one I write first — which is why I constantly rotate the order. Out of five men, five parts, this one came last… and, predictably, got out of hand. I'll be honest — this turned out painful. At least for me. And cruel, in places. But it felt honest. Maybe a little OOC at times, but let’s be real — divorce changes people. And now I need to recover from this one. Probably for longer than I want to admit.

Almost a year after the divorce, something inside you had been fermenting. 

Not relief, not the lightness of a woman unshackled, but something bitter and unholy. The kind of pain that doesn’t dissolve, but calcifies. It grew claws. Grew teeth. Turned your bloodstream into gasoline. You tried everything: the silence of mountains, the thrill of anonymous sex, the rhythm of violence in a boxing ring. None of it was enough. The hunts were no longer satisfying. The catharsis, too fleeting. You needed something that could bleed when you hit it.

So when the ad appeared — BLIND DATE: DESTRUCTION EDITION. To escape, you must destroy — you signed up without thinking twice. Rage has never been your enemy. Indecision is.

You dressed for war. Tight leather pants that clung like a second skin. Laced boots with soles heavy enough to leave imprints. A button-down shirt under a corset not meant to seduce, but to shield. Your hair pulled into a high, severe ponytail. Drama layered like armor.

This wasn’t a date. It was a reckoning.

You arrived five minutes early. You always do. The place was a former warehouse, rebranded into a rage room with curated destruction experiences — urban apocalypse meets sad girl therapy. The hostess gave you a waiver and a smirk. “He’s already here,” she said. “In Room B.” 

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t want to know. You wanted to feel your heartbeat in your teeth.

You walked in, pulling on the thick gloves, then sliding the protective goggles into place. The world dimmed slightly through the tinted lenses, sharpening at the edges. Everything suddenly looked a little more dangerous. A little more true.

The door hissed shut behind you, and the lock clicked with a finality that was almost erotic. One way in. No way out but through — through brick, through rage, through whatever poor bastard was foolish enough to stand in your way.

Your hand found the sledgehammer without looking, fingers curling around its weight like it was made for you. Heavy. Grounding. Righteous. You gave it a test swing, then another, calibrating impact, imagining bone. You didn’t even glance at him. 

Whoever he was, he’d get the same treatment as the wall.

Until he spoke.

“Well,” the voice cut through the air like a cracked knuckle, dry and dark, “you still choose the biggest weapon in the room. Some things never change, pip-squeak.”

You turned. Fast. The hammer arced through the space between you, too close. He ducked. The wall behind him caught the edge, chipped hard enough to spray red dust into the air.

“Say that again,” you warned, low and flat, “and I swear I’ll aim for the nose next time.”

He straightened slowly, expression unreadable except for the barely-contained fire in his eyes. 

“Touchy,” he muttered. “All righty. Retiring that one. Let’s see... viperette? Still small. Still mean. But I respect the venom upgrade.”

Caleb.

Of course it was Caleb.

The universe had a sense of humor. A cruel one.

He looked like war in a t-shirt. Leaner, somehow, like rage had eaten away the softness around his edges. His jaw was tight, eyes dark and alert, like he’d been living off caffeine and unfinished sentences. He held a crowbar like it was an extension of his spine — ready to break, to pry, to rip something apart.

You didn’t say his name. You didn’t give the moment that kind of power.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyeing the setup. “A brick wall. Real subtle. What, are we supposed to talk about our feelings while we chip away at the trauma?”

You didn’t dignify that with a reply—at least not right away. Then, dryly: “I think we’re supposed to break shit. Bonus points if we don’t murder each other.”

He barked a short, mirthless laugh. “Blind date with a bat and unresolved issues. Sounds like your kind of night.”

“You’re projecting. I didn’t come here to reminisce, Caleb. I came here to destroy.”

“Great. Start with the wall.”

You planted your feet, drew back, and slammed the hammer into the bricks. The jolt surged through you like an exorcism. Caleb followed suit, striking beside your dent with a calculated precision that annoyed you more than it should’ve.

You worked without speaking. The cracks formed slowly, reluctantly, like even the damn wall didn’t believe you two could work together. You hated how easily your rhythms aligned. Always had. Even when you fought, you were fluent in each other’s movement.

He paused, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “So. Tell me, did you know it was gonna be me?”

“If I had, I’d have brought a bigger hammer.”

“And here I thought you might’ve missed me.”

You turned your head, just enough to let him see your smile — sharp, unapologetic. “I did. Like you miss a bullet you didn’t dodge.”

That shut him up.

For now.

The wall finally began to give.

Cracks widened, deepened, split like veins across the surface. Your breath came hard, sharp in your throat. You were sweating, but the hammer felt lighter now, almost like it wanted more.

Another hit. Another. Then —

Caleb dropped his crowbar with a clatter, stepped in close, too close. You tightened your grip, not sure if he was about to yell, shove, or kiss you.

He didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he reached out and gripped your upper arm — not rough, but firm, like a man redirecting fate — and pulled you a half step back. The wall loomed beside you like a dying animal. You opened your mouth to protest, but stopped when you saw his face.

He was looking at you like he was memorizing the end of the world. That same gaze he used to have when he thought you were asleep and he was letting himself be weak for ten seconds. It cut deeper now.

You didn’t blink. Neither did he.

Then, without a word, he turned, drew back, and drove the full weight of his body into one final strike.

The hammer met the weak spot with a sound that rang like a gunshot. Dust exploded into the air. He kicked the base of the wall hard — his boot landing with perfect force, perfect timing — and the whole thing collapsed in the opposite direction, away from you, bricks falling like dominos, like judgment, like the years between you had meant nothing and everything at once.

Silence.

Then you exhaled.

And said, flatly, “You always did know how to make a point. Real subtle, Colonel.”

His jaw twitched. That was all. No quip this time, no grin. Just the tight strain in his neck and a flicker behind his eyes like something was about to unhinge. But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. That was the whole game with you two — feeling everything and showing nothing until the room caught fire.

You stepped through the rubble.

The next chamber was colder. Darker. The hum of old OLED screens filled the air like flies buzzing near a carcass. Dozens of them, mounted along the curved walls in perfect symmetry. Some flickering, some bright, all showing the same kind of sickening reel. Success. Smiles. Promotions. Affection posed for the camera, curated happiness. Couples at sunset, at brunch, in bed. Running on a beach, golden and effortless.

Then the altar.

A bride. A groom. A goddamn soft-focus lens.

You stopped cold.

The hammer slipped from your hand. You bent slowly, picked up a chunk of broken brick from the ruins behind you — rough, warm, red with the breath of your anger — and flung it.

The screen shattered on impact. A flicker. Sparks. A frozen image of a kiss, fractured into spider veins of glass.

Caleb didn’t move. Not really. Just stood there, staring at the wall of curated lies. His eyes darted from screen to screen, like he was trying to catch something in the movement. Like he was afraid he’d see something too real.

You hurled another brick.

The screen cracked with a dull, satisfying sound, collapsing inward like it had flinched.

“Would’ve been more poetic if they used our photos,” he said, dryly, like his throat was sand.

You scoffed. “Should’ve offered the organizers access to our digital album, I guess. Too bad I wiped every trace of you from the cloud last October.”

That got him.

His lip curled upward — half a smirk, half a snarl. “Of course you did. Practical. Cold. Classic you.”

You turned slowly, blood surging behind your ears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t step back. Caleb never did. “I didn’t delete anything,” he said, voice low. “Renamed the album. Filed it under ‘Bitch I Used to Love’ Thought it was honest.”

You could’ve scratched the skin off his face with how fast your hands moved if not for the gloves and the goggles between you. You were on him in a second, eyes locked, breath ragged, but neither of you made contact. Not yet. The air between you hissed with the threat of combustion.

“You’re such a fu—”

The voice cut in. Not his. Not yours.

From the screen behind you, a woman's face smiled, unbearably bright, like a toothpaste ad with delusions of sincerity. “You can always count on me,” she said.

Your breath stopped.

That phrase. His phrase.

Before you could move, Caleb did.

He crossed the room in two strides and brought the bat down like wrath. The screen split open with a flash of white light and a guttural sound that wasn’t quite human. A scream, maybe. Or something deeper.

He didn’t say anything after that. And neither did you.

Not in words.

But your body answered. Loudly.

You tore through the room like it had insulted you personally. Which, in a way, it had. Those grinning avatars of happiness, the sterile intimacy of picture-perfect couples — people who hadn’t known the feeling of being swallowed alive by someone they trusted. Smug joy laminated in pixels. They deserved everything you gave them.

You brought the bat down on one screen, then another. Glass shattered in bursts. Sparks flew like ash from a controlled burn. Across the room, Caleb mirrored you, attacking from the opposite side — controlled, brutal, rhythmic. Again, you were in sync. Not lovers. Not enemies. Just two wild animals with matching scars, dismantling a cathedral of lies.

And then you met in the middle.

The largest screen loomed between you, mounted above a faux-marble pedestal like some grotesque altar. You swung. Hard. The bat ricocheted off the screen like it had hit bone. 

It didn’t crack. It laughed. A sharp recoil shot up your arm.

You let out a guttural sound — somewhere between a curse and a grow l— and dropped the bat.

Then picked up a brick.

It was still warm from the earlier wall, one edge sharp enough to draw blood if it wanted to. You didn’t give it the chance. You took it to the screen, again and again, raw and breathless, something primal and unrepentant bleeding out through your hands. Each strike carved into the polished surface like you were trying to murder memory itself.

Caleb didn’t stop you. He just stood to the side, watching the destruction like it was sacred.

When the screen finally gave in, it did so all at once. Glass caved with a scream of surrender, wires snapped, the frame buckled and collapsed in on itself. Behind it: a door. Dark, narrow, humming softly.

You stood still, shoulders heaving. Your fingers clenched tighter around the brick, so tight the rough edges pressed through the gloves and left grooves in your skin beneath. You swallowed hard, once, choking back something feral and ho t— not quite tears, but close enough to shame you.

Then, without looking, you turned and hurled the brick in the opposite direction. Just to hear it hit. Just to remind yourself you still could.

Caleb took a step toward you. Careful. Something in his face had changed — softened, almost. His mouth twitched like he was about to ask the one question no one in their right mind should ask.

Are you okay?

No. You were not okay. You were on fire inside a collapsing structure and the only thing holding you together was inertia.

“Touch me,” you warned, voice like cut wire, “and I swear I’ll hit harder than I did that screen.”

And with that, you walked forward. Toward whatever hell came next.

The room ahead was cleaner. Cold lighting. Metallic walls with thin veins of circuitry pulsing like capillaries beneath glass. At the center stood a sleek black pedestal, and on it: two shotguns. Game-style, not military, but still heavy, still real enough in your hands to feel the familiar pull of power in the barrel. Your palms flexed on instinct.

You grabbed one without hesitation. Caleb followed suit.

Above, a voice crackled — genderless, modulated. Artificial.

“Welcome to Trigger Point. Please attach neural sensors to your temples. Each player must input ten phrases associated with emotional distress. The AI will cross-reference the data, generate projected constructs, and render them in combat form. Destroy on sight. Objective: release. Completion time: variable.”

You stared at the interactive screen blinking in front of you. A small keyboard. Ten empty fields. The implication clear: name your demons. Feed them in. And then shoot them down.

Caleb started typing immediately. No hesitation. His fingers flew. He was always better at anger. At naming what hurt. You wondered if he’d been waiting for a moment like this.

You stared at your own screen, unmoving. The cursor blinked at you. Accusatory. You hated this part. Not the shooting. The naming.

Because naming made it real.

But you typed.

Reluctantly, clumsily, then faster.

Because you knew exactly which phrases had lived rent-free in your spine for too long.

Done.

You caught him glancing sideways. His screen dimmed just as yours did, locking your inputs.

You didn’t want to know what he’d written. But the room did.

A low mechanical hum vibrated through the air, and the wall across from you came alive. Light surged and split into fragmented holograms — each word sharp as a knife, floating midair, stuttering into full clarity. One at a time.

“Cognitive synchronization complete. Each phrase will be visualized using memory-sourced projection. Targets derived from active recall. Accuracy required. Proceed.”

You felt the data pull like a hook behind your eyes — memory sucked forward, scanned, sorted, shaped.

The first phrase came like a punch to the teeth. 

You were the safest place I knew. Until you put a ring on me and turned the lights off.

It hovered for a second, just long enough to register, and then dissolved. The smoke twisted and thickened. From it emerged a figure that stole your breath.

It was you.

Not the way you feel in mirrors, not the version eroded by grief or fury. This one was too poised, too precise. Her face was colder than you remembered yours ever being. Her beauty surgical. Her anger had been refined into stillness, and in that stillness — something worse than screaming.

She looked at Caleb like he’d failed a test she never let him study for.

You hesitated.

Your fingers twitched around the shotgun’s grip. You lifted it slightly, almost reflexively — but something inside you screamed don’t. You didn’t remember saying it like that. Not with that finality. Maybe in anger, maybe meaning something else entirely. But this version of you didn’t look like she regretted a thing.

She raised her own weapon.

You flinched.

But Caleb fired first.

The shot was sharp, efficient. Her body shattered into a scatter of static and fractured light.

You turned to him, stunned. His fingers were still trembling on the trigger. Yours were, too.

Not just by the sound of the shot, or the way your projected self shattered — but by the fact that he had pulled the trigger.

On you.

Even if it wasn’t you-you. Even if it was just light and memory, coded and cruel. He had done it. Without hesitation.

It felt final somehow. Like something sacred had cracked open and spilled out. Like you’d crossed a threshold you didn’t know existed.

Because you used to believe — no, know — that even at your ugliest, your worst, your most furious, he would never hurt you. Not like that. You had believed, with a terrifying kind of faith, that he’d sooner put a bullet through his own head than raise a weapon to yours.

And maybe that was still true. But maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe too much had decayed between you. Maybe the divorce had rewritten you both in ways neither of you were ready to see.

You didn’t want to ask. You didn’t want to know the answer.

Neither of you spoke. You could see in his face that the phrase had lived in him longer than you’d ever meant it to. Long enough to calcify. Long enough to echo. Long enough to ruin.

You froze, body coiled in silent expectation.

You knew what was coming. You could feel it before the text even appeared, like a static current pulling through your chest. The phrase you typed. The one you swore you wouldn’t look at when it came.

But it came anyway.

The words unfolded in slow motion, thick with memory, with everything unsaid between you. A sentence shaped like him.

I was too blinded by loving you. You only let me touch you when you wanted something. You pull my heart like a puppet on strings.

It didn’t feel like watching something. It felt like being flayed.

Your breath caught.

You fired — too soon. You missed. Glass behind the projection cracked, but the thing itself remained.

You hadn’t wanted to see it. You hadn’t wanted to hear it again. You regretted typing it. You regretted remembering it. You regretted ever giving those words a place to live inside you.

You could feel Caleb tense beside you. Not from the content — he already knew the line — but from the timing. From your reaction. From how fast you'd tried to erase it.

You gritted your teeth. Lifted the gun again. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple, cool and traitorous.

You aimed. And fired.

The figure burst apart — no scream, no sound — just a silent, violent fireworks display of red-gold pixels. Gone.

You stood there, breathing hard, hand tight on the grip, pulse roaring in your throat.

And only then did you understand.

Why he’d shot your projection first. Why it hadn’t felt like betrayal, not really.

Because these versions of you — of him — these pale ghosts, weaponized by memory and algorithm, weren’t real anymore. They were remnants. Monsters made of moments that no longer had the right to exist. Not even here, in a world built of nothing but ones and zeroes.

You hadn’t destroyed him. You’d destroyed the version of him that hurt you.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what he’d done too.

More phrases came. Some his. Some yours.

Why do you always disappear?

Shot. Flash. A twist in the gut. You don’t stop moving.

I felt safer when you weren’t there.

Shot. Flash. His shoulders jerk. You catch it, pretend you didn’t.

You made me into someone I hated.

Shot. Flash. You almost drop the gun. Almost.

You wanted control more than connection.

Shot. Flash. You taste metal in your mouth. Don’t know if it’s from the memory or your own tongue.

It all becomes a blur — fragments of truth, shredded light, the weight of your weapon like a heartbeat in your hand.

Then —

One more.

It doesn’t come fast. It lands.

Like a final breath drawn sharp before the plunge.

His.

I loved you so much it destroyed me.

No shape yet. Just the words, hanging. Clean. Unfiltered. Unhidden.

Like he never got the chance to say them out loud. Like some part of him still hadn’t stopped saying them, even now.

Everything in the room goes still. Even the flicker of light quiets. And you feel it — that if you move now, everything will break.

You don’t know when the tears started. They weren’t dramatic. They didn’t sting. They just existed — like breath, like gravity. Sliding down your cheeks with the same quiet inevitability as everything else that’s ever gone wrong.

You were back there. In that moment. Before the signature. Before the sound of the pen on paper. When he looked at you across the room, and said it  — not to win you back, not to argue, not to accuse. Just to say it.

Because it was true.

And now here he was again — only not really. A pixelated Caleb. A slowed, AI-crafted echo of that same version. Stepping forward from the projection field like it remembered how he moved.

The voice that left his mouth was mechanical, but still it hit like flesh: “I loved you so much it destroyed me.”

Exactly the way he had said it then. The rhythm, the weight. The slight lift at the end that had felt like a question, a prayer, a hope too stupid to say out loud.

This ghost carried it too. You didn’t raise your gun. You couldn’t.

You couldn’t shoot that. Not the hope. Not the part that believed.

And so —

Caleb did.

No hesitation.

A clean, brutal shot that tore the projection apart mid-step. The ghost shattered like it had never mattered. Never happened. Never existed.

And then there was silence. When you turned to him, his face gave you nothing.

A mask. Still. Cold. The kind of stillness that doesn’t come from control, but from emptiness. Like your love hadn’t just hurt him.

It had hollowed him.

And maybe he was right. Maybe there really was nothing left.

“Nothing left to break,” he said quietly. “Nothing left to ruin.”

You looked at him. Eyes wide. Wet. Fragile in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Do you think I wanted this?” you asked, voice raw, like something torn.

He stared at the air where the projection had been, then turned his head slightly — just enough to catch your gaze. But his face didn’t change. He was somewhere else.

“No one wanted this,” he said. “And now we’re literally shooting pieces of ourselves. Burning through our own memories. Like wanderers. Like something foreign. Something we don’t belong to anymore.”

He looked around the room — at the shards of your past, still flickering. Smoke curling around dying light. A graveyard of ghosts you built together.

“It’s ugly,” he added. “But it’s beautiful, too. In its ruin.”

For the first time since the experiment began, you genuinely wanted to leave. Not rage-walk. Not storm out. Just… go.

Slip out the side door of your own psyche and vanish into air that didn’t taste like grief.

But there was no exit. Only forward.

Caleb moved ahead without a word. His body, usually so precise, so full of intention, now moved with the flatness of routine, of resignation. Like he, too, would rather be anywhere else — any room, any war zone, any alternate timeline — as long as it was far from this one. Far from you.

Still, you followed.

Your jaw clenched. Your breath caught sharp behind your teeth. You could feel the exhaustion sliding down your spine, thick and slow, but you didn’t let it stop you. You were going to finish this room. This experiment. This punishment. Whatever it was.

You were going to finish it with your head up. Even if, by the end, the only thing left to break was you.

And him.

Because he wasn’t stopping either.

And if the only thing you could do now was survive each other — then so be it.

The next room was vast. Empty in that curated kind of way that made chaos feel designed.

A sprawl of objects covered the floor — furniture, glass, cheap electronics, ceramic towers, crushed memories disguised as junk. It looked random, but you knew better. Nothing in this place was random.

And then there were the cars. Or what passed for cars.

Two stripped-down, reinforced vehicles — half desert racer, half post-apocalyptic scrap tank. No doors. No bodies. Just exposed frames padded with thick rubber guards. For safety. For impact.

In each one, a helmet.

You reached for the driver’s seat, fingers brushing the wheel, ignoring the helmet like it was a suggestion, not a rule — until Caleb’s voice cut in, low and sharp.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You froze. Spun on him.

“Oh, you’re giving orders now? That’s rich.”

You held the helmet by the chin strap, weighing it like you might throw it at his head.

“What about you?” you snapped. “Think I didn’t notice you weren’t planning to wear yours either?”

He didn’t answer. Just walked up to you and, with a startling lack of hesitation, jammed the helmet down onto your head. It caught on your ears. You cursed. He tightened the strap under your chin like he’d done it a hundred times. Maybe he had.

“I’ll wear mine,” he said, finally. “I know what this is. I know I’m your target.”

“That’s not the point of the exercise,” you muttered, flushed — not just from rage, but from the unbearable closeness of his fingers near your pulse.

You hated how your body still reacted. How it didn’t get the memo.

“Then let’s go,” he said, gesturing toward a tall ceramic vase as if that made anything simpler. “Hit something that won’t hit back.”

You threw yourself behind the wheel.

The engine roared awake — guttural, loud, too loud. It made your bones vibrate. Made your blood move. You wanted to scream. Instead, you pressed the gas.

At first, you aimed where you were supposed to — toward the objects. Toward the walls of cheap plaster, mannequins dressed in tattered remnants of other lives, cardboard boxes that exploded with satisfying finality under your tires. Something crunched. Something hissed. The world responded to your force. You smirked.

It felt good. But not enough.

Not with him still grinning across the room like this was just another simulation. Another exercise. Another moment where he got to stay composed while you unraveled.

And so —

You jerked the wheel. Toward him.

You slammed your foot down and the car jolted forward, rattling like a live thing. You didn’t know what you were doing. Only that you wanted impact. Needed it.

Caleb veered sharply to the right. You followed. He hit a cluster of mannequins, their limbs flying like blown petals. You turned tighter, skidding across a field of splintered boxes, your tires spitting cardboard shrapnel.

"Thought you said this wasn’t about targeting me!" he shouted over the roar of the engines.

"It’s not," you yelled back, swerving hard to chase him. "It’s about physics. You just happen to be in the way!"

He laughed. Loud. Honest. Then, dodging left, "God, you were a menace on a tricycle."

"And you were a sanctimonious little hall monitor!"

"You stole my lunch for a month!"

"You deserved it. You put raisins in everything."

“You loved raisin muffins.”

“Muffins, Caleb. Not pasta. Not rice.”

Another near-miss. You clipped the back of his car with a glorious metallic screech. He swerved, recovered, accelerated. You pushed harder.

You were hunting him now. You wanted to see him sweat. Not because you hated him, but because you couldn’t stand how much you still didn’t.

“Who gave the toddler a license?” he barked.

“Probably the same genius who made you a colonel!”

And then you caught him.

Your front bumper slammed into the side of his car with a satisfying, ugly crunch. Both vehicles jolted. Metal howled. You felt your own body snap forward, then whip back.

Then — his car spun, but yours skidded too far. You tried to correct, but it was too late.

You hit the wall.

Plywood gave way with a groan, but not enough. Your car embedded half its frame into the splintering surface, the engine sputtering, then smoking — thick, chemical breath rising like something had finally given up.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t panic. You just… stopped.

The world narrowed.

Then he was there.

You didn’t see him jump out. Didn’t see him run. But suddenly he was there, ripping open the harness, yanking the helmet off your head with shaking hands.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he snapped, eyes scanning you, touching your shoulders, your arms, your ribs like memory. “Are you hurt? Are you —? Look at me. Pips! Look at me.”

You looked. And then — smirked.

A small, crooked thing, like the aftermath of chaos.

Then you laughed.

At first, it was just breath. A puff of absurdity.  But it built. And it broke.

You laughed harder. The kind of laughter that comes too close to tears, that spills out sideways and jagged. Your whole body shook. You couldn't stop. Couldn't breathe.

And then — he did too.

His forehead pressed against yours. His chest stuttered with laughter. It wasn’t funny. It was never funny. And that’s what made it so goddamn necessary.

You clung to each other like gravity had forgotten how to work.

Your fists balled in the front of his shirt. His arms circled around your back, then up, then closed like steel around your head. He pulled you to his chest and held you there, hard, tight, like the world could crack open any second and he wasn’t going to risk letting go.

Your laughter broke first.

It caved.

And then came the sob.

One. Then another.

Your shoulders buckled. Your breath hitched. And then you were sobbing against him — ugly, heaving, violent tears that had waited far too long. Everything you hadn’t said, hadn’t allowed, hadn’t felt came pouring out in great gasping waves.

He held you like it was all he knew how to do.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

“Why does it hurt so much, Caleb?” you whispered through the sobs, your nails digging into his back. “Why did every day with you start feeling like a survival quest?”

His lips brushed your temple, featherlight. His fingers moved through your hair — slow, grounding, almost clinical in their tenderness. A rhythm. A scan. Every few strokes, the pressure shifted just slightly, as if mapping out where you carried the worst of it.

And still, you couldn’t ignore the truth: you knew exactly what he was capable of. With those same hands, he could crack your skull like a walnut. Break you clean in two.

But he didn’t. And that restraint ached just as much as anything else.

“I don’t have an answer,” he murmured. “I only know one thing. That being without you hurt worse. But the idea that you were suffering with me... That I — my own fear, my own fucking hands — destroyed the most sacred thing I ever touched...”

You shook your head and pressed your hand to his mouth. You didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence. You wouldn’t survive it.

“We both did it,” you said. “You don’t get to take all the blame. It’s always two people. Always. Equal weight.”

He kissed your fingers. Gently. And you pulled your hand back like it had caught fire.

The flicker in his eyes was instant.

Pain. And something else — like memory, or the echo of wanting.

“There was a time,” he said, “when we were the closest people in the world. Cliché or not, we were a single thing. Now look at us. Look at you. I’m not even sure you want me this close.”

“No,” you snapped, gripping his shoulders. “No, don’t say that. I’m terrified of how much I need you close. I’m scared of what I might do if you keep looking at me like that. If you touch me again. I’ve been fighting since the moment we walked into this place. Fighting not to —”

“Not to what?” he growled, closer now, voice frayed.

“Not to try again,” you breathed. “Not to want again.”

His hands locked around your waist. His face was right there. Breath on breath. Your bodies a magnet of wrong time, wrong place, right everything.

But he didn’t kiss you.

He held you at the edge, suspended, with something like agony in his eyes.

“Saying that out loud,” he said through clenched teeth, “is reckless. It’s dangerous.”

“Meaning it is worse,” you said, barely audible.

You could feel his heart against your ribs — fast, raw, so human it hurt to listen. And then he said, lower now:

“Are you really this cruel? You want the last working piece of me to break, don’t you?”

“No,” you whispered, stepping back, breath shivering. “No, Caleb. If I could, I’d give everything — everything — just to take your pain away. But how can I, when I’m still living in rubble? When I don’t know how to plan for tomorrow, or next week. When I can’t even picture where I’m going. I just keep moving. Blind.”

He looked at you for a long time.

And in that look — something bottomless. Not pity. Not anger. Something like recognition. You felt it in your ribs, your spine, your breath. Like he’d looked through your skin and seen the exact same void you saw in him.

He stepped back gently. Then rose to his feet.

Wordlessly, he extended a hand to help you up. You took it. Let him lift you.

He glanced around the room, then toward the wreckage, the wall, the place where your car had finally given up.

A low huff of a laugh escaped him.

“Of course,” he muttered. “The exit’s right where you crashed.”

You followed his gaze.

He was right.

Just one thing left to break.

The wall gave way with almost no resistance. It split open like it had been waiting for the final blow. You stepped through, side by side, not speaking. And suddenly, the world shifted.

No floor. No weight. No direction. You were in a massive, sterile cylinder, suspended in air — except there was no air current, no movement, no sensation of falling. Just drift. Your feet detached from the surface, and that was it. You were floating. Weightless. Unanchored.

The space felt unreal. Too smooth. Too quiet. A hum beneath the silence, like some great system breathing in sleep. High above, three exit hatches blinked with dull blue light — two narrow, one wide. The single exits were clearly labeled. The larger one read: DUO. Beneath it, a platform hovered, inert. A voice filtered in through the chamber, calm and cold.

“Three exits. One for each individual. One for those who remain. Shared exit requires cooperative locomotion and continuous dual contact. Time limit: irrelevant. Success requires choice.”

You drifted. He drifted. You turned your head and saw him across the space, his body slow-spinning, expression tight. This was supposed to be his realm. Gravity. That was his Evol, his identity, his anchor. But here, it was nothing. Disabled. Cut off. You could see the glitch in him, the way he processed the loss of control. And still, he didn’t panic. He just… adjusted.

You floated near one of the solo exits. It would be so easy. A small push. An end. A beginning. Alone. And then it passed behind you.

You saw him again, a little closer this time. You reached out, almost without thinking, and caught his hand. No rush. No symbolism. Just fingers brushing fingers in a place without weight.

Your hands gripped. Held. And you pulled yourself in, gently, until your faces were close enough for words. Your breath felt warm between you, even in the cold of engineered air.

“I’m not ready to leave here without you,” you said. “I don’t know what that means, or what it’ll cost. But I’m not ready.”

He didn’t speak immediately. His hand tightened on yours. Then, suddenly focused, he said, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

You blinked. “What —”

“Trust me. I can’t bend the field in here, but I can feel the currents — like micro-resistance. If we stay connected, I think I can guide us through it.” His voice shifted into command mode — confident, steady, and irritatingly hot. “Angle your hips left. No, a little more. Perfect. Now shift your weight forward.”

You moved with him. It felt awkward at first, like trying to learn to breathe underwater. But then something clicked — your center of gravity merged, found alignment, caught onto an invisible pulse. Like tuning into a frequency only his body knew how to hear.

“There,” he said. “We’re in it.”

You glided, slowly at first, then more directly. He adjusted, compensated, kept you level. He took you through the space like a conductor feeling the music in muscle and bone.

The platform under the shared exit blinked to life as you approached.

“Now,” he said, and reached out. Together, you hit the button.

Gravity returned in a single, devastating second. You dropped like a stone — feet on solid ground, air in your lungs, heat in your skin. You didn’t let go of each other. Not right away.

Not yet.

What came next stunned you. 

Where pain and rage had once lived like permanent tenants, there was only silence. You no longer felt the urge to scream, to break something, to tear through walls or claw through your own skin. Something had been rewritten in you. Recoded. As if the metaphysical cancer had been excised. Removed without anesthesia, yes — but removed all the same.

You took one step. Then another. And your body felt different. Not like it did in zero-gravity, not quite. But something remained of that lightness. That sense of floating just above your own sorrow.

You didn’t speak. Neither did he. Words would have broken the seal on something sacred.

You emerged into the final hallway together. Unspoken choreography. At the return counter, you shed the gear — gloves, goggles, names. One of the staff blinked, visibly surprised, and said, almost to himself, “No one’s ever mastered the gravity room that fast.” Then louder, “Would you like photos?”

You looked at the screen, flipping quickly past the chaos, the fracture, the violence. You stopped on the frame where the two of you floated — just suspended, hands clasped, nowhere to go but together. You tapped it. Took the printout without a word.

Caleb printed something for himself, too. You didn’t see what.

You walked outside. It was already dark, the wind sharp against your cheeks. The kind of cold that wakes you up, reminds you that you’re still alive.

Without meaning to, your bodies shifted toward familiar geography — toward your place. Once his, too.

And then, like nothing had changed and everything had, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. No words. No offer. Just instinct.

You didn’t argue. The fabric was warm. And it smelled like him. Like worn-in leather and something sharp underneath. You let it settle.

“What do you regret most?” you asked, quietly, almost to yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t have. But you knew, with sudden clarity, that whatever came now — wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe it would be sad. But it wouldn’t be cruel.

“That I gave up too soon,” he said, after a moment.

You laughed softly. “Too soon? You followed me for three months. After work. To the grocery store. You left flowers in my bike basket. Random books on my doorstep.”

He gave a crooked shrug, not quite defensive. “It sounds stupid now. Hollow. But I didn’t know what else to do. How else to tell you I was trying. That I was willing to change. That I just needed you to hear me.”

“To me it felt like a trap,” you said. “Like you were setting bait. Like you wanted to pin me down and hold me there. In the state I was in... if you’d just disappeared for a week, I probably would’ve come running. In tears. Begging you not to leave again.”

He sighed. “So I got it wrong. Again.”

“Not wrong, exactly.” You looked at him, then ahead. The street was quiet. Your block already in sight. “That’s the problem, I think. For both of us. We keep thinking we know better. Like I assume I know what you need, when really, it’s just what I need.”

You glanced at him. “Like you dreaming your whole life of this expensive model starship. Then giving it to me. Thinking it would make me happy. Because it would make you happy.”

His smile came slow, bittersweet. “And all you ever wanted was someone to just sit on the porch and look at the moon.”

You nodded. “Exactly.”

By then, you were already at the gate. Home.

You stopped. Both of you.

You didn’t reach for your keys. He didn’t move forward. Just standing there, jacket on your shoulders, silence resting comfortably between your bodies.

“Caleb…” you said softly, already knowing you didn’t need to finish.

He sighed. The kind of sigh that had learned to carry meaning. “I don’t have an answer,” he said. “I want to try again. And I don’t. I dream about holding you every night, and then I wake up. And it’s… cruel.”

“I have the same thoughts,” you admitted. “But I can’t just erase you. Not now. Not ever. And I’ll never be the one to suggest we stay friends.”

He smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Technically, you just did.”

“I said I’d never say it,” you shot back, lifting your chin. “Not that I said it.”

There was a beat, then you added, “What if we let chance decide?”

“A coin toss?” he raised an eyebrow.

“No. The photos. The ones we printed. If they match — if they’re even close — I’ll invite you in. For tea.”

He tilted his head, amused. “Tea. Very non-committal of you.”

“If they don’t match,” you continued, “then maybe… it’s not the time. Maybe we see each other again. Maybe we don’t.”

“You always did like risk,” he said dryly. “Alright. No promises.”

“No promises,” you echoed.

“On three?”

You both pulled out your photos at the same time. Held them up.

The silence stretched.

“Well then,” you said.

“Yeah,” he murmured, the edge of a smile in his voice.

“I have only one question,” you said, turning toward the door, your voice lighter now, teasing. “Black or green?”

He gave a soft huff and curled his arm gently around your waist, guiding you toward the entrance. “Like you don’t already know.”

“I do,” you said, slipping the photo back into your bag. 

The exact same photo. Identical in angle, in light, in pause. The moment where you floated together. Still not touching. But already not letting go.

The... END?

So… you survived the end. But is it really the end?

Let’s be honest — I wrote a scene. A very explicit one. The kind I haven’t posted before. Spicy, slow, and entirely too much in the best/worst way. But after everything that happened in this story, slapping it on the end felt… wrong. Like putting a silk ribbon on a smoking crater. So I cut it.

But. If this hits 100 reblogs in 24h, I’ll post the continuation I cut — the scene that didn’t fit the concept, because it was too much: too raw, too intimate, too honest. But also... very, very smutty. And maybe the only kind of peace these two could’ve found. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve earned it. Let’s see if they do.

[cybersunnie]

the look of love | collection

02 RAFE CAMERON accidentally runs into Miss Sugar.

includes ib request / fem!teacher!reader / uncle!rafe / reader goes by "miss sugar" / fluff / dialogue heavy / mildly suggestive / wc 1.9k

Rafe rarely had good days. They were tolerable. Average, but never good. 

Today wasn’t any different. 

The moment he woke up, he had received the worst news he could receive: an investor pulled out of his latest project. Why? Because it was taking too long. Rafe couldn’t exactly argue with him there. Delays had occurred and put them behind schedule. But still, that son of a bitch was a millionaire. He had money to spare.

Whatever. He didn’t need him. That was what he thought until he saw the looks of his remaining investors’ faces when he reassured them to stay confident in his project. It was safe to say they weren’t very convinced. 

Everything was going just as planned. Clearly. 

And now, he loitered in the Kildare Retreat’s parking lot, staring at the beige three-story building before him. It was an apartment complex located just outside The Cut. One of his first projects. The one when people finally started to believe he had what it took to run his dad’s business. He earned their respect. Every smartass that had something to say before became mute in his presence. 

He supposed that was why he always found himself at Kildare Retreat. If he had done it then, he could have done it now, and he desperately needed that reminder.

But it was hard to reflect on anything when someone had music blasting on the third floor. Rafe didn’t know what was playing. An old song, he knew that much. It must be a new tenant. Some inconsiderate, low-life—

The music got louder as a door swung open, and a woman emerged, holding a paint can in each hand. 

Who was this bitch?

Rafe raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. Once he squinted, the woman’s face cleared. Holy shit. He stepped away from his car and dropped his hand. You were the woman, his niece and nephew’s art teacher, Miss Sugar. The last time he saw you was when he picked up the kids, and since then, you have been a fleeting but persistent presence in his mind. 

Whatever insult he had ready to go vanished. 

You could play your music as loud as you wanted to. That was a problem for your neighbors to deal with, anyway. 

You descended the stairs and stopped in front of what he assumed was your car—a sedan he was sure had seen better days. It looked like it was on its last leg. When you popped your trunk open, you glanced in his direction and finally saw him.

Your eyes widened. He waved.

“Hey!” you greeted, your voice higher than usual. You cleared your throat and lugged the paint cans into your car. “You’re Jackson and Josie’s uncle, right? Rafe Cameron?”

Before he could stop himself, he smiled. You remembered.

“That’s me.” Rafe approached you, stopping just a foot away. “Miss Sugar?” 

You grinned, the corners of your eyes wrinkling. “So formal,” you teased. That alone had his cheeks feeling warm. “I’m outside work. Please, just call me Sugar.”

He wondered if that was your real name. It could be a nickname. Either way, it suited you—sweet and addictive. 

“If you insist, Sugar.” 

Your eyes narrowed, and you asked, “So, what are you doing here?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Are you stalking me?”

His blood ran cold. “What? No—”

You held up a hand to stop his ramblings, laughing, “Calm down, I’m joking.”

He scoffed. You were going to give him a heart attack one day. 

Rafe scratched his brow and then eyed the green and blue paint cans. “You gonna do some painting?” he assumed, nodding toward them.

“Yeah. A mural for the school,” you clarified, turning around to shut your trunk, steel hitting steel. “Also, you never answered my question.”

He licked the inside of his cheek. “Right, I’m just visiting,” he answered plainly. When nothing else was said, you gestured for him to elaborate further. You were nosy like Josie. “I designed Kildare Retreats.”

Your brows raised, and your lips parted in surprise. But that all muddled into a look of confusion the longer you stared at him. He watched the frown on your face deepen until your eyes flickered with recognition, a lightbulb appearing over your head.

“Cameron Development,” you said, snapping your fingers. “It’s literally on the entrance sign—I don’t know how I didn’t put that together.”

Amused, he chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, it’s really nice,” you praised, craning your neck to stare at the apartment building behind you. Rafe wondered if you genuinely liked it or were just being polite. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latter. “You guys did a great job.”

“Thank you,” he replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

And for a moment, there was silence. 

The song that blasted from your apartment carried through the parking lot. You were beautiful in the sunlight, your hair fluttering in the wind. Nothing captured his attention like you did. Rafe knew he was staring, but you were staring at him, too. Your gaze roamed his face like a gentle caress, and he swore you could see right through him.

“Do you have time?”

Your voice brought him back to reality. “What?”

“I just, uh, I’d like some help transferring the rest of my things into my car,” you explained, your hands smoothing down your jeans. “If you’re up for it, of course.”

Rafe glanced at his watch. He still had time. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

“Great!” you beamed as you motioned him to follow you. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

After many flights of stairs later, you led him to your apartment. Through the booming music, Rafe heard bed creaks followed by an over-the-top pornographic moan from next door. His lips curled in distaste. No wonder your speaker was on full blast. 

Once you opened your door, sunlight bleeding into the space, he was greeted with a mess. It's not a gross, rotting mess. Just disorganized. Your brain probably looked like this, too. The coffee table in the living room was cluttered with stacks of paper with yellow sticky notes that said ‘STUDENT WORK :)’ slapped on top. Boxes hugged the walls, newspapers were beneath a freshly painted canvas, and paintbrushes were stuffed in a cup near the kitchen sink. 

It was a sight, for sure.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” you said over the music, stepping aside to let him in. “I’ve been doing more painting than cleaning.” 

Rafe tried to appear indifferent, but Sarah always told him he was never good at hiding his feelings. He shrugged, “Nah, you’re good.”

Your chin dipped hollowly to your chest, and you kicked a small box out of your way. You must have caught his bluff. Oh, well. At least, he tried. 

He looked around your apartment, his gaze lingering on the framed pictures of what he assumed to be your parents. A heavy feeling weighed on his chest. He forgot what it was like to have parents. But the sound of your grunts caught his attention, and he saw you hunched over and dragging a storage bin toward him.

“Can you carry this, please?” With a huff, you dropped the bin next to his feet. “Just be careful. It’s pretty heavy, so—”

Rafe picked it up with ease. You clamped your mouth shut.

“Never mind,” you said, your eyes falling to his arms, chest rising as you sucked in a breath. “You’re, uh, very strong.”

His lips twitched at your unabashed stare. Though, your gaze was more innocent than anything. A look of admiration as opposed to lust. You eventually turned on your heel and walked into a closet.

“You got any new projects you’re working on?”

Rafe adjusted his hold on the bin. “Yeah,” he answered, “a couple of studios in Figure Eight.”

As he approached the closet, you suddenly poked your head out the doorway and asked, “Figure Eight’s Northside, right?” When he nodded, you disappeared behind the wall again. “I’m still trying to get used to your guys’ lingo.”

Your words replayed in his head. So, you hadn’t lived in Kildare for that long. That explained why you were so friendly with him. You didn’t know his history.

You came out with a rolled-up tarp in your arms, your lips pursed in thought. “What kind of studios?” 

“It’ll be up to the tenant what they wanna do with the space.” Rafe looked you up and down, his head tilting. “Why?”

The smile on your face faded into something less genuine. “I’ve always wanted an art studio,” you said, the music almost drowning out your voice, “but I don’t have the money for it.”

“We can work something out,” he offered, his mouth working faster than his brain. 

You stared at him, doe-eyed. “Really?”

Rafe chuckled, “Of course.”

He saw your gentle eyes harden, analyzing him, searching for a speck of insincerity. You looked at him like everyone else had his whole life—like he was just some fuck up you couldn’t trust. It made him nervous, worried that you were starting to see that, too. But soon enough, you returned to your sweet and unknowing self, smiling. 

“Alright, well, c’mon,” you ushered, striding past him to disconnect your phone from the speaker. 

The music cut off abruptly, and your neighbors were louder than ever. You didn’t seem fazed by it, though. He wondered if this was a daily occurrence for you. 

You stepped outside. “I don’t wanna waste more of your time.”

Once he followed you out, Rafe waited while you locked up your place. His eyes trailed to your neighbor’s door, their moans having turned into screams of ecstasy. Intense and raw and unnecessarily loud. He might as well be in the room with them. 

“I should've put better soundproofing for these apartments,” he mused, his brows pinching together.

When you looked at him, you frowned and tilted your head, “What makes you say that?”

He huffed, a smile creeping on his face at your feigned ignorance. You bumped your shoulder into him as you walked past him, and the brief interaction made him forget about the ache beginning to settle in his arms. 

It didn’t take long for you both to descend the stairs and return to your car. You opened the rear door and plopped the tarp onto the floorboard. He did as he was told and set the storage bin on the backseat, and you buckled it into place.

You clasped your hands, grinning, “Thank you so much for your help.”

“No problem.” 

Rafe could hear the birds, the rustling leaves, the vehicles that drove by, and how the asphalt crunched beneath your shoes when you stepped toward your car to close the door. His mind was quiet around you.

“Oh, about that art studio—” He took out his wallet, retrieved his business card, and handed it to you, “—I’m just a call away.”

You glanced at the card, reading the information before taking it. “Okay, CEO, I see you,��� you mumbled teasingly. “Thanks again.”

He smirked, stashing his wallet away in his pocket. “Don’t be a stranger, Sugar,” he said, echoing the words you had exchanged when you first crossed paths. 

Your smile widened, the apples of your cheeks lifting. “I won’t,” you promised, genuine sincerity dancing in your eyes as they dropped to the card for a split second. “Have a nice day, Rafe."

He nodded. “You too.”

And as he walked back to his car, he couldn’t help but get one last look at you. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that you were already in the driver’s seat, and your gaze met his through the rearview mirror. He immediately looked forward, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rafe had a terrifying realization: he would do anything to keep you around longer.

sunnie speaks! IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i'm sorry it took so long; i've been busy w school </3 but i love my babies sm so i hoped you guys enjoyed reading!!! let's chat about rafe cameron / teacher!reader

if you like my work, consider following my library blog (@sunniefics) to be notified of all my future fics!

TAGLIST:  @rluvsr @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @larvalerius @rafesheaven

[cuteandhughesy]

Love Looks Pretty On You | Jonathan Kovacevic

summary: dating one of the members of the new jersey devils roster was frowned upon, and breaching that rule could result in the loss of your job—however, when johnathan kovacevic comes into the picture, the rules seem to fade away

[word count] 15.5k

warnings: NSFW! workplace romance | forbidden relationship | coach!reader | suggestive dialogue throughout entirety of the fic | shameless flirting and teasing | fluff | lil bit of angst | kissing | alcohol | smut | phone sex | (f + m) masturbation | oral (f receiving) | protected p in v | suggestive themes | read at your own discretion

a/n: based off this lovely request! this is a player i’ve never written before, and before this request I wasn’t too familiar with (just his name and the team he plays for) so i’m so happy to have learned and now share! but i’m actually really happy with this, so I hope you love.

🎵 love looks pretty on you by nessa barrett

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part1: job of your dreams

you toy with the long stick of liquid eyeliner, biting the most sensitive part of your inner lip as you contemplate your next move. your eyes dart back to your own reflection, examining your usual makeup look that you'd just finished. is winged liner too much?

today is the first day of your new—dream—job. a job which before jessica campbell paved the way to woman leading jobs in the nhl, you never imagined you'd achieve...but here you are—in your bathroom, minus 1 hour until you needed to show your face at prudential center and contemplating if you wanted to add a small black wing on your eyelid.

you want to come off sophisticated and put together, and you can't decide if liner is the perfect way to showcase that...or the complete opposite. you look down to the drugstore branded stick, and with a rough sigh, you slot it back in your drawer—nestled between other coloured pencils you're always hesitant in using and a stack of blotting sheets you always forget to grab before heading out.

you leave your warm bathroom without another glance at the mess of makeup left on your bathroom counter, hastily making your way through the hallway and towards the kitchen—you still need to get your coffee ready. the sound of your feet padding along the hardwood has you cat, hazelnut, chirping sweetly, jumping off the back of the couch in favour of weaving through your legs.

you almost trip, and you curse gently. "hazy, baby, please—i'm nervous enough already? the last thing I need is to fall and break my nose beforehand."

she blinks her wide green eyes at you, and obviously that's as much as an answer you're going to get out of your sweet kitty. you sigh, carefully walking around her and to the previously brewed coffee pot. to keep with the professional vibe you're hoping to give off, you opt for a sleek black travel tumbler, filling it dangerously high with decaf—although the chances of you leaving it in your cup holder is so high, you could've chose a rangers branded tumbler and it wouldn't of really mattered.

you fasten the lid, turning and meeting the eyes of hazelnut—who's now sitting comfortably on your kitchen island, her striped tail wagging happily. you give your cat a nervous, closed lip smile. "wish me luck!"

and in some twisted way like your cat can understand you, she meows once, a slow blink of her eyes following. it has the nerves bubbling in your stomach settling down ever so slightly, and you finally feel like you can drag yourself out the house.

just before you open the door, you double back and speed walk back into your mess of a bathroom, pulling the top drawer back open and grabbing not only your blotting sheets, but the eyeliner as well—throwing them both into your purse.

the drive to the arena was filled with your own personal ferris wheel of nervous anticipation and self deprecation—accompanied by your cheesy pop playlist full of tate mcrae, the wicked broadway soundtrack, and everything in between. you're so focused on not only the road ahead, but with the thoughts of how you'll make the best impression on the men that you'll be helping coach.

the professional hockey players that you'll be coaching. it's so surreal, and just as exciting—so much so that you're not even positive it's completely sunk in, despite the butterflies in your stomach reminding you every single minute.

by the time you pull into the parking lot, you're only just realizing you left too early—the practically empty parking lot and time on your dashboard undeniable evidence as such. you turn off your engine, unbuckling your seatbelt with a deep breath. you fall back into your seat, attempting to get a grip on your sweaty limbs and racing heart.

"fuck it." you chime, digging through your purse while simultaneously flipping your visior down—the mirror lights shining in your face. you grab the eyeliner, and with another sigh, you begin lining your lashes, creating the smallest wing. you pull back, and surprisingly enough it looks really good—good choice, you think to yourself.

"okay," you smile, "now just the other side." talking to yourself has always been your favourite pass time, as clinically insane as that may seem. there's no friend—or critique—like yourself, and sometimes you needed you to tell yourself things—like the choice to bring your eyeliner for example...smart.

you drop the felt tip to the middle of your lid, and slowly begin dragging it outwards. you're pretty sure your tongue is poking out as a concentration method, and you can only hope none of your new team members are around to see the way your face is contorted.

a soccer ball smacks against your window, making you jump. the tip of your eyeliner follows the line of your face, a thick black line going all the way back to your hairline. "shit!"

shocked, and still flustered from the sudden scare you whip around to look through the driver's window in an attempt to see what the fuck just occurred. a battered soccer ball rolls away from your tires, back in the direction it came from. your eyes follow the pattern, slowly trailing the line until you're landing upon...oh it's a man.

a man who is jogging towards your car with a sheepish expression on his face. you open your door and quickly get out of the car just as the man stops in front of you—his guilty expression not yet letting up.

he's actually quite handsome, you think. beautiful tawny skin with a hint of dark stubble lining his sharp jaw and chin. he's also tall, like intimidatingly so—it has you feeling tiny in comparison.

"i'm so sorry," he starts, voice gravelly in a way that has your stomach swooping. "soccer has never been my sport of choice...for obvious reasons." the man gestures between the now still soccer ball and your open car door, a small, but hesitant grin taking over his face.

if you were angry before, you're not anymore—any remarks dying on your tongue at the sight of the attractive man in front of you. you clear your throat twice, blinking to regain focus—this is the last thing you needed to be thinking about on a day as big as this one. you're not sure exactly what to say, but you know the words that leave your mouth next aren't the right ones. "yeah, soccer sucks."

his eyes twinkle with amusement, his grin growing slightly. behind you, a small brunette with killer curves and a phone in her hands calls for him. "johnny, can you at least throw the ball back! i'm missing prime content—wait, luke come back!" the girl in question attempts getting luke hughes, an nhl player you're well familiar with, to participate in whatever video she's filming—clearly one that involves the soccer ball between you and johnny.

he picks up the ball before tossing it back in her direction, which another player who looks like dougie hamilton catches. johnny turns back to you, eyes following the black line on your face. "you've got makeup..." he trails off, gesturing to the area on his own face.

you gasp slightly, memories of only moments ago when you'd totally not only messed up your eyeliner, but your face makeup. "fuck," you curse hurriedly, darting back into your car and pulling the mirror as close to yourself as it can go. you're in an awkward position, half in your car while your ass juts out.

johnny clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he attempt to draw his eyes away from your backside—your ass and thighs that are perfectly hugged by the heather gray slacks you're wearing.

you lick your thumb, swiping the liner—but it only makes more of a mess. "double fuck." you pull yourself out of your car, turning back to the 6"5 god behind you. he's blushing now, eyes not quite meeting yours as he attempts to calm himself down—johnathan doesn't think he's ever been this turned on from dress pants in his life.

"do you have a napkin? or maybe some tissue?" you ask him, seemingly unaware of the tension in his shoulders and flickering gaze.

slowly, he shakes his head. "no, I don't, i'm sorry." his face falls as yours does. he hates the way your clear disappointment makes him feel...fuzzy. johnathan steps closer, his mouth opening as he tries to finds his wording. "but, I can help...If you want. ill just use the sleeve of my sweater, I can wet it and clean you up..." his eyes twinkle, an awkward chuckle leaving him. "you can even lick the sweater if you prefer."

you look up at him with what you can only describe as a combination of amusement and disbelief. johnny has already pulled his black sweatshirt over his fist, closing the distance between you with one large step. "you can lick it, I don't mind."

he's kind of relived that you don't want to lube up his sweater with your spit, because then johnathan would be really turned on. he nods, wetting the edge of his sweater before bringing it up to the side of your face, gently wiping away the mess of eyeliner smudged along there.

despite how odd this whole interaction is, you can't help but feel rather enamoured with the mystery man—a man who obviously plays for the new jersey devils, or at least works for them. but based on his stature and the size of his quads peeking out from his athletic shorts—you're thinking it's the former.

his eyes are filled with nothing but concentration as he wipes away the makeup off your skin, his sweater soft against the side of your face as he works. you watch as his tongue pokes out the corner of his lips as he focuses, and that has a smile blossoming on your face.

"okay," he begins quietly, using the other side of his sleeve to dry your skin. "you might want to double check that, but I got it all off—well, my sweater did." johnathan laughs that awkward rumble again, and you can't help the way it makes your heart leap.

so much for being professional.

"thanks." you hum, smile growing. "i'm y/n."

he breathes in something that feels like relief, shoulders dropping slightly as the tension he'd been feeling earlier begins dispersing. "johnathan."

your brows pull in confusion, but your grin stays. "that girl called you johnny, is that what you prefer I call you?"

"you can call me anything you want." the words slip from his tongue before he can think them through, and johnathan hates the way his cheeks flush at his own words—but he loves the way your cheeks do.

"okay," you hum, turning to grab your purse from the passenger seat of the car. you take a glance in your visior mirror, and surprisingly he did a really good job at fixing your makeup—the wing is a little wonky but all the men you'll soon be surrounded with won't notice...you hope. you stand up straight, shutting the car door with an echoing thump.

the parking lot has begun filling up, various hockey players and team members making their way inside—most participating in the game the admin girl had set up by the entrance.

"i'll call you johnny then." you hum lowly, adjusting your purse on your shoulder as you begin making your way towards the entrance doors—heels clicking the pavement as you do. considering you're actively meeting and speaking to one of the guys you'll be coaching, slapping on the faux confident personality came as second nature.

it's not that you weren't confident in your job ability to coach these professional athletes—you were more than prepared and qualified for such. but, you've never been super confident in your personal life, especially when it has to do with attractive men who you really shouldn't be forming an attraction for.

regardless, you glance over you shoulder—eyeing his frozen stature and slightly agape mouth accompanied with an amused, flushed expression. "you coming, johnny?"

your question seems to snap him out of whatever daze he'd been trapped in, blinking three times quick as he begins moving, catching up to you with two strides—honestly, screw tall men with their long limbs! or maybe you just want to actually screw them...you can't decipher that right now.

much to johnathan's dismay, as soon as you enter the building, you are swept away by a member of staff, leaving him to stand awkwardly by himself for a fleeting moment until he realizes what the fuck he's doing. before the devils on ice practice today, they'd all been called in early for what keefe and fitzgerald described as an 'introductory meeting'—whatever that means.

it's not long until he's walking through the threshold of the large room, finding most of his teammates and various members of staff already in there. some sitting and chatting, while others haven't yet taken a seat, but instead stand beside the long rectangle tables as they discuss whatever they might be discussing.

johnathan takes his seat beside brett pesce and curtis lazar, greeting his teammates with a closed lipped smile and quick nod, stretching his long legs out underneath the table. they make small talk as the rest of the team filters into the room, following suit and finding various spots throughout the room to take their seats.

it's not 10 minutes later that the head coach and general manager of the team join them—smiling politely as they come to a stop at the front of the meeting room. fitzgerald clears his throat, and although the room has begun quieting down at the authority figures presence, it completely silenced as he begins to speak. "thank you all for coming so early, we appreciate your time for such a special meeting."

special? johnathan thinks, frown tugging at his lips. what's so special about this meeting?

the GM continues, an easy expression on his sunkissed face. "as you know, we've been looking for a new fit for our open assistant coaching position behind the bench. sheldon and I wanted to make sure that this person was not only qualified, but was fun, exciting and above all knowledgeable...." he trails off, smile growing. "with that being said, id like to introduce you to our newest member of staff: assistant coach, y/n y/l/n."

it's then that johnathan notices you—you and your ridiculously faltering pants and sexy eyeliner. he swallows nervously, eyes darting around the room like he's done something wrong. he hasn't, so he's not sure by it feels that way. he should've known that you and your new, pretty face had something to do with the introduction meeting sprung on the team.

beside him, brett snickers. "how are we supposed to focus with that talking to us?" his words are hushed and slow, brett's eyes never once leaving your figure as you begin introducing yourself to the room.

that comment makes johnathan feel the upmost angry, and suddenly he feels very inclined to punch his defensive teammate in the jaw. but, he thankfully doesn't. what he does do though is narrow his gaze, shrugging his shoulders roughly. "learn."

johnathan doesn't wait for brett's reply before turning his attention towards you, catching the tail end of your introduction. he kind of feels like a sleaze anytime his eyes wander over your body, studying the curve of your hips and the round, full display of your breasts under your high necked cotton top. it also doesn't help that he knows what your ass looks like bent over, or how he knows that you smell like peaches doused in brown sugar—that he knows how your skin feels underneath his spit covered hoodie.

a low groan rumbles in johnathan’s chest—thankfully it’s not loud enough to draw the attention of any close teammates, because he really doesn’t want to explain that. subtly, he adjusts in his seat, palming his semi-hard bulge as if he's trying to tell his dick to cut it out. you're acting like such a douche, he thinks.

you stand on the other side of sheldon keefe, half listening as he goes over some minor details before the start of ice practice. you can't help the way your eyes wonder, analyzing the new faces of various players you'll soon be coaching. jack hughes, who looks tired and like he'd rather be anywhere else this morning. then there's curtis lazar, who is the complete opposite of the middle hughes brother—eyes wide and alert as he nods along to his head coach.

then like a magnetic pull, your eyes find johnathan's—or rather, johnny. he's not looking at sheldon like his table partners, but instead his gaze lingers on you. immediately you feel warm, interlocking eyes and not wanting to look away. the faintest smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, so faint that you're not sure if it's happening or if you're imagining it.

he's stupid hot. like so hot your entire body is on fire. it's dangerous and wrong—it's tempting. not only is he easy on the eyes, but he seems sweet and slightly awkward. which is the perfect combination to have you falling. subtly, you raise an eyebrow at him in silent question.

johnathan blinks, looking away from you. just before you can feel embarrassed about the situation or feel like you read him wrong, a more prominent smile pulls at his lips, eyes flickering back to yours in a fleeting moment.

you're in trouble.

for the entire time you're on the ice, even when you're going through drills and giving words of encouragement as well as discipline, you can't help but find johnathan through the sea of various faces staring at you.

it's truly like a magnetic force, and your body feels drawn to his—even though you've barley talked to the guy. you know interpersonal relationships with the athletes is frowned upon, especially when you're in a coaching position. the hiring staff made sure you were well aware of that before you were hired.

to which you told them it wouldn't be a problem—but now here you are, watching the sweat trickle down johnathan kovacevic's neck as he catches his breath with some other players next to you. and you're almost annoyed at yourself, because you really like this job, and the guys are all so welcoming and kind—well, to your face at least, and that's honestly all you can ask for.

you don't want to risk your dream job for some silly little heat of the moment crush—you can't. but as you get home a few hours and a tour of the arena later, snuggled on the couch with hazelnut beside you and a slice of cold leftover pizza in your hand—you're googling him. you dive into articles and video interviews that when he speaks in them, your belly twirls around in excitement.

but you know you're fucked when you start scrolling through his google pictures, mentally taking note of which ones are your favourites. your cat keeps giving you looks, like she knows you're doing something you shouldn't be.

but you just can't help it—stupid magnetic pull.

the next day comes with a little less stress, and a lot more excitement. you go through your morning routine with steady hands, and a content smile. todays schedule looks a little different than yesterdays, as today you'll actually be put to the test—coaching alongside keefe, colliton, and mcgill during a game.

you head to your local gym before lunch to get in a workout—hopefully burning all lingering nervous thoughts and energy out of your system. after a few hours out of the house, you make your way back home, feeding hazelnut some blueberry salmon treats before hopping into the shower.

as you dress yourself for the game, you don't contemplate anything—you know the exact outfit and makeup style you want and unlike yesterday you're leaving the black eyeliner behind. you're taking the mess up yesterday as a sign, and that you're better off looking professional without the black wing lining your eye. but then again, it's the reason you met johnathan—which, yeah you can't stop thinking about him.

but you can't start thinking about how you can't stop thinking about him or you'll spiral into a panic—which isn't ideal—so you're avoiding that itch in your brain for now. you make sure hazelnut has an appropriate portion of biscuits and water before heading out, driving to the arena.

it goes by in a bit of a blur, with various interviews and introductions that you needed to complete as the new assistant coach of the new jersey devils—which is still so surreal, and the cameras, athletes and smell of the ice rink is even more. soon enough the lights are dimming, and the beginning chords of the national anthem begin.

you try your best to stay straight faced and forward, but keeping your eyes from wandering is something you have no control over. the stands are packed, which is an electric feeling—but even with the buzz of the crowd and the various athletes in front of you, there's only one face you're seeking out.

your gaze lands on him, trailing over the number 8 on the side of his jersey and the tail end of his last name on the back. johnathan looks really good in red, you think—it complements his tan skin and dark hair almost perfectly. speaking of his hair, the curly locks are in a disarray, wet from the water he'd poured on his head during warmups, and frizzy from the towel he ran over his head afterwards.

he takes a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out as he exhales. johnathan shakes his limbs out before resting his chin on the end of his hockey stick. like he can feel your stare, his eyes flicker towards you, and your heart almost stops as your eyes lock.

he squints almost playfully, the smallest grin on his face as the anthem comes to a close. you blush, the overhead lights flickering back to life as the first period begins. johnathan fully turns in your direction, but his eyes find one of the trainers—calling for a fresh set of gloves.

the sleeves of his jersey are rolled up just enough for you to ogle his arms—veins under damp skin that look so tempting…you want to run your tongue along them. your breath hitches just as he catches the new gloves, eyes landing on you once more.

johnathan was well aware of your wandering eyes, not matter how subtle they were. it has him feeling giddy in the best way, and just before he takes his seat, he winks at you—so fast and soft that he's not even sure you've seen it.

but you did, and you force yourself to look away before you get caught. fuck the risk, you need him.

part2: wandering eyes and fluttering hearts

it's seems that the universe has plans for you and johnathan kovacevic—you can't tell if they’re positive or negative yet...but you know it's got something up its sleeve.

not only do you have to fight your urges to pounce on johnathan during work hours—like meetings, practices and games—but it also seems like you're running into him everywhere, and your desires for him are growing stronger every time you spot him out and about. whether he's letting his hand brush against your lower back as a playful greeting in the frozen isle of the grocery store, or seeing you in the lineup of a cafe and tapping his card before you have the chance to pay for yourself—none of it is helping.

johnathan is ridiculously kind, and an even better listener—you've learned such in the now two months you've been with the devils. where as some of the players aren't always friendly, and snap in frustration at you (even if they're not mad at you specifically), johnny was different. it's safe to say you've developed an embarrassing crush on a man who is technically below you on the professional scale. you know it's wrong, and you know you're his superior, but you can't help the way you feel—despite the ethics of it all.

and johnathan doesn't care either—he's been nonstop thinking about you since your wild, makeup smudged eyes met his through your cars window. everything about you is tempting and exhilarating, and he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to keep his hands to himself. the way you seem to look at him with a certain twinkle in your eye, and blush anytime he comes in close to ask you a question, isn't doing him any favours—it seems like most days end now with his large hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, stroking himself to relive the tension you bring him.

the best tension imaginable.

he's not sure what the rules are when it comes to interpersonal relationships within the nhl, but johnathan doesn't care because he'd be willing to never even look at a hockey puck again if it meant he got to kiss your lips even once—he's down bad.

just before your third month of employment with the devils, johnathan cracks. it's late at night, too late for him to still be awake when an early morning practice awaits him—but he can't find himself to sleep yet, not with thoughts of you running through his head.

the bottom of his phone rests against his bare chest as he thumbs through his list of contacts like he's on autopilot. johnathan pauses as he reaches your name, thumb halting on the gray contact icon. just the thought of your pretty lips framing your smile has his dick twitching in his pyjamas pants. johnathan sighs.

all the players had the coaching staffs numbers, so it's not like it was only johnathan who obtained your contact —so reaching out would be that crazy, right? he groans to himself, running his free hand through his tousled dark hair. johnathan only contemplates for a moment longer before opening a text thread. "fuck it."

he readjusts the cellphone in his hands, typing out a message. 'are you awake?'

johnathan clicks his tongue, deleting it before he can hit send. he shouldn't be giving into his temptation like this, especially as an athlete who practices control. it's too late, and probably too risky. he drops his phone to his chest, letting his eyes flicker shut—trying to calm his instincts.

his phone buzzes.

'hey' it's your number staring back at him—and he knows that because he's been memorizing the seven digits for the 25 minutes he's been contemplating texting you. but here you are, lighting up his lock screen with your simple greeting.

across the city, you lay in your own bed—too hot and too awake to focus on anything other than your phone. you gnaw your lip as you await for a reply—if johnathan is even awake to see it. you know there's a morning practice, and the chances of him even noticing your message tonight is slim. just as you plan on turning off your phone, it vibrates with an incoming message.

'is this a you up text?' you can practically hear his rumbly voice through his text, a smirk pulling at his tempting mouth.

you breathe a laugh—one that is tinged with nerves. you were risking a lot by sending that that message, and you're well aware of how much shit you could get in—but what's so wrong about a hello? your skin has been on fire for weeks at the mere thought of johnathan, and you're finally willing to do something about it. no matter what.

you quickly send a reply. 'is that what you're hoping for?'

johnathan re-reads your message three times, and each time his blush deepens, travelling down his taunt chest. 'not telling' he sends back, and before you have a chance to reply, he types another message. 'I was about to text you.'

you gulp gently, a million questions plaguing your mind. 'oh yeah? about what?'

at this point, johnathan knows he's in too deep to start acting coy and secretive now—there's no point of pretending he doesn't want you, no scratch that, need you. 'about having dinner thursday night. my place.' it was the perfect opportunity to spend time with you—thursday night had no games and no weird evening practice or meetings. it was free. for both of you.

you and johnathan both know having dinner somewhere out in jersey was too risky, because anybody could see you and put two and two together. the chances of getting caught by fans or teammates is too high. so him suggesting dinner at his place was making your belly spin—even though it was seemingly the bare minimum (but let's face it ladies, what man even gives the bare minimum anymore).

'if I say yes, can we order in ramen?' you tag a playful emoji on the end to showcase some playfulness. your eyes don't leave the bubbles that move along the bottom of your screen, a soft grin on your face as you wait.

'i'll order anything you want, y/n.'

it's two antagonizing days of anticipation, both you and johnathan doing your absolute best at acting as nonchalant as possible—pretending like you haven't been sending flirty texts and borderline risky snapchats to one another (an app that you both had to download because you're both acting like horny teenagers) for the last two days.

when thursday comes, you're practically buzzing with excitement. after a meeting in the late morning, you get home and take an extra hot and long shower—double washing your hair with an expensive shampoo, exfoliating and shaving every inch of your body.

you lounge around in your housecoat until you have to start getting ready—two hours before you're supposed to head to johnathan’s apartment. you opt for your usual makeup and natural hair, and you decide on your favourite jeans and black long sleeve—keeping it casual, but still cute.

hazelnut blinks at you from her spot on your closed toilet seat, a tiny purr leaving her stripped body. you pause the last flick of your mascara wand, eyeing your cat. "what? should I change?" she blinks again, and you smile like a crazy person. "you're right, I think it's perfect."

your cat chirps like she agrees, and it makes you laugh, coating your lashes in the final coat of your favourite mascara. "okay hazel baby," you start, eyeing your small collection of fragrances. "which perfume gives off i’m sophisticated but also I want to have sex vibes?"

her head cocks to the side, and you sigh. "sometimes I forgot you're not human," you reach out and give her a few affectionate pats. "johnny is going to be so surprised when he finds out I talk to my cat." you mutter to yourself, eyeing the perfumes once more. before you can overthink the decision and ultimately be late for your date, you spray yourself with your usual perfume—praying that it's a scent that johnathan loves.

the drive to his apartment only takes about 15 minutes, the traffic not too much considering it was an uneventful thursday evening. the security guard lets you through the gates after you told him you're a visitor—the sweet old man must've got a heads up from johnathan about your arrival.

you park in the first available spot, unbuckle your seatbelt and send him a message, 'i'm here, should I just come up?'

not even 10 seconds pass before he answers. 'i'm on my way down to get you' you smile as you read johnathan’s text, opening your car door and stepping out into the clean but stuffy parking garage. it's not a minute later you hear him call your name, the sound of his voice sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine. you grin as he approaches, "hey."

his smile mimics yours. "hey yourself." before he can decide against it, he pulls you into a quick, but sweet hug, squeezing your waist affectionately—and you go easily, your grin growing ever larger as your engulfed in his chest. he pulls back, "you look really nice...wow."

you watch as johnathan’s gaze wanders over your body, like he can't decide if he wants to undress you with his eyes or simply just admire you clothed. it has your belly swooping, anticipation tingling your body. "thanks, johnny." you hum lowly, taking the time to let your own gaze wander him.

johnathan looks so handsome—a crisp black shirt, and light wash jeans wrapping around his large thighs so deliciously. much to your embarrassment (or maybe your liking), he catches your stare, and a deep smile settles on his face at you clearly checking him out. "let's go upstairs."

you nod, slightly dazed and already turned on, letting him slide his fingers between yours and pull you in the direction of the elevator. the tension between you is undeniable, and the flirtatious glances you keep giving each other on the ride up to his floor are almost embarrassing. you're both so infatuated with one another, and you haven't even been close to kissing yet.

johnathan opens his apartment door, and the smell of soy sauce and steamed vegetables hit you—your stomach lowly rumbles and your mouth begins watering at the thought of food. he gestures for you to enter first, and he follows behind, shutting the door with a soft click. "the food was early, i've been keeping it warm in the oven—hope that's okay."

his apartment is really nice, with dark furniture and exposed brick. it's definitely a man cave, but not in a single, frat boy kind of way—but a sophisticated, busy manly way. you run your fingers over a dark green throw hanging over the back of the leather couch, a small playful grin pulling at your lips as you shoot him a look over your shoulder. "you know johnny, you're not supposed to leave the oven unattended."

he's in the kitchen, and because the apartment is mostly open concept—minus the bedroom—you can see him perfectly. johnathan opens the oven door, a breathy laugh leaving him as he takes out the various takeout containers. it's definitely not healthy for a professional athlete to be eating salty, delicious japanese cuisine, and if you were a meal specialist, you'd be frowning. but you're not! so you're not complaining.

"guess im just a risk taker." he hums, placing some of the ramen broth next to the cooked broccoli container—popping the lids off both.

you walk towards the island, leaning against the counter top to watch him work. you practically ogle his body as it moves—muscles shifting and contracting under his shirt so temptingly. you remove the lid off the spring bean take out container, a small grin on your face. "i'm hoping so ."

all the food is on the counter now, and that leaves johnathan to grab some dishes for the both of you—opening the cupboard beside the microwave and grabbing two sloped bowls and match plates. "are you always so confident?" he questions, placing them on the counter in front of you. he pulls open one of the drawers on his side of the island, pulling out two of each utensil. "like I don't know, you always seem to know exactly what to say...it's hot."

you blush, his compliment laying heavy on your heart. you take one of the bowls, loading some of the vegetable mix into it. "no actually, my confidence is mostly fake." he hums in surprise, spooning some beans into his bowl. you continue, "like i'm confident in my job, but when it comes to things like this—like you—I gotta fake it."

johnathan’s brows furrow while he contemplates which meat he wants in his ramen. "what?! like me? what does that mean?" he shoots you an amused look, before inevitably choosing beef and adding it into his bowl.

you laugh once, rounding the island to better reach the small styrofoam container of green onion. "yeah, I don't know you make me...feel things."

"what kind of things?" he questions lowly, the sound making your head spin. johnathan knows damn well what you're insinuating, and as soon as you say the words out loud, he may pounce.

you put some liquid into your bowl, completing the ramen bowl. you break apart one of the many pairs of chopsticks—there's enough food on the island to feed the entire team and some, so the twenty odd pairs of chopsticks don't come as a surprise. you twirl the utensils through the coil noodles, "i'll tell you later."

johnny barks a laugh, a nod following suit. "okay, fine." he watches as you bring the noodles to your mouth immediately, and he stops adding broth to his bowl. "just be careful cause it'll be really hot-"

his warning is cut short as you jump, your mouth hung open as you attempt to fan the hot food in—so hot that the steam is pouring from you like a dragon. "fuck, oh my god." you curse through the mouthful of burning noodles. you can't believe you didn't think to give it a minute before shoving the food in your mouth, and now it's so hot that you can't even chew the food without pain. you're left to only fan yourself and wait.

johnathan abandon’s his bowl on the counter, walking towards you in two quick strides. a curse falls from his mouth, "okay, hold still." he instructs you firmly, but yet softly—large hands enveloping your head as he holds your face. slowly, as if to not startle you, johnathan begins blowing into your mouth, his breath coming in fast bursts that help cool the food in your mouth.

he's so close to you and his touch is so gentle that you can't do anything but blink at him dreamily, watching as he cools the food in your mouth like it's nothing. a moment passes, and his blowing stops. "better?" johnathan questions, pulling back just enough to gauge your reaction.

you nod, slowly starting to chew the significantly less boiling hot noodles in your mouth. he smiles gently, and drops his hands from your face almost reluctantly—already he misses the warmth of your skin under his touch.

thankfully the rest of dinner goes smoothly, and you blow on every single bite loudly before attempting to put it past your lips—which has johnathan laughing in amusement, sometimes even joining in on cooling your food, which should not be so hot, but it is. you're almost tempted to burn your mouth again just so he will hold you and blow into your mouth once more.

you're not even surprised at how well you and johnathan vibe and communicate—somehow it just all makes sense, and that really doesn't help the crush you have for him. after finishing your two bowls of ramen and johnathan’s three, you both clean up, easy chatter flowing between you. it's refreshing, and feels so right—you almost forget that it's wrong. 

soon enough you find yourselves in his living space, sitting on the shaggy rug you claimed you needed to feel—your backs resting on the worn leather couch. you've got your knees bent towards your chest, balancing a wine glass between your two fingers and the top of your knee cap—looking over at johnathan as he laughs at the tail end of your story.

"okay wait," he smiles, eyes twinkling with the upmost amusement. "so your best friend just threw them on his lawn?" he questions, searching for confirmation that, yes, he did hear you correctly. he shifts, turning himself even further in your direction—so close that you can feel the heat of him against your side.

you nod, your own smile softly gracing your face. "yup, 20 boxes of instant mashed potatoes that turned into mush during the rainfall." he laughs once more, finding the story about your best friend and her revenge plan against her ex amusing.

"oh wow, remind me to never mess with her." johnathan teases, taking a sip of his mulberry wine. you follow suit, bringing the thin rim up to your lips and taking a gulp—the flavours spicing your tongue just the way you like. you've always had a hard time turning down wine, especially when a guy who looks like johnathan kovacevic is the one offering it. worse case, you'll just stay the night.

his eyes flicker with something you can't decipher, swallowing his sip of alcohol as he eyes you. "so what about you?"

you swallow, brows pulling in question. "what about me?"

"ever instant mash potato a guys lawn?" he asks with a tempting, playful smirk.

you laugh, placing your now empty wine glass on the rustic, chest style coffee table—the sound a gentle clink in the otherwise quiet apartment. you shake your head, "no, i'd be too scared of getting caught."

he purses his lips softly, brows coming together to create a small indent above his nose. johnathan hums quietly—the sound so charming you almost pass out. "I think you're braver than you think, y/n."

oh, you think—breath catching in your throat. johnathan’s eyes on you are too much, but somehow not enough. you can't decide where to look, your eyes darting all over his face to try and drink in as much of him as possible.

johnathan's breathing changes, his lungs working overtime like he can't quite catch his breath—the way you're looking at him having him feel nothing but breathless. his tongue swipes along his bottom lip, gaze finding your plump, wine stained lips.

he blinks, turning away to place his wineglass next to yours—there's a sip left in his, but he doesn't care to finish it. "you should probably go," johnathan mumbles, eyes finding your lips once more. "otherwise i'll end up doing something stupid like kissing you or..." he slowly trails off, taking a deep breath before he meets your wide, glossy eyes.

"or what?" you prompt, tone all hopeful and quiet.

johnathan hums deeply, the sound shooting signals straight down to your core—you clench your legs together to soothe the ache you've been feeling since you got here. he licks his lip again, slow and deliberate. "...or undressing you."

you almost whine—it's pathetic and johnathan finds it so unbelievably hot. you flush even deeper than the shade the wine has left you, and you slowly bring your lip into your mouth, nibbling on the edge. "maybe I want you to kiss me...and undress me."

he practically moans. "y/n...you can't say that unless you mean it." his words are almost like a warning—an out of the tension building between you. johnathan is giving you the opportunity to walk away, and not break the rules because of him—no matter how bad he wants you to. johnathan's fingers twitch as he desperately tries to keep to himself, watching you through half lidded eyes as he waits your response.

but you don't want an out—you want him. slowly, you shake your head, legs sliding down and away from your torso. the stretch is nice, but it does no favours for your throbbing core. "I wouldn't unless I did." you whisper, pushing up and onto your knees. gently, but confidently, you swing your leg over his lap and sit on him. johnathan's jaw goes slack, watching through his lustful gaze as you move.

he can't take it anymore—he needs to get his hands on you. johnathan's palms slide up the sides of your thighs, squeezing the flesh through your jeans. subconsciously you begin moving your hips, leisurely grinding your clothed core over his. your breath hitches, forehead resting against his. "I need you, johnny."

that's all it takes for johnathan to attach your lips together, kissing you like he's been wanting to since he first saw you. it's like your mouths are made for one another, perfectly moving and caressing and sliding around one another's like you've been doing it for years.

his hands slide to cup your ass, giving you a firm squeeze before he helps grind you over his clothed core—not once stopping the bruising, messy kiss you're engaged in. his lips feel so good it hurts, and if you were to die in that moment you wouldn't be upset. your hands card through his thick strands of hair, scratching his scalp in a way that his him sighing into your kiss.

suddenly, johnathan pulls away, leaving you to whine in disappointment. his glazed over eyes flicker open at the same time yours do—eyes locking. "i've been dreaming about this—about you." he says through heavy breathing, fingers flexing against your lower back.

"you have?" you ask through a moan, your covered clit perfectly sliding over his hardening length.

he nods, leaning in and pressing a hot kiss against your jawline. just when you think he'll stop, he moves farther down, littering kisses against the line of your jaw until he reaches your ear. "I want to please you." johnathan whispers before nipping at your lobe.

you sigh, pawing at the hem on his shirt. "please." you lift the item of clothing completely off, exposing the expanse of tan, defined muscles that you've only ever had glimpses of before this moment. you jaw goes slack, fingers absentmindedly racking down his pecks and abs. "oh my god, you're so hot."

he laughs once before kissing your lips firmly—a wordless thank you. johnathan's hands slip underneath your shirt, dragging it up and off your body like its second nature—leaving you in your polka dot bra. "shit, been dreaming of these too." he mutters, palming your tits. "you've been driving me crazy for weeks with these tits, baby."

all you can manage is a moan, hips moving on their own accord as you chase the tension building in your core. a whispered plea leaves you once again, and it has johnathan gripping your backside tightly and sifting you onto your back, skin melting into the soft, shaggy rug.

you exhale shakily, fingers fisting the carpet right next to your head as johnathan begins trailing kisses down your sternum, and further towards your belly button. "that feels good." you say, hips twitching under torso.

johnathan lifts his head, eyes twinkling with playfulness as he locks his gaze on your face. "can I taste you?" you nod eagerly, and his smirk shows once again—one of his hands fiddling with your button until it pops open. johnathan sits back on his heels, and you shiver at the lack of his body heat on top of you—but as he begins sliding your jeans down, exposing your damp paintes, you quickly forget about anything but that.

he shutters, licking along his lips as he locks in on your skimpy underwear. you bite onto your bottom lip, but your smirk isn't even hidden by that. "I need you so bad, johnny." the sight of your almost shy grin has him faltering, fingers itching to get you naked—and he does, hooking his fingers through your underwear and pulling them away from your wet core.

johnathan can't wait any longer, laying flat so his face is mere inches away from your throbbing pussy—licking his lips at the sight of your arousal pooling and slowly dripping onto his rug. "fuck, you're soaking wet for me, baby."

your hips jump upwards, desperate for some friction. you don't think you've ever been this turned on in your entire life, and for god sakes all you've done is a little amateur dry humping. johnathan's words further rile you up, and you can't help but whine out like a cat in heat.

"that noise," he breathes, spreading your legs even further apart with his large hands. "keep making it." johnathan doesn't give you a chance to answer before he's licking a firm strip up your folds, spreading your arousal with his tongue.

"oh...fuck." you curse, eyes fluttering with bliss and pleasure, johnathan repeating his movements in a lapid, expert manner. his long fingers flex on your thighs, digging into your flesh to continue holding you open—giving him the most range on pleasing you.

he sucks your clit into his mouth before swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud—a movement that has you approaching your peak quicker than expected. you breath hitches, nails digging into the rug. "oh, fuck i'm close."

johnathan moans against your clit before dipping back to your entrance, thrusting his tongue into your sopping hole—a squelching noise echoing through the room. he doesn't let up, and it has you reaching your peak, a frantic 'i'm cumming' leaving you in a hurry as your walls spasm on his tongue.

your ride our your orgasm while johnathan licks against your clit lazily, sending jitters through your body. it's ethereal, and so fucking good—you can't decide if you want to scream or sob. your eyes blink open, finding him hovering over you once more. "you okay?"

you hum blissfully, hands running over johnathan's arms and unapologetically squeezing and feeling his biceps. "better than okay." you watch him smirk briefly, his fingers tilting your chin up in an affectionate way before sliding back and caressing your jaw. and like the sex god he apparently is, his thumb parts your lips, rubbing along the surface before leaning in and kissing you.

you could be kissing for only 2 minutes, or it could be 20–time has completely slipped away from both you and johnathan as your lips move along one another. you can feel his hard length through his jeans, pressing against your thigh like a rock—you can also feel your own arousal building back up, dripping down your ass like you're some pornstar.

you disconnect your lips, pulling back just enough to talk. "I want you to fuck me." reaching towards his belt, you begin fiddling with the buckle, the metal clinking together as you unfasten it.

he kisses the corner of your mouth. "I must be dreaming."

you smile, tugging his zipper down. "you're not." johnathan assists you the rest of the way, briefly standing so he's able to completely rid of his jeans. just before he tugs his boxers down, he curses lightly—smile never wavering. "hold on, baby. need a condom."

you get the pleasure of watching him jog into his bathroom in the retrieval of protection—his ass looking mouthwatering under his fitted black briefs. without even thinking logically, your hands slide down your body until you're finding your wet folds, gathering your arousal and bringing it to your clit—circling the bundle slowly.

johnathan finds you like that, condom wrapper half torn in his hands. "you can't do that baby," he groans, "i'm already dying here."

you giggle, the sound broken by a moan at a powerful circle around yourself. your breath hitches, eyeing his almost completely naked body like you're an animal. "take your underwear off, johnny."

he's already in the process of removing the last article of clothing on himself as you ask, releasing his angry, heavy cock from the restraints of his briefs. the sight of him—the sheer size of him—has you gasping. johnathan drops back down between your legs, pulling the condom over his aching length.

you help guide him to your entrance, breathless as his tip brushes your slick folds. johnathan's eyes find yours, "you sure?"

too pent up to speak, you nod—eyes filled with nothing but need and aching, desperate to finally feel all of johnathan. and with that, he eases his entire length into you, stretching you perfectly—your walls molding around him like you're made for him. you let out a choked whine, watching his cock disappear into you. "oh fuck."

he bottoms out, balls resting against your ass—twitching as your gummy walls flutter over him. you can feel him in your stomach he's so deep and long—it feels like he's everywhere. "god, you feel so fucking good." johnathan babbles, already drunk on your pussy. he can't wait a moment longer, and begins thrusting, sliding in and out of your pussy easily due to your leaking arousal.

you're both so horny and worked up and only a few minutes of deep, passionate thrusts, messy kisses and hushed affirmations, that you're both growing close to your respective releases. you're whining like it's the only thing you know how to do, wrapping your thighs around johnathan's torso and he ruts into your hole—stabilizing yourself as best you can. it's a bit difficult when you feel like jello, but it's so good that you're not even caring.

"I can—oh fuck—can feel you fluttering baby, you gunna cum?" he breathes, the rhythm of his thrusts begin to falter as he nears his first orgasm of the evening. but he holds on, focusing on your spasming hole and pleasure pulled face.

you nod, jaw slack. "so close."

johnathan pushes even deeper into your pussy, which you didn’t think was possible, but he does it—tip kissing your cervix with every delicious rut into you. his hand finds yours, and he interlocks your fingers together—grounding not only himself but you to the moment.

"please don’t stop," you mewl desperately, grip tightening around his warm hand as you find the tipping point of your orgasm. "i'm cumming." and you do, walls clamping down on his cock as your reach another toe curling release.

johnathan's brows furrow in concentration as he focuses on your orgasming pussy, groaning as he thrusts into you three unrhythmic times. "holy shit, me too, fuck." his seed shoot into the latex, hot spurts of cum filling the condom wrapped around him.

you smile at the feeling, pressing a firm kiss against the front of johnathan's strong shoulder—nipping his skin with your teeth playfully.

he grins, still nestled in your warmth. "stay with me tonight."

you don't need to be asked twice, and soon enough you're being ushered into the spacious shower of johathan's apartment—the two of you washing one another in the most intimate, soft way. you're completely ruined for anyone else, and now you'll never be able to stay away from johnathan. the way he looks at you, dressing you in his clothes for bed while you're hair is still wet and face flushed—it's something you'll never forget.

you fuck again in bed, riding him slowly as breathy moans leave you both. you're not even fully naked this time, johnathan's college shirt pulled up and over your hips as he holds onto your love handles, helping you slide up and down his length. you both fall asleep in a breathless, tangled embrace—soft conversation and adorning smiles shared before you both let your eyes flutter closed.

part3: kiss it better

from that moment on you're pretty positive you're falling for johnathan kovacevic. the morning after your date, you both wake up frantically, afternoon practice sneaking up on you. just before you left, all tangled mess of hair and mascara stained eyes, johnathan grabbed your wrist gently, tugging you close to him. "can we do this again? I don't just mean the sex..I mean the dating and talking and everything in between."

to which you responded with, "yes please."

for the next few months you and johnathan find yourselves in a very secret relationship. you're going on dates late after games, lounging in his apartment or your apartment until you both fall asleep. hazelnut approves, and you think she likes your boyfriend more than she likes you. johnathan is always sending you flowers, and ordering you food when you're cranky—which obviously makes you emotional and clingy. you watch each other's favourite movies, and you're the queen of stealing his clothes. and oh my god the sex.

johnathan is like ridiculously good when it comes to pleasing you—kissing, sucking, licking and pounding all the right spots until you're on the verge of tears. sex with him is addicting, you don't think you had as much intercourse since like...ever—not even when you were a horny driven teenager.

johnathan will never get tired of your flushed skin and pulled face—jaw fallen slack while you whisper johnny over and over like a prayer. he is as obsessed with you as you are with him—if not more so. he's only had two serious girlfriends between meaningless hookups in his lifetime, and neither of them felt like this.

it has the both of you getting a little...risky, to say the least. your gazes linger on one another for just a second too long while you're at work, johnathan stands close while in huddles, and his fingers brush the back of your hand in passing almost every time—it's dangerous but neither of you can help it.

2 months into your forbidden romance, you're both dressing (in separate homes, unfortunately) for the new jersey devils charity gala—an event where everyone dressed in beautiful gowns and/or sharp suits to mingle, participate in raffles and raise money for charities.

johnathan was expecting you to look phenomenal based on the mere fact that you always do, but when you walked into the decorated rink, covered in a soft cream silk dress that dipped low down your back—leaving little to the imagination—he just about ripped it off you right in the middle of the bustling room.

you knew you were in trouble by the way your boyfriends gaze followed you throughout the first hour of the evening, tongue swiping his bottom lip or biting it in an attempt to not run over to you and destroy you. it also doesn't help that you want him to, god damn you feel like you're in heat looking at johnathan—standing with staff and teammates in a perfectly tailored suit, sipping some champagne like a slut.

so from across the room when he gestures for you to follow him, you listen easily. it's only a few antagonizing minutes later when your boyfriend is pulling you into a coat closet, lips finding yours instantly in a heated exchange.

"you look fucking edible." johnathan groans against your mouth, hands running over your body and squeezing your flesh through the silky dress. he nips at your jaw, igniting breathless laughter from your heaving chest.

you drag his face back to yours, pressing your lips to his once again. the kiss isn't only hot, but it's risky, especially in the closet that holds all the jackets and personable teams of team and staff members. but as johnathan drags your dress up one leg, slipping his hand underneath the cream silk—your mind goes blank. two long, strong fingers brush your exposed core, spreading the sticky wetness that's pooling between your folds.

he curses lowly, the tip of his middle finger prodding your entrance—but then, the door handle rattles, curtis lazar's voice growing louder as he begins opening the door. you and johnathan pull apart, jumping to opposite sides of the room and pretending to look busy—stifling through various coats and jackets.

thankfully, curtis saw nothing and is to aloof to the tension lingering between his teammate and assistant coach. from that moment, you and johnathan both know you need to get a grip, and if you're not careful, your reputation and relationship will be destroyed.

so with that in mind, you both make sure while you're at work, you're strangers. johnathan doesn't look at you, and you don't let your gaze linger on his. and this crisp tuesday evening, surrounded by thousands of fans packed into the prudential center, it'll be no different. you're his coach, and johnathan is strictly a player to you. period.

everything is normal—how it should be, really. well, everything expect the lingering turning in your stomach and heat warming your skin uncomfortably. you've not been feeling the best today, and there's been a constant queasy feeling in your belly since you got out of bed.

you've done your best to try and ignore it, brush it under the rug until it goes away—but it's proving to be persistent, and as the hours tick by your symptoms are getting worse. you know you probably should've called in, but you didn't—and now your feeling dizzy watching the players skate past the bench.

a deep exhale leaves your lungs, eyes darting to the foam covered floor beneath your feet. the crowd has your head pounding and ears ringing—this isn’t good. your stomach feels like a shaky roller coaster on the verge of turning upside down and ruining your day.

the lights are impossibly bright as you look back up, and that's when you know something is wrong. weakly and with dwindling vision, you shuffle closer to sheldon, subtly nudging his side. "I think i'm going to be sick."

his brows raise, turning his full attention to you—keeping his face neutral as to not raise suspicion. "you've been pale since you walked in here—please, go get checked out. i'm getting worried, and I don't need us to be distracted."

you attempt to laugh, but it comes across as a painfully hushed groan. sheldon gently guides you in the direction of the hallway, and into the arms of a medical staff member. after you tell ronald, said staff, what's going on he's shuffling you down the hall and to the direction of the medical room.

you don't make it inside before your knees give out, falling to the floor as you go unconscious.

johnathan skates back to his bench after a 1:30 shift, chest heaving as he desperately fights for air. he throws one gangly leg over the boards, followed by the other—but he freezes as he notices you're no longer present.

his brows furrow in a mixture of confusion and worry. you were there when he left the bench, and you seemed fine—a little pale and quiet but still ordering the team around like the confident, sexy woman you are. but now you're missing. johnathan tries not to show emotion on his face, but he can't help but to look over his shoulder every few minutes to see if you've returned.

by the time first intermission begins, you're still nowhere in sight. johnathan is glad nico brings attention to your sudden absence after keefe's speech, because johnathan is dying and anxious about not knowing your whereabouts.

"coach y/l/n left to get checked out by medical because she wasn't feeling good. i'm not sure of her condition but I understand she will not be coming back tonight."

sheldon's words have johnathan's stomach dropping down to his ass. before he has to head back out to the ice, he shoots you a quick text—letting you know that he'll be at yours after the game.

the rest of the game goes by in a flurry of anxious waves and painfully slow minutes. he can't get out of his gear quick enough, speeding through a shower so he's able to quicker get on the road—get home to his girl.

johnathan definitely breaks a few laws on the way to your place, but he can't help it—he knows nothing about your state, only the brief text of acknowledgment you sent him in response, and he’s started to get really fucking worried.

the doors unlocked, and johnathan kicks his dress shoes off beside one of hazelnuts feathery toys, walking into your silent apartment. he finds you on the couch, still in your work clothes. the door shutting had your eyes blinking open, vision slowly focusing just as your boyfriend kneels in front of you.

"hey baby," he mumbles, running his hands over your sweaty forehead. "what's wrong my girl?" his eyes flicker over your dewy, pale skin, a frown pulling on his face at the sight of your obvious discomfort and exhaustion.

your cat perks up at the sound of his voice, and immediately jumps off the back of the couch to run against johnathan's legs. you pout, "i've been feeling sick all day, and it just got worse. I didn't even make it to the medical room before passing out, johnny." tears begin gathering in your eyes, making clear vision even more impossible—you feel awful. "it was really scary."

instantly he's leaning down to kiss your head. "i'm sorry baby. did they give you some meds?" he asks against your hair.

you hum—the sound strained. "yeah. they're making me tired."

he fusses over you for a few moments longer, pressing comforting kisses to your damp face—but he doesn't want you to be in uncomfortable clothes for any longer. johnathan strips you of your clothes and quickly changes you into your favourite sweats before slipping behind you on the couch—pulling you into his chest.

you're kind of out of it and all you can really register is your boyfriends dark button up under your cheek, his hand rubbing your back and the sound of sex and the city playing from your tv. it's so numbing and relaxing that it quickly has you falling back to sleep, soft snores passing through your dry lips.

you wake up the next morning in your bed, eyes slowly focusing as you catch the sight of johnathan pulling his suit pants back on in your bedroom—the morning sun streaming the the cracks of your curtains.

"hey," you start, voice croaky. "what's going on?"

your boyfriend whips around in your direction, shoving one arm through his dress shirt. "hey, sorry I didn't want to wake you up." he rounds the mess of blankets half off the bed, kissing your head. "how was your sleep?"

"I don't even remember you getting here yesterday." you admit sheepishly, rubbing the sleep out of your eye. "I was so fucked up, god."

"it's okay," johnathan reassures you sweetly, buttoning up his shirt. "you really had me worried—you looked so sick."

you cough, a sickly dry sound that is a rough reminder of the illness lingering your body. but as you eye your boyfriend, seemingly getting ready for morning practice, has all thoughts of sickness leaving you—replaced with panic. "oh my god, i'm going to be late for practice."

you try and get out of bed, but johnathan is quicker—gently pushing you back to the pillows. "you're not going—I dealt with it all through your phone, okay. and I must say, keefe was rather relieved that you're taking the day."

"oh," you hum with a small grin, body naturally melting into your bed. "okay. you going now?"

johnathan nods. "yeah. gotta stop at home and change quick, but i'll be back later." he tosses last nights suit jacket over his shoulder, "need anything brought back?"

you smile, "just you."

he smirks all slow and syrupy down at you, cupping your cheek with his warm palm. "okay baby—can I have a kiss?"

you slap your hand over your lips—which are rather crusty and has you cringing. "I don't want to get you sick." you say, words muffled against your palm.

johnathan brows pull tightly, his smirk not letting up. "I don't care baby." his words have you faltering, dropping your hand and puckering your mouth for a kiss—which he happily obliges in giving you.

later while he's getting changed, pulling his shin pads on, he hears jack asks about your whereabouts beside him. johnathan isn't sure if he's just speaking out loud, or asking him directly—but he turns his full attention to the middle hughes brother. "she called in sick today."

jack kind of makes a curious face, one that says and how would you know that?

and the following day when johnathan doesn't come to the rink because he's sick...jack has the smallest inkling that he may know why the defence man knew about you're whereabouts.

part4: you’re made for me

you think your least favourite part about being on the road is the lonely feeling you get lying in an empty hotel room—left with only your thoughts and the hum of the heating unit.

it doesn't help that johnathan is in the same hotel…on the floor below you, and you can't even see him. you're not long back from the game, a win nonetheless, and the vegas night life is still buzzing in the street below. you knew some of the guys would be heading out for a few hours to enjoy the casinos—but you heard your boyfriend decline curtis' invitation.

so you know he's in his room—but wether his roommate is with him is unbeknownst to you. you miss him, and are in desperate need of hearing his voice. you hum, grabbing your phone off the charger beside you—thumbing your screen until his contact comes up.

you've got him saved under the soccer ball emoji—ever since you two started getting serious, you knew that having johnathan saved as his name was risky, especially when he had a habit of sending you toe-curling texts. and the same goes for your name on his phone, and instead of the previous use of your full name, he's replaced it with the name of your favourite tv show character.

hey, you send. are you alone?

a beat passes and then your phone begins to ring, the soccer ball emoji filling your screen as johnathan calls you. your grin, biting your lip as you slide over the answer button.

you lift your phone to your ear, excitement bubbling and settling deep in your belly.

"i'm alone." johnathan answers lowly, the slow smirk evident through his voice.

you sigh softly. "didn't want to go out tonight? celebrate the win? mr. two point night." your voice is playful, and kind of sexy—it has him already palming himself through his sweatpants.

a low groan leaves him, the sound leaving you flushed in the other line. you already can tell the turn this conversation is going to take, and you're not opposed to it one bit. he laughs, the sound doing a million things to you and your needy clit. "got those points for you, baby."

"whatever," you grin, hand slipping under your loose pyjamas shirt, resting on your lower belly—absentmindedly tickling just below your belly button.

"you okay?" this question is more serious, because above all else, johnathan cares for you, and if you're texting him, he wants to make sure nothing is wrong before he asks to see your boobs like a schoolboy.

you nod, and then remember he can't see you. "yeah, just miss you." you admit shamelessly, fingers dipping below the band of your sleep shorts. your breath hitches as the pads of your fingers brush over your folds, slipping through the wet mess that's been building since you picked up the phone.

the sound has johnathan groaning again, his own hand slipping under his sweatpants and finding his now rock hard and aching cock. he’s been thinking about this moment since he say your game day skirt—hugging your ass delightfully. he squeezes the base, igniting another strangled moan from his chest. "yeah?"

you hum lowly, teasing your entrance with your middle finger before trailing back to your bundle of nerves, circling yourself slowly. "I wish you were here."

a small curse leaves his lips. "what would you want me to do...if I was in your room right now?" johnathan questions, his large hand sliding up the entirety of his length, fisting the tip three times before coming back down to the base.

you inhale sharply, but you're breathless regardless. your thighs tighten around your slow moving hand, trapping yourself—your body reacting to your boyfriends words instinctively and leaving you overwhelmed already.

"don't be shy," he grins, squeezing himself. "i'm so fucking hard, baby—your voice is so sexy."

you whine helplessly, johnathan’s words pushing you into a flaming pit of lava—igniting your body in molten flames. "I'd want you to tease me, run your fingers over my soaked shorts until i'm begging you for more." you admit, cheeks flushing even deeper at your dirty words.

there's something so weird about phone sex, but with johnathan's breathing against your ear, and the throbbing between your legs, you're starting to feel very different about the idea. it’s exciting and so fucking hot—mostly because of your sexy boyfriend on the other line, prompting you.

he curses, pulling himself out of his sweatpants so that his cock is standing fully erect. he hisses at the air touching his sensitive skin, running the pad of his thumb over his leaking slit. "holy—fuck me—and then what baby?

"and then..." your breath hitches as you slip your middle finger into your wet entrance, your throbbing pussy sucking you in, down to your knuckle. "then i'd take you out of your pants, and lick up your shaft—slowly—before sucking the head of your cock just the way you like."

"i'm gunna facetime you, okay?"

your stomach drops in excitement. "okay." you slip out of yourself before completely removing your shorts, just as the incoming facetime lights up your phone. you answer it giddy, gnawing on your lip as johnathan's face fills your screen.

he smirks, eyeing your plump pink lips and rosy cheeks—the lust clear in your gaze. "you look so fucking pretty."

your smile grows, and even the way your teeth enclose around your bottom lip can't hide the fact. "johnny," you hum slowly, legs falling open to reveal your core to the empty hotel room. "I need to cum so bad."

he licks along his bottom lip. "set the phone up so I can see."

your vagina throbs pathetically, grabbing a pillow before leaning forward and resting your phone against it—the angle giving johnathan the perfect view of your glistening pussy, the outline of your perky nipples under your shirt and flushed face. he groans, stroking himself as he gets off the bed and moves towards the desk.

johnathan props his phone against the lamp, angling the camera so you're able to see his cock. "slip your pretty fingers in that pussy, baby. wanna see you fuck yourself like I would."

he watches your chest heave as you attempt to catch your breath, hand slipping down your covered stomach and back down through your soaking folds. with a moan, you ease your middle finger and ring finger in your entrance.

"fuck." you whine, head falling back as you begin moving your fingers shallowly, not quite thrusting into yourself, but not staying still either. the perfect amount of stimulation that has your toes curling.

johnathan's jaw goes slack at the sight of you and your hand—a ring of creamy arousal pooling at the base of your knuckles before dripping onto the bed. it's embarrassing how close he is to cumming, fucking his hand while he pretends it's your gooey walls enveloping him instead. "that feel good?" he asks, voice husky. "you're so sexy."

you lift your head, lips parted as breathless sighs leave you. "feels good—wish it was your fingers." a high-pitched whine bubbles from your throat, the palm of your hand rubbing against your clit perfectly. through lidded eyes, you watch johnathan. his abs clench as he fists himself, the smallest drop of pre-cum trialing down the underside of his delicious cock.

you gasp, orgasm hitting you in a white hot surprise, leaving you fluttering around your hand as your release drips off your fingers.

the sight has johnathan following suit, ropes of hot cum shooting from his head as his eyes train on your fluttering pussy and blissed out face.

a beat passes, both of your still working on coming down from your high and catching your breath. johnathan smirks all lazily at you through the screen. "I'm gonna fuck you so good once we get home, yeah?"

his promise has your core jumping all over again, and if johnathan has to fist his hand once more in the shower before bed—that's nobodies business expect yours (because obviously he sends you videos on snapchat).

thankfully the road trip is only two more days, and you get your hands on your boyfriend as soon as you're back in the enclosed walls of his apartment.

a few weeks pass since then, a whirlwind of games and practices that leave you holding your breath and clenching your thighs—you'll never get over how handsome johnathan looks all sweaty and damp, and it never fails in sending butterflies straight down to your pussy.

it seems like weeks until you get a free evening, but eventually it comes, and you take the opportunity for an at home date night—realistically the only ones you can have. johnathan cooks you mouthwatering pasta, and you get to watch him work over the stove from the kitchen island—checking out his back muscles over the rim of your wine glass.

anytime he catches you doing so, he pauses to lean over the island and give you a heart stopping kiss. it's romantic, and you think you may love him.

you eat your food next to one another on the couch, your feet tucked under his thigh while you watch she's all that. johnathan is the kind of boyfriend you dreamed of having since you were little—kind, compassionate, sexy, funny and a little awkward (plus a sex god, but 6 year old didn't know about that).

soon enough your empty bowls are abandoned, and you’re on his lap while your mouths move together. just before anything starts to escalate—johnathan's hands fiddling with your bra—a knock on the door pulls you apart.

"kovy?" an all too familiar voice calls on the other side of the door. "we know you're home. saw your car." we? as in plural? as in there's multiple of his teammates on the other side of the door?

you go stiff on johnathan's lap. "is that curtis?" you question wildly, words barley above a whisper.

he squeezes the flesh of your hips, nodding once. "and brett and erik." johnathan admits through his teeth. "i forgot they wanted me to come out tonight—someone's birthday."

one of them knocks again. "open up you little shit." the voice who sounds like brett laughs, sounding already a few drinks in.

"oh my god," you hiss, getting off johnathan's lap, pulling your discarded hoodie over your head. "oh my fucking god."

johnathan moves quickly, taking your empty bowls to the sink. "one second!" he calls in their direction, running a hand through his messy hair after wetting the dishes.

"are you fucking naked or something?" erik questions, leaning against the wall with an amused expression.

you hear curtis snicker. "he's probably jerking off."

your boyfriend looks at you, eyes full of guilt. "i'm so sorry baby, I totally forgot." he grabs your arms firmly, keeping your attention on him. "i'll get rid of them, okay? I promise."

you look almost scared—blinking up at him like everything is falling apart before your eyes. after all, you're a door away from being caught. "okay."

he nods, kissing the side of your pouting lips before guiding you to his bedroom. "just stay in here, okay? and if you hear me say watermelon, jump into the closet."

if you weren't so anxious you'd probably laugh. but obviously you don't laugh, sitting on the soft mattress as johnathan gives you one more hurried look, shutting his bedroom door with a soft click.

he quickly makes his way to the front door, pulling it open to reveal his three teammates—all of them with splitting grins on their faces. "we've been texting you, man! you forget about us?" brett grins, slapping johnathan's shoulder as the three of them walk into his apartment.

he chuckles awkwardly. "yeah, sorry—meant to text you but i'm not feeling up to going out tonight."

"boooooo," curtis drags out loudly, spinning on one of the bar stools like it's a carnival ride. "boring."

erik picks up the wine glass you left on the coffee table, a visible print of lipgloss on the rim. "you got a girl here, johnny?"

"no." he says all too quickly, face pale and red all at once. "I mean, not anymore. she left."

brett smirks, grabbing the glass out of erik's grip. he inspects the mark closer, that shit eating grin never leaving his face. "you know who wears lipgloss like this? coach y/l/n."

on the other side of the bedroom door, you feel like you're going to faint. you press your ear further against the wood, listening in.

the barstool squeaks under curtis' weight, a mixture of a disgruntled groan and laugh leaving him. "why do you know what kind of lipstick our coach wears? fucking weirdo." much to johnathan's delight, curtis' response has all three boys moving on from the marking on the wine glass. which, thank god because he had no clue how to respond to that observation.

erik eyes the ending scene of she's all that, a knowing grin on his face. "so if she's gone, you're gunna come out with us, right?"

"not really feeling it." johnathan reiterates with a shrug, subtly grabbing your keys off the counter and tucking them into his pocket.

brett groans like a naughty kid, sluggishly making his way back to the door. "fine—we'll let you beat off in peace." the other two follow suit, sending johnathan snarky little grins as they leave.

he rolls his eyes, a tiny grin pulling at his lips. "whatever—have fun." as soon as johnathan can't hear his teammates loud voices anymore, he's shutting the door and flicking the lock. he bounds back to the bedroom, and you pull open the threshold before he has the chance—your eyes wide with unshed emotion and stress.

it has johnathan feeling nothing but guilt, and he wastes no time wrapping you in his arms. "are you okay?"

you nod, but then stop. "no. I thought we were fucked—especially with the lipgloss, oh my god johnny."

he kisses your head three times, each one longer than the last. you sigh into him, letting johnathan hold you like the delicate flower you feel you are in that moment.

you hate this feeling—because secretive behaviour makes you feel dirty. and with the secret you're keeping, you're much more than just dirty. you're breaking the rules, and risking not only your job, but johnathan's. the last thing you want to do is ruin his reputation—you fucking love him for fucks sake.

it’s not even about you anymore. because for him, you’d leave everything if it meant being with him. but you know johnathan, and he would never let you give up your job for him—ever. but you can’t keep going around like this, it’s running you.

you pull back, swallowing roughly as you drop your arms from around his waist. “we can’t do this anymore.”

he freezes. “what do you mean? can’t do what?”

you blink. “johnny…” your voice is laced with a knowing edge, because you know johnathan knows exactly what you mean—you can see it on his face. you look away, as you can’t bare to look at him any longer, it may kill you otherwise. “if we keep sneaking around, it’s going to end badly—it almost blew up in our face tonight.”

his brows furrow, cupping your face firmly so that you have no choice but to look into those eyes you love so much. “but I didn’t-It won’t if we do this right.” a rough swallow makes his adam’s apple jump, looking over your face like he can’t decide where to go. “tell me what I can do to change your mind.”

a tear falls down the round of your cheek, and the sight stabs him right in the chest. you shake your head, licking the salty water off your cupids bow. “I just…I think we need to stop.”

his hands fall from your face, and he runs them through his hair—pulling at his root until it hurts. johnathan respects you, and he loves you—even if he thinks you don’t love him in this moment. he will fulfill any wish you ask of him, and he’d do it with a smile, because you’re the most important thing in the world. so he nods firmly. “okay. if you want to stop, we’ll stop. I don’t care what’s happening. all I care about is you.”

you nod—too many emotions lodged in your throat to speak. johnathan reluctantly hands you your keys, your fluffy keychain tickling his skin for the last time. you pluck your purse that’s wedged between the pillow and side of the couch, slinging it over your shoulder before making your way to the door, leaving without another look in johnathan kovacevic’s direction.

part5: love looks pretty on you

as soon as you get back to your place you break down in embarrassing sobs—falling onto the couch while hazelnut licks your chin. although you think she just likes the taste of your tears, rather than it being a comforting thing, but you pretend it’s the latter.

as much as it hurts you and you regret it, you know breaking things off with johnathan was the right choice. you don’t want to burden him, or hold him back—you can’t be that girl. so as much as you want to call him and tell him you’ve changed your mind, you don’t. it’s for the better, even if you have a hard time believing it right now.

the next week is nothing short of painful. you can feel johnathan’s eyes on you constantly, but you’re strong in ignoring him—going about your drills like he’s just another face in the crowd. if keefe notices something is up with you, he doesn’t say anything. which honestly seems worse than if he was to ask.

johnathan is no better. he’s slacking on the ice, and it’s showing even during practice—slow and uncertain and clearly distracted. he can’t stop thinking about you, or looking at you. johnathan cant help but think about all the things he wish he said to you, before you ended it.

how he’ll always care for you. how he’d quit hockey for you if that’s what you wanted. how he’s never felt about someone the way he feels for you. that he loves you.

it’s lonely without you. he misses your laugh and your smile and the way you kiss his peck every morning when you wake up. johnathan even misses hazelnut and her persistent chirping.

he so desperately wants to get you back. show up on your doorstep with flowers and a speech that would probably make you cry. but he doesn’t do that—because it would go against your wishes, and break whatever trust you put in him. it’s killing him, and he can only hope you’re happy.

—

you’re lingering with the uneasy feelings that come with a loss, tossing your purse on the counter before kicking off your heels. although the loss was a team issue, you can’t help but remember how johnathan was -5 tonight, and how exhausted and defeated he looked the entire game.

you can’t help but speculate—scratch that, there’s no speculation. you know it’s because of your breakup, and that makes you feel really shitty. if it’s still affecting him this much, hell if its still affecting you this much, you can’t help but think it was the wrong choice to make.

months of a healthy relationship down the drain for…what? because you were scared? that’s not you. johnathan brought out the best in you, he listened and cared for you like nobody before. in jersey, you’re alone. no friends or family close by to talk to or spend time with, only hazelnut. but with johnathan you had family. and you fucking threw it away.

your eyes flicker to the clock on the microwave. it’s almost midnight. you take your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating your next actions. are you really about to do this? show up to your exs door and what? apologize? beg for him back?

you don’t know. but you know you love him, and you think letting him go forever will be the worse decision of your life.

coaching is a dream job. working with athletes in such an authoritative manner is a dream—it was your dream. but you have a new dream, and his name is johnathan. and if there’s one thing you’ve always lived by, it’s that to never give up on your dreams, especially for someone else. but that’s not what you’re doing—your dream has shifted, and you’re following its path in hopes of fulfillment.

before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re slipping on the first pair of shoes you see—a pair of heart print sandals that aren’t appropriate for the spring chill. you grab your keys and nothing else, getting into your car and following the familiar route to johnathan’s apartment.

the doorman recognizes you by now, and he lets you in with a smile. you’re anxious on the way up the elevator, a million things to say running through your mind—but as the doors open on johnathan’s floor, your head goes blank.

you force yourself to knock, a quiet sound that is barley heard from the bedroom at the back of the apartment…but johnathan hears it. he trudges over to the front door, nothing but a black hoodie and his boxers on.

as soon as the door is pulled open, revealing you in summer shoes and your game day pant suit from the game, johnathan is exhaling lowly. his eyes dart around your face, analyzing you. “you okay?”

your stomach clenches. he’s so fucking caring. “you’re my dream, johnny.” you blurt out, definitely too loud for this time of night.

his brows furrow, like he’s not sure what you mean. and fair enough, you think, because what does that mean? you continue shakily, “I love you. so much that it actually hurts. I would give up everything if it meant being with you forever—and I know you’d never let me, because you care about me and my dream. that’s why I ended things, as stupid as that sounds, because I didn’t want to put you in that situation. I didn’t want you doing something crazy like requesting a trade or fucking retiring early so that I could work for the team—because I knew you would do it.”

you swallow, but your mouth is so dry it almost hurts. “but you’re not going to let me forget about my dream, johnny—because you are my new dream. and if you love me, you’ll let me live with my new dream. being with you is all I need.”

johnathan shakes his head in amused disbelief, the faintest grin tugging at his mouth. “c’mere.” he mumbles, fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you into his apartment—only lit up by the lamp next to the tv. “you love me?” he asks, fingers leaving your wrist in favour of tucking some loose hair behind your ear—the strands that have escaped your once tight braid.

you nod all too quickly, “so much. i’m sorry.”

johnathan’s smile deepens, cupping your face like he’s done hundreds of times. “it’s okay, baby. I don’t care that you ended things with me—well, yes I care because I love you too—but if that’s what you needed in that moment, I would give it to you over and over again. even if it killed me.” he wets his bottom lip, looking deep into your watery eyes. “are you sure?”

there’s not hesitation in your words—there never has been with johnathan. “positive.” you nuzzle into his palm, “I love you so much.”

he leans in close, lips brushing yours. “I love you.”

and as he leans in and kisses you, you know that everything will work itself out. you’re not worried about the outcome, or what the future holds for your position with the team, but as long as you have johnny to come home to—it doesn’t matter.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

playlist

glitch by taylor swift

stuttering by jack & jack

cry your heart out by adele

fantasy by mariah carey

love looks pretty on you by nessa barrett

sports car by tate mcrae

babydoll by dominic fike

[orphicsun]

Please please please more Abby!!! Can you write about firefighter Abby since you did bluecollar already... Like Abby saving readers cat then reader goes to see Abby to give her a special thanks make it smut but with plot

I Need a Hero: Abby Anderson HCS

Content: Firefighter Abby x fem! reader, mentions of comphet/struggles with sexual identity, mentions of reader's cat being saved from a house fire, smut, make-out session, car sex, mult. orgasms, scissoring, fingering, modern AU Abby Anderson, loving, giggly sex instead of just rough and fast we love to see it

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Thank you for this request it was truly so refreshing to write something with plot. I hope you all enjoy this, and keep in mind that Abby's dialogue is red and reader's is pink!

✧.* Abby didn't have an easy life, but she was always a hard worker. She tried out college, got a general associates degree, but didn't enjoy the work load. She liked hands-on work and helping people, so she ended up with a EMT certificate from her local college.

✧.* Abby went on to become a firefighter and felt like she had a purpose in life with that. The look on people's faces when she was able to help them was always sent warmth throughout her heart. Though she was quite lonely, her mother having left her at a very young age and her father dead, she didn't have anyone to share her life with. She had her friends Mel, Owen, Manny, and Nora; still, there was always a part of her that longed for a comfort with someone special.

✧.* While Abby wasn't closed off from dating, she was never able to find a person who she had passion with. She went through a few relationships, but Abby could never find someone who understood who she was, that she wasn't just some attractive stereotype. Abby wasn't the type to have problems with any exes or undergo the tragic sapphic break-ups Nora warned her about, but she always felt like she wasn't understanding herself. She didn't know what she was looking for in a person. She dated various women, some more butch and others extremely feminine, some either funny or more po-faced, it was all somehow the same to her. She wasn't heartless, of course. She had fallen in love before and understood what attraction was. She just couldn't seem to find the "one true person" though, as cheesy as she knows that sounds.

✧.* Abby struggled with her sexuality and that may have had something to do with it. While she knew that she was attracted to women, she grew up denying it to herself. Seeing a beautiful girl made her heart stop, but she told herself it was simple attraction. Owen, whom she went to high school with, was her first time and that was when she was done lying to herself. She was definitely not for the men. Her first time with a woman was when she was already 20, but it was when she first felt like she had found a piece of herself. Before Jerry passed, she did come out to him, and his acceptance was branded into her head on repeat, playing over and over again every time she doubts who she is.

✧.* Abby lived in an apartment complex, not run-down and enough for her needs. Her place wasn't extremely decorated but she didn't spend much time there, so it didn't matter much. She constantly thought about more than that, though. She imagined living in the suburbs with a woman she could call her wife and be a wife, too. She dreamed of having perhaps a cat or dog with her and spending her nights watching as her wife's hips swayed softly as she hummed instead of eating cheap Chinese takeout. It was all just some dream, not something she ever considered to happen. At least, not anytime soon.

✧.* It was just another normal day for Abby when all hell broke loose. A few miles from her station, a house was on fire. The neighbor, frantic and in a panic on the phone with emergency services, informed the fire department that the woman who lived there had a cat inside of the house that the owner loved dearly. Unfortunately the woman was not home at the time the fire started, but the neighbor was certain that if she came home to a burning house, she wouldn't hesitate to risk her own life to save her kitty's. Abby's heart already squeezed at her chest at the though and she immediately signed herself up for the rescue.

✧.* When the firetruck arrived at your home, she was immediately hit by the smell of smoke flourishing into the sky. She wasted no time informing her coworkers of her next tasks and with the pull of a mask over her face, she hurriedly approached the burning structure. The front door was locked, which made sense seeing as how you lived in the suburbs and you were not home. Nevertheless, she was able to open a window and didn't hesitate to make her way through the living room. The fire was surrounding the hallway in which your heater seemed to have malfunctioned. The smoke was heavy and Abby was starting to panic. There was no cat to be seen and she was starting to lose hope, her tongue making small calling sounds in desperation that maybe, just maybe the cat would hear. She didn't want to give up, her voice heightening in volume, and right before she tried to open the bathroom door she heard a tiny "meow!" from the opposite side of the hallway. The bedroom. The fire hadn't touched it yet, thank god. Abby quickly burst through the door and found a small short-hair tuxedo cat meowing at her feet. She sighed in relief, muttering a little, soft "I've got you, kitty" before quickly scooping the baby into her arms and carrying it out of the home back out of the window.

✧.* When Abby took off her mask, small cat in her arms, she was greeted with the sight of a woman frantically crying to a few of her coworkers, the others working to put out the flames enveloping your home. There you were, heavy tears rolling down your face and the people surrounding her trying their best to assure you that your cat would be rescued. You were so beautiful even with sobs wracking over you, hair lit up in the sun and your expressions nearly bringing her to tears along with you. Abby didn't hesitate to approach you with the fur-ball cradled in her arms, clearing her throat from the slight smoke and seeing your eyes widen at the sight. "Oh my god, Minka!! My baby, is she okay?!" You shouted, your voice not carrying any aggression, though. It was clear that you were experiencing some fragments of an adrenaline rush coming home to said home burning down with your cat inside. Abby carefully handed your cat back to you, trying not to smile at her own thoughts. Minka, huh? That is the sweetest cat name she has never heard. Abby's heart once again squeezed at the sight of your tears slowing, your lips planting soft kisses all over the kitty's head. You were truly shaken, seeming to care more about the cat than the home. "I assure you that Minka is okay, miss. I found her in the bedroom and the fire hadn't traveled there yet. She may need to be brought in for any inhaled smoke, though." You nodded, holding the cat close. "Thank you...thank you so much, you really are a hero," you praised, your voice strained with emotion. Abby smiled, putting a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. "If you need anywhere to go, just let us know, okay?" A soft upturn of your lips left her cheeks slightly pink. She was supposed to be focusing on her job, goddamnit, but here she was floundering slightly over the soft lines of your smile. She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way about you, not when you just lost your home and almost lost your pet. She quickly composed herself as you replied to her, "I'll have to stay with my parents for a while, but thank you."

✧.* Even after the rescue ended, Abby couldn't get you out of her head. You were just so beautiful and sweet. She could tell even from the hour she'd spent by your side making sure the cat was okay and comforting you that you were probably one of the kindest, most caring people she could ever meet. She reprimanded herself for feeling this way about some stranger whose cat she saved. That's her job, afterall; she isn't supposed to find romance out of it. Why was it that she went home to call Nora and rant to her about the situation? It also didn't make sense that days after, you were in her dream with that same cat, your presence filling up her apartment and yours hands rising to cup her face so softly. You had the touch of an angel. When she woke, she was sweaty and breathless. She felt like she was going insane, dreaming of your touch when she hadn't even felt it yet. Jesus, Abby. Get a damn grip or you'll end up driving yourself crazy...

✧.* Two weeks later, Abby was playing cards with a few coworkers, laughing about some inside joke when her boss cleared his throat, catching her attention. In a gruff but not unfriendly voice as he always seemed to have, he told her that she was needed at his office. At first, she was terrified. What is she was being let go? She made okay money from her job, but she wasn't rich by any means. She wouldn't have enough to still afford her apartment.. Abby was now unusually nervous in a way that she didn't experience often. She always considered herself to her strong both physically and emotionally, but this was a tough situation to keep her composure in.

✧.* Abby was greeted with the sight of you sitting a chair placed against the wall, a tentative but sweet smile on your face. Her heart-rate began to speed up even more than it already was. Her boss spoke up behind her, wearing a tender smile. "She says she'd like to thank you," closing the door behind him. You took a deep breath. "I hope this isn't weird that I just..showed up at your job." Abby quickly shook her head, holding her hands out in a friendly gesture. "No, don't worry. Are you doing okay, though?" Her voice was laced with care, making your cheeks heat up. "Yeah. My parents, they're great people. I'm going to be staying with them until I'm able to afford a new place to stay." Abby smiled softly, for some reason the thought of your parents made her heart tender. "That's good to hear." The silence that followed wasn't exactly uncomfortable, and you couldn't help but get to the point. "Look.. I know it's your job and all, but you seriously saved me in a way I can't repay. I wasn't there, but Minka means everything to me." Your words almost brought tears to her eyes for some strange reason. Abby would like to find irritation in the way you made her so emotional at the flashback to your tears and sweet voice thanking her, calling her your hero, but she couldn't. "Well, I appreciate your gratitude. I don't hear that a lot," she admitted, and it was true. Abby had her friends and everyone in the community respected everyone who worked at the fire station, but she rarely heard appreciation like this. She knew that even if this was the last time she'd see you, your appreciation would stick with her. You looked genuinely shocked by that. "Well, I think you deserve so much appreciation. You put yourself at risk like that for my cat, and not everyone really cares for pets, you know?" Abby agreed with that statement, she knew it first-hand. Unfortunately when it came to rescues, pets weren't the priority. Your situation wasn't rare but it wasn't as common as others. "Well, I'm extremely glad I was able to save your cat. I can tell she's a sweet thing. Purred in my arms as I held her," she smiled as she recalled Minka's vibrations as as she was cradled in her arms. You laughed at that, your sweet smile only widening. "That means she likes you.." You trailed off, clearly meaning to say more. "Look...I feel like I owe you." Abby shook her head at that, her voice assuring. "Really, it's just my job to help in situations like that-" You cut her off, looking adamant, "Please? Just.. please, hear me out." She looked at your face, noting the look in your eyes. She slowly nodded. "I was thinking.. maybe I owe you a date?" Your voice, so sweet and friendly, rang in her ears. Date. You wanted a date with her? She didn't think much before she quickly accepted.

✧.* Abby, in her old ford pick-up truck, showed up at your parent's home with a bouquet of flowers. She didn't know what type was your favorite, so she went with white and pink roses. A little boring, but classics. It was a plus that the soft, pink petals reminded her of you.

✧.* When Abby was met with your parents at your front door, she felt like she was living out her old dreams of having a genuine high-school romance. Your folks were kind and thanked her for her rescue, even assuring her that she could come over anytime she'd like. Now, that made Abby a bit emotional. She was also emotional upon seeing the tiny black and white cat curled up on the living room couch, safe and content.

✧.* Abby and you just fit together well; the whole ride to the diner she wanted to bring you to went well. She told you riddles and made you laugh and in exchange, you offered up stories of Minka. You told her all about how she was a stray cat who would meow at your door for food and Abby's cheeks turned red thinking about you not hesitating to adopt a cat who had a hard childhood. She felt grateful that the sun was nowhere in the sky, only the moon and many stars so you couldn't see how flustered the thought made her.

✧.* Abby and you laughed away at dinner about countless memories the two of you could think of. Abby told you all about her friend-group and her own gay awakening. You only smiled and confessed that yours was a girl on the school soccer team at 13. Abby told you all about what happened with her parents, what her dreams were, even some of her fears. She didn't know why she felt the need to tell you all of this, but you only looked at her with sympathy and understanding, and you seemed to open up to her, too. For once, she felt understood.

✧.* After the two of you finished eating, you insisted that you pay since you somehow still owe her being her hero and now, apparently you owed her for the beautiful flowers, which you claimed were your favorite. Abby insisted that you needed to save your money after the incident and assured you that your time was payment enough. That made your heart jump out of your chest; how was she so intimidatingly-looking but the sweetest girl you'd ever met? You were in awe.

✧.* On the way home, you noticed an abandoned parking lot beside the highway, probably from an old gas station or restaurant and asked Abby to stop so that you could show her the constellations. She happily agreed, turning into the parking lot and putting her manual into park. She watched as you excitedly stepped out of her truck and laughed, quickly joining you to stand beside you.

✧.* Abby's face once again turned red and her palms grew sweaty when you interlocked your fingers with hers, gazing over to smile at her in the moonlight. Then, you ranted about the stars. You told her all about Orion, your favorite constellation. Abby was mesmerized by the way your found grew in pitch and how your words came out faster than usual when you got excited about something. Fuck, maybe you were already growing on her. She hoped you would like a second date after this. She'd spend all her money from her job on dates like these just to feel the intense pull you had surrounding you. She found herself hanging off of your every word, even though she was just some firefighter who knew nothing about astronomy.

✧.* When you finished your rant about the Big Dipper, she couldn't help herself. She spoke up, voice low and somewhat shy, "Hey.." You smiled and turned to face her, slightly caught off guard by her sudden words. "What's up?" She sighed. She needed to take this chance, you were like the girl of her dreams standing in front of her, ranting about something so cool. "Can I kiss you?" Butterflies hit your stomach, and you didn't hesitate to nod. Abby gently cupped your face and took her time to lean in. When her lips met yours, she swore the stars in the sky all increased in their luminosity.

✧.* Your lips were so soft and tasted like skittles, she thought it was the sweetest thing. Abby took her time to kiss you, not rushing the embrace but instead allowing herself to appreciate being able to kiss you like the two of you were the only people in the world. When she softly pulled away, breathless without even really kissing you that long, you pulled her in once more by the back of the neck and she eagerly parted her lips for you. The next kiss was more heated and passionate, leaving you pressed up against the side of her truck. Your tongue found hers and she moaned at the feeling. She didn't stop herself from taking your bottom lip into her mouth and giving it a soft suck. When you had to pull away for air this time, breathless and your face hot, Abby trailed her wet lips down your the column of your throat, her voice low and heated, "backseats?" And just like that, you were pulling at the truck's backdoor with a cheeky giggle.

✧.* The heated but passionate make-out session fogged up the windows but only turned into more. Soon, you were both naked in her backseat with your cunts making a noticeably loud squelching sound every time they met. It was the most emotional fuck of Abby's life. You couldn't stop leaving kisses all over her skin wherever you could reach, and she knew she could be guiding your hips to make the sensations even better, but all she really wanted to do was hold your hands and tell you how lucky she felt to have you like this, how beautiful you were. The truck was humid and cramped, and since it was the first time the awkward giggles and shaky hands were present, but Abby loved every single second of it. She was pretty sure her truck was moving along with them, but she couldn't care. She was only able to feel how your warm cunt ground against hers at the perfect angle to lavish sensations onto her clits, making her head spin with the need to have you as hers for as long as possible and her, yours.

✧.* The sex was desperate and made her lose her mind with the need to cum, but still slow. Tribbing itself is a lot of work but so very intimate that it can last longer if she needs it to, and she needed it to. She didn't want to stop feeling you like this. She never thought of herself as a vulgar person, but the feeling of your pussy, the way your breath hitched and you even let out soft moans of pleasure when your clit felt their actions only made her want you in the most intense ways.

✧.* The orgasm was the best one she had ever received. You were both moaning together and sweaty, waves of pleasured sharing you. She swore she felt a string connecting the both of you, not only your connected pussies but also your hearts. It wasn't like one singular snap between her legs, but an ongoing slaught of euphoria that she didn't think would ever end. Abby didn't want it to. She wished she could stay in that truck with you forever, just feeling your lips plastered over her skin and your hips meeting hers.

✧.* You didn't mind another round, and Abby happily spent the rest of the hour with her finger buried deep inside you and yours in her own cunt, gifting each other yet another beautiful orgasm. It wasn't exactly the same, your own curling of fingers onto her spongey walls at various paces and times while her own pace grew along with your moans, but it somehow caused the next peak to end up even more special as the first.

✧.* When it was over, it was 9 and Abby still had time to kill. She held you in her arms, legs tangled up together and for just a while, she forgot everything else but what just happened with you. She held you tightly to her and when you both came down from the after-math, you shared little laughs and Abby's voice came through so sweetly and somehow shy, even after all that happened. "Would you wanna do this again?" You laughed and kissed her cheek. "I dunno if I can handle another round, but I wish." She giggled, so sweetly and loving, "I meant another date, dumbass." At that, you sighed and squeezed her. "Oh, well that makes more sense. Yeah, I'd like another date."

[chuulyssa]

jealous monster trio + law and ace x reader

a/n. not proofread!! i wrote this on my phone in the middle of watching a movie ong. idk why there aren't many dialogues in ace and law's part, but im lowkey pleased with how everything turned out

tags. fluffy fluff fluff, established relationship

crack tags. sanji gets a nosebleed (again), sanji tries to steal you away, sanji (that's it, that's the warning), marco bepo and robin are the best matchmakers, nami robs someone 😴

luffy wasn't the type to be overly possessive about the things he liked. growing up with two brothers, he had learned to share all mundane things in his life; his clothes, his blanket, even his toothbrush.

but not you.

luffy didn't understand the feeling that was developing in the pit of his stomach at the sight of you working out with zoro in the crow's nest. it was nice to stay healthy, right? that was what he had thought when he saw you reject his offer to play board games with him. he watched you walk away and up to the crow's nest where the swordsman practically lived, and sulkily climbed his special seat on the head of the sunny.

"oi, luffy! come down," usopp called out from the deck, and he glanced at the latter. "robin's telling us another story of the ancient civilizations of the west blue!"

"i'm not in the mood," luffy shouted back, still gazing wistfully at you.

he watched your face contort into one of pain when you moved to do the crunches, and zoro laughed at you before showing you how to breathe in the position as you lifted yourself back up.

"are you sure? i think you're just hungry!" usopp called again. "robin said we can have some of the special pancakes sanji made for her."

luffy stared back at his friend, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought hard. soon after, he yelled back, "i'll come down, give me one second!"

as you got back up from the crunch you were performing, you saw a long arm on the glass wall of the room and nearly screamed. luffy accidentally slammed his face into the wall, his cheeks comically enlarged as he spoke something incoherent to you. zoro rolled his eyes from beside you.

"i think he's saying break time is over. you've gotta go deal with him now."

.

zoro was rather secure in your relationship. he didn't mind it when other people commented about how nice you are, or about how pretty you look. he let it all slide, seeing as he knew all of the comments were true, and you deserved to know that. so he wasn't one to get mad when such things happened.

except when it came to the idiot cook.

it had been almost fifteen minutes past your usual time and you still hadn't shown up. zoro had gritted his teeth in the middle of a set and set out to find you. it didn't take him long, however, to figure out what was keeping you.

"my dear y/n, you must listened to this acoustic poem i have written in your name," the cook had one of your hands in his, blocking your way up to the crow's nest.

"i'm sure it's lovely, sanji, but i'm in a hurry right now--"

"ah, where, i wonder, must i look to find another beauty such as yourself--?"

"oi, cook! buzz off, will ya? no one wants you around," zoro's voice came from upstairs, and you turned to look at him.

the cook glared at him from behind you, but immediately pouted wistfully when you turned back at him. "don't say that, 'ro," you scolded, and the cook's face lit up at your words, eyes gleaming at the sight of zoro's annoyed look.

"i said what i said," zoro walked downstairs, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers when he reached you. "buzz off, prince of the perverts."

.

sanji is a little bit of an idiot. insecurity runs in his veins, and thus so does jealousy. you would have felt bad for him too, had he not been making you feel the same way since day one.

his face streamed with tears as he followed you around the marketplace. a few minutes earlier, you had caught him shooting to the sky with a nosebleed because of some poor woman's smile. he had landed right at your feet, the sight momentarily disarming you before you kicked his frame out of the way to walk.

it had been about half a minute of you ignoring him and he was on his hands and knees, begging for you to spare a glance at him. you would have felt bad, had this not been the fiftieth time in a week. you instead chose to turn to usopp, who had grown to learn to ignore sanji and his antics around women ever since they first met at the baratie. sanji's ears turned a bright red at your movement, and he clinged even harder at you

the two of you silently agreed to not wait for nami while she was busy robbing civilized people in a restaurant, and sped up at the looks the passersby were giving sanji, who was practically hanging onto your waist right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, angel, i know that's not gonna cut it but i beg for your humble forgiveness, i will not ever-"

"how do you deal with this moron?" usopp whispered to you, and you whispered back an "i don't know".

sanji kept mumbling things into your hips and pressing soft kisses into your waist, until you gave in when chopper hurried up to where you were, polaroids of your smile hanging around his neck; your boyfriend was just in rehab!

.

ace didn't think you looked half as good with anyone else but him. that is another way to say, he couldn't stand anyone who was within a certain radius from you. he wouldn't talk about it at all, and whenever you would bring it up he would play dumb.

but he hated it; not in a you're-mine-and-belong-to-me way but more in a im-just-a-boy-who-needs-external-validation-to-exist kinda way.

so he didn't like the way you were the only 'daughter' in whitebeard's crew among all the 'sons' who spoke about you like you were a trophy. he didn't like how you were placed under marco's division and not his. he didn't like how both whitebeard and marco laughed at him whenever they caught him looking at you.

after a particularly rough mission, the first division was having a blast with all the treasure they had managed to get back. ace looked at you with a longing pout on his face, about ten feet away from you. you were laughing with thatch at the moment, and he was busy fantasizing about how you would react if he carried you into your shared room on his shoulder, kissed the back of your nape and sucked hickeys to spell his name on your neck--

marco slapped the back of his head and his face fell into his plate with a loud crash.

"thank me later," marco said, eyes unwavering as the man in front of him fell asleep face-first into a plate full of food.

he went away as ace woke up shortly after, his face covered in curry, with men laughing at and mimicking him, but among all of them, his ears only heard the sound of your laughter before you quickly got up to hand him tissues.

.

law did not care. or at least, he pretended not to. after all, it had taken multiple tantrums from bepo to get him to confess to you, and even then he had made it clear he was not a fan of whatever you might have thought to be an 'ideal, loving relationship'.

that was, until today, when you had learned just how far you had to push his buttons to transform him into a romantic man. you could feel law's gaze on you as you laughed at whatever dumb thing luffy had just said, but when you turned around, he was busy conversing with robin about who knows what. once again, you turned to luffy, felt weird, turned back and saw nothing. for every minute you talked to the straw hat about something, you could feel law breathing down your neck, albeit in a subtle manner that no one but you seemed to catch.

"law," you finally came up to him, and he looked up at you as if he hadn't for ages. "is something wrong?"

"what makes you think so?" he challenged, and you could feel robin chuckle next to him. after shooting her a perplexed look, you shrugged and walked back to where the group was having fun, staying a bit closer to chopper this time, for luffy's safety.

it wasn't until the two of you had retreated back to your shared room for the night that you had realised what you felt had not been a hoax. law was on you the moment you lay next to him on the bed, nuzzling up to you and pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

you were confused, to say the least, but you had a faint suspicion that this strange side of law was the idea of a certain archaeologist.

[cartierre]

CHIHIRO | lh44

synopsis: and if all is too late, is there still a way to salvage what we once called love?

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader (formerly), theo james x fem!reader (mentioned) warnings: angst, heartbreak, (some) vulgar language, lots of dialogue, no use of y/n word count: 2.1k

author's note: yes this is inspired by billie eilish's song 'chihiro' and also a bit by nicole's and lewis' relationship/break up! tried to be experimental, please give me your honest opinion about this i beg you. this is also not proof read since i hate reading my own stuff!

You’re fine. 

Everything’s fine.

You’re so close.

No one can take this away from you now.

Taking a deep breath, the only thing you could concentrate on were your shaky hands in front of you, the many voices behind you overlapping and blurring into each other. You couldn’t distinguish your mother’s voice from your sister’s, or your bridesmaid’s from your friend’s. Your dad was out there somewhere, getting everyone to take their destined place to take one worry off your mind. 

The dress you picked out months ago suddenly starts to suffocate you, the white blinding your eyes in an uncomfortable manner. You couldn’t decipher what happened. A minute ago you felt like the most beautiful woman on earth and the next you felt like ripping off your own skin. 

You have cold feet.

No, no I don’t.

“I think I need some fresh air.”

The voices behind you stopped at once. There was a split second of awkward silence before you could hear some feet shuffling over to you. Your mother’s concerned face appeared in your view. You could tell she tried to hide her worry. 

“Are you sure my darling?” She asked. You just nodded without looking into her eyes.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry, your daughter is just having a panic attack.

“Should Savannah accompany you?” She looked at your sister, waving her over to help you up. You shook your head no. 

“I just need a moment to calm down from all the excitement.” You lied to their faces, sending them your most believable smile you had in store. You were a great liar, the perks of being an actress. 

Throwing over a soft robe to at least conceal some of the wedding dress, you hurried out of the suffocating room. You smiled and nodded at some of the people you passed by, trying to hold up your act of a happy bride. This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life after all.

Getting out of the small house next to the main one, you fled the eyes of the guests and escaped into the big, blossoming garden, finding your way into the massive maze that adorned the centrepiece. The old mansion behind you disappears from your sight and with each step away from the buzzing preparations of the wedding, your breath starts to normalise again. 

Bending over and holding yourself up by your knees, you caught your breath. The heavy feeling started to disperse, your mind clearing up. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on your surroundings.

The mild wind breezed through your hair and caressed your face, you could hear the leaves from the many hedgerows making up the maze and the water splashing softly against the fountain. Birds chirped in the distance and you could faintly make out some people’s voices up at the mansion. 

And some footsteps approaching you.

“The centrepiece of the hedge maze might not be the most convenient hiding spot.”

You tensed, your eyes snapping open and you straighten your back. He was behind you, so he couldn’t see the shock written clearly all over your face.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You still hadn’t turned around. 

“It would be rude to turn down a wedding invitation without a good reason.” He answered, and you could hear his steps getting louder and louder behind you.

He slowly came into view. You had yet to turn your head into his direction, but from the side you could see him sitting down on one of the stone benches next to you. 

Finally, you turned your whole body to him. He wore a black suit, classic yet he made it seem so chic. His hair was braided back, his beard trimmed neatly and you could see some of his tattoos peeking out from underneath. Gold jewellery adorned his ears, his neck and hands.

He looked absolutely ethereal.

“And I figured if you didn’t want me to be here, you wouldn’t have invited me.”

You felt your body burn out of embarrassment. You didn’t answer him, you just kept staring at him with your most neutral face you could muster. 

“Theo was the one who suggested it.” 

He chuckled, and part of you wanted to melt right there. 

“He’s always been a gentleman.”

Silence. Birds chirping, leaves blowing, water splashing, the occasional yell from someone up the mansion. 

“I see you’ve got the venue you always wanted.” He looked around. “The waiting list must’ve been long.”

“They made an exception for us.” You kept your answers to a minimum.

“Right.” He nodded and kept admiring your surroundings. “The perks of being rich and famous.”

His eyes found yours again, you felt your heart stop for a second before returning to a rather fast speed. You hoped you kept your cool at least from outside.

“You look beautiful.” His eyes soften, the smile on his lips genuine.

“Thank you.” You gave him a nod.

“Theo is a lucky man.”

You could’ve been that lucky man.

“So they say.” 

He chuckled again. “You used to be more talkative.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to hold a conversation with you.” He laughed at your words, shaking his head.

“Say the words and I leave.”

You kept silent. He smiled.

“You have cold feet.” You felt like an arrow just entered right in the middle of your guts. “That’s why you’re out here and not up there.”

He analysed your body language. 

Fuck, he’s always been good at reading you like an open book.

“You’re scared.” He finalised his conclusion. “I’m just figuring out why… You always wanted this. Big engagement, great wedding, grand marriage…” He placed his chin on his hands, his arms resting on his upper legs. “What are you scared of?”

You bit your lip, your arms felt heavy on your sides, your fingers started to fiddle with the material of the robe. You felt so naked in front of him, so insecure and exposed. Your breath starts to pick up again.

“What are you running from, my love?”

He felt your body language change up in pace, your neutral stance completely flipping over. He stood up, his face painted in worry as he approached you. “Hey, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck you, Lewis!” You took a step away and he stilled instantly. “Don’t fucking call me your love!”

You breathed heavily, as if you were close to exploding from all the emotions flowing inside you. Maybe you were.

You’re fine. 

Everything’s fine.

You’re so close.

No one can take this away from you now.

You calmed yourself again.

The birds are chirping.

The leaves are blowing.

The water is splashing.

The wedding is happening.

“I’m sorry.” You apologised. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Lewis looked at you, you avoided his gaze. You could sense him sitting down again. 

“I think you swearing at me is the closest I’ve seen from the you I know.”

“Well, you don’t know me anymore.” You snapped. “You haven’t in years.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t.”

You sighed too, your hands dropping to your sides again. You know you should just leave and return to your girls. They were probably already looking for you. 

Yet you took one step after the other and sat down next to him. 

“I am scared.” You confessed. You didn’t know why you were telling him this. Maybe because you felt like he was the only person you could talk to. “It was supposed to be you.”

Your mother would kill you for having such thoughts and your friends wouldn’t understand. Your sister would roll her eyes at you and god forbid your future mother-in-law knows about any of the doubts you had about marrying her son.

“I know.” His words made you smile sadly. 

You looked at him and he looked at you. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he did. No one, not even Theo.

“You were always meant to be a bride.” He twirled a strand of hair of yours between his fingers. “I just wasn’t meant to be a groom.”

You looked away and he let go of your hair, his hand lingering for a second in the air before dropping onto his lap. 

“I know.” Now he was the one smiling sadly.

You fiddled with the bow holding together your robe. Your thoughts were racing, but none made sense. 

“You shouldn’t be scared.” He took your hand in his, his fingers playing with your engagement ring. “You wouldn’t be wearing this if it was wrong to marry him.”

“Sometimes I catch myself thinking what ring I’d be wearing if you had been ready at the time.” You breathed out, leaning back against the bench. “And then I feel silly thinking that way about a man who has broken me in a way I thought I was never going to recover from it.” You snatched away your hand from his grip.

You heard him sigh next to you. He held his face in his hands and you could tell he was ashamed of his past actions. “I was an asshole.”

You chuckled at his words bitterly. “Yeah, you were.”

There was some understanding silence between you. This time it didn’t feel uncomfortable, no, more reassuring. He knew, you knew. There was no need to focus on your surroundings.

“I don’t think I want you at my wedding.” You breathed shakingly, unsure how he’d react to your words. You looked at him on your side. He was already staring at you. His eyes were sad, yet he understood you. He always did.

“Can you do me a favour?” He asked. “Can you show me your dress?”

Without any further words, you stood up and unveiled yourself from your robe. He sucked in a breath.

It wasn’t particularly extravagant. The simple cut hugging you perfectly as if it was custom made for you. Maybe because it was. The designer of your choice had outdone themselves, keeping it the exact same way you had envisioned it. 

Elegant, modern, ethereal.

It took Lewis a minute to compose himself. He never thought he’d see you in a wedding dress. Part of him regrets that he asked you to show yourself to him.

“You’re an angel.” You don’t look like an angel, you are an angel. You blushed.

You took your robe again, covering yourself up as much as you could. “Thank you.”

For a second you stood there and took a deep look at him. The way he sat there, it had changed. Before, he looked so confident, so sure of himself. After he saw you in your dress, you weren’t sure what to make of him.

He looked small.

“I should go.” You couldn’t bear it any longer. You’ve already talked too much to him.

Why were you still here? 

You turned around without waiting for his response. Taking the ends of your dress in your hand, you made sure to not get any dirt on it as you stepped away from the man you once loved. Once.

“I think-”

You staggered, halting in your movements. You were a few feet away from him, already at the entrance of the maze to make your way out of it. Turning around, you saw him as he stood up. 

“I think maybe I would’ve been ready.” He nodded unsure. “At one point.”

You stared at him, your lips pressed against each other. 

“I think I was overwhelmed by it all. My career, my team, you… That’s why I ran away.”

You kept staring at him without uttering a word, your dress still held up slightly. He continued.

“I think I see that vision of yours now.” He took a shaken breath. “It’s really beautiful.”

You felt your stomach twist and your hands grabbing the material of your dress more aggressively. Why did he tell you all this now? Was he trying to sabotage you? He’s done it once, you needed to make sure he wouldn’t do it again. Not this time, never again.

You cleared your throat. “I meant it, don’t come to my wedding.”

“Wait, I-”

“Lewis,” You interrupted him. “My love isn’t yours anymore. You’re the one who needs to let go now.”

And with that you turned your back to him, your face looking up at the mansion that stood upon you. Your future lay there. He couldn’t stop you anymore.

You’re fine. 

Everything’s fine.

You’re so close.

No one can take this away from you now.

You’ve never looked back again.

[mcflymemes]

PRETTY WOMAN (1990) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

people put you down enough, you start to believe it.

i'd like you to spend the week with me.

what's going on out here?

i don't feel like being alone tonight.

i think you have a lot of special gifts.

i'm very angry with my father.

i'm sorry i ever met you.

do you have a wife? girlfriend?

no matter what they say, it's all about money.

no wonder why you came looking for me.

if i forget to tell you later, i had a really good time tonight.

it must be difficult to let go of something so beautiful.

i appreciate this whole seduction scene you've got going, but let me give you a tip. i'm a sure thing, okay?

can we just move it along?

i like him so much.

how was your day, dear?

you should go for him. you look hot tonight.

call me when you're through.

what's your name?

what do you want it to be?

you and i are such similar creatures, [name].

i called and called. where were you last night?

you clean up real nice.

what's your name?

that's my favorite name in the whole world.

i'm gonna rip off all my clothes.

wow, great view!

how much is this?

i don't think this would fit you.

i think you are a very bright, very special woman.

i'm gonna treat you so nice, you're never gonna wanna let me go.

i'm here now.

let's watch old movies all night. we'll just veg out in front of the tv.

look, i'll tell you what. i'll be back.

the bad stuff is easier to believe. you ever notice that?

you can't charge me for directions.

you got that... sharp, useless look about you.

i told you not to pick up the phone.

i just wanna know who it works out for.

name someone? you want me to name someone?

what's your dream?

very few people surprise me.

well, you're lucky.

can i have another word, please?

it happens all the time.

some dreams come true, some don't.

so what happened after he climbed up the tower and rescued her?

i can do anything i want to, baby.

you're late.

may i help you?

do you remember me?

you're stunning.

do you have anything in this shop as beautiful as she is?

could you come down to the front desk?

i was in here yesterday.

i have to go shopping now.

did you enjoy the opera?

i have to go now.

she's sweet. where ever did you find her?

people's reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic. they either love it or hate it.

there's a sofa in here for two!

if they love it, they will always love it.

i want you to understand, i heard everything you said.

this is all i'm capable of right now.

it's a very big step for me.

i want the fairy tale.

you're forgiven.

i'm just using him for sex.

are you sure you want me to stay for the entire night?

[megalomaniacz]

ENTANGLED IN YOU — FLOWER KNOWS BEST!

click me!

ellie williams x reader

a/n: this is definitely something! idk do you guys like dialogue heavy parts? i wanted it to feel very tense and rushed like it would in a scene. whatever this is just for fun!

tags: @onlinelesbo, @seraphicsentences

masterlist

“holy fuck! holy fuck.”

“shit.”

you both scream out in terror at the sight of each other. before you, the freckle faced woman is tied to a chair with rope. eyebrows furrowed as she regains consciousness and realizes where she is.

“who are you? are you looking for the cure?” you point the pan at her, using it to size her up.

“this has got to be some kind of sick fucking joke. cure? who are you?”

“i asked you first.” you reply snarkily, holding the pan closer to her face.

she struggles with the rope a bit, reaching for the switchblade that’s usually in her pocket. once she realizes it’s gone, she visibly becomes angry. “i’m a person who wants to get out of these fucking ropes.”

you back away a little bit, putting the pan down. her face softens as she studies yours. it’s clear that you’re just scared. more than she is. you look around for a pair of scissors.“i thought you were someone else.”

“someone else, huh? i’d hate to see what you do to them.” she slumps further in the chair, surrendering to the restraints.

“where are you coming from? i thought that everyone out there was infected.”

“how long have you been up here? infected have been dying out since the cure was created. there are settlements everywhere.”

“i knew it was a settlement! the one with the festival lights.”

“yes. alot of them have those.” she deadpans.

you revel in excitement and prepare to rapid fire questions, especially ones about the cure she mentioned, but you’re interrupted by the sound of doctor calling from below. you look at the mystery woman, and she looks at you. before she can scream for help you jump on her. the two of you fall to the ground with your hand on her mouth. she licks it, causing you to give her a disappointed look.

“if she finds you here she will kill you. you need to-“

“flower!”

“you need to shut up. i’ll hide you in my room. please, don’t make any noise.” you plea.

you look into her eyes, an iridescent verdant, light shining into them. they meet yours and she sees you. all your fear and confusion. she nods, and you lift her up, dragging her into your room.

“flower? flower!”

“coming!”

the world begins to move in slow motion. possibilities unraveling themselves in your mind. you pull the lever, and put on your best inconspicuous smile.

“did you check on the lights?” you rush.

“no hello? don’t be rude flower i-“

“hello. did you check the lights, doctor?”

she lets out a deep breath, looking over at you with compassion and sadness in her eyes. “i did. i understand you were excited but i was right. nothing out there but remains and infected. no viable life except for the land.”

you don’t know what to say. you’re not sure if she’s aware or if she’s lying to you. the former is somewhat comforting but you’re leaning towards the latter, following a feeling in your gut.

her watch goes off and she rushes to hug you. “i’m sorry sweetheart, i have to go again. i’ll be back in three days time. i promise, i’ll make this birthday extra special.” she places a kiss on your forehead and quickly rushes back down the tower.

you have to stand with yourself. soaking in the moment. questioning the person you’ve been with your entire life and putting their word against the stranger you just met. a series of scenarios running through your mind-

“where’s my switchblade?” the mysterious woman interrupts.

“fuck- sorry. i forgot you were here.”

you watch as she rubs her wrists. you always did tie terrible knots.

“you forgot i was here? you tied me up and told me your friend was going to kill me if i didn’t stay quiet.”

you shake your head. “we don’t have to go over the details. i’m sorry. i hid it somewhere.”

“well, can i have it back?”

the gears begin to turn in your mind. cooking up an idea so cartoonishly that you can swear a lightbulb formed over your head.

“i will give you back your knife-“

“switchblade.”

“whatever. i will give it back if you take me to see the lights.”

“i could just kill you.”

“and you’ll leave without your knife-“

“switch. blade.”

“because i’ve hidden it where you’ll never be able to find it.”

she rolls her eyes. “seriously?”

you inch closer to her. “please. i promise i’ll give it back to you, i never break a promise. i just need to see the outside world. i’ve never been allowed to leave this place.”

she stares at you for a moment. eyeing you up and down. “did you hit me over the head with a frying pan?”

you suck your teeth, crossing your arms and huffing. “listen. i will give you whatever you want and more if you show me the festival lights .”

“they’re normal lights?” she corrects.

you can feel your patience waning. “i should’ve kept you tied up and taped your mouth shut.”

“i should just kill you.”

“no!” you shake your head rapidly “please. what’s your name? doctor calls me flower. what’s your name?”

she hesitates. “ellie.”

“ellie. it’s nice to meet you ellie.” you smile but she’s not in the mood.

“i will give you back all your stuff, some paintings and sweaters i’ve made. even a portion of a cure doctor made using my blood if you-“

“your blood?”

“yes, i’m immune. i actually shouldn’t even be telling you that…”

everything else is a blur for ellie. thoughts race through her mind as she realizes the seriousness of what you’ve just confessed. and she thought she was the only one.

“okay. fine, whatever. i’ll take you to see the ‘lights’ and then when i bring you back you give me my stuff. and the cure.”

this is an offer you can’t refuse. a chance at uncovering the truth. an opportunity to explore the world in a way you never had before. and you must make it there and back in three days time.

“deal.”

[lambfawnteeth]

Character Profile: Daniel Frey

(Older picture but whateva)

I will not be brief.

Mentions of SA and domestic abuse

Daniel Frey

Just gonna state the facts, then after I’ll ramble about whatever metaphors and symbolism I write into his character.

Daniel is 19, working as the nurse intern aboard the Tulpar. He’s paired with Anya, and basically acts like her assistant, doing menial tasks regarding the med bay while he completes his own course work. He took up the internship for a few reasons; to get out of the house, probably for some sort of college credit, and/or because his mother insisted it would look good in a resume. 

(Background)

I’ll put this first in order to contextualize some of his behavior. Daniel’s family life is incredibly rocky, his father being a narcissist. Daniel himself is a product of rape, his father assaulted his mother in order to trap her in a marriage, which unfortunately worked. Despite this, Daniel’s mother tried her best, being there for him when he needed, but she wasn’t without her own shortcomings. Daniel was raised with his narcissistic father and codependent mother, and in order to cope with everyday life, he took after his mother. He fawned for his father, walking on eggshells, grew hypervigilant of his mood and tone, etc., all to keep the peace in the household. Submission and obedience were carved into his bones, even as he reached adulthood, his father still ruled their house with an iron fist. Daniel joined the Tulpar crew largely to find an escape for his home life, desperate to break free from the constant cycle of abuse. Daniel is a trans man, pre-op and pre-T, so he’s aware of how he appears to others. He was named Rosalyn at birth, and raised and socialized as a woman. This identity of womanhood also weighed heavily on him as well, as you can imagine, his father didn’t have the most stable or respectful view of women, or queer people. All this being said, Daniel was raised in a very specific environment, one that cultured him into being prone to severe codependency and trauma bonding, because that’s all he knew. 

(Pre-crash)

Weeks into the flight, Daniel had finally started to open up, acting more genuine and confident. His personality is more mellow than Daisuke’s, but he has a good sense of humor, especially at inappropriate times. He’s a pretty stereotypical angsty teenager at times, sarcastic and tired, but that’s all combined with his sense of empathy and people pleasing tendencies. I.e., if you know who April Ludgate from Parks and Recreation is, he acts like her, but a bit more nice. Despite coming out of his shell, he still acts a little strangely from Curly’s pre-crash POV. Spacing out, forgetting things, flinching often , jumping in to try and appease the situation a little too quickly, but Curly being Curly, he doesn’t focus on the warning signs. Possibly the most obvious display of Daniel’s struggles from Curly’s segments would be the party scene, where Jimmy blows up and shouts at him about being laid off. While the others have their own dialogue, Daniel is completely silent, his head bowed, hands in his lap, like a child being scolded. The situation was painfully similar to thing’s he’d dealt with at home, with an angry man yelling over the dinner table. Daniel strives for praise from those around him, especially those in authority, like Curly or Anya, even Jimmy. 

(Relationships)

Curly: Being an intern, I imagine Daniel is maybe a little intimidated by him, as he is with most men older than him. However, he grows to see Curly as well intentioned, but a little ignorant. I have this idea in my head that he’s one of those people who try to be supportive to a trans person, but just end up being awkward about it. Daniel finds it funny.

Jimmy: At this point, Daniel doesn’t exactly like Jimmy that much. He gives him this weird feeling at times, he can sense there’s something about him that isn’t like the others. He can’t exactly put his finger on it now, but later he realizes it’s because Jimmy reminded him of his father, just a little bit. He’s still courteous, but definitely gives him weird looks and avoids talking to him if he looks a little too irritated at the world. This is just me projecting but tbh Jimmy gives me the vibe that he’s passively transphobic, like he’ll call Daniel by his chosen name and masculine pronouns, but only because he doesn’t want the others thinking he’s an asshole, not because he actually cares about Daniel’s feelings or identity.

Anya: He adores Anya, as a mentor and a friend. He likes being able to talk freely with her, they probably share a similar set of values and humor. There’s also the fact that she’s the only woman in a ship full of cis men, so he feels more comfortable being around her anyway. I think I can equate their relationship as a closeted highschool student and their hip English teacher that they spend lunch with. 

Daisuke: Being the two youngest members of the crew, (I think Daisuke is around his age, maybe 19-20), they’re definitely good buddies. They talk about video games and pokemon and things they miss about being on earth, like wifi. Though, I do think if they weren’t forced into proximity and isolation, like if they went to college together, they probably wouldn't really talk. They’re just parts of different crowds. Daisuke is active and outgoing, he plays sports, while Daniel would usually keep to himself on earth, the kind of guy to only really have two or three close friends and no one else.

Swansea: Again, Daniel was initially intimidated by him, a lot, and he still is, but not as much anymore. Mostly it’s because Swansea seems like a decent guy, but Daniel just has a hard time reading him, and that makes him nervous. I think Swansea would see him as (surprisingly) slightly more tolerable than Daisuke, because he’s a bit more level headed and soft spoken. 

(Post-crash)

Daniel changes drastically after the incident, and in the time skip, he’s messily chopped his hair, covered up, and has stopped wearing his binder, and has stopped taking good care of himself in general. He’s lost hope at this point, and is only really going through the motions, because the dynamic between himself, Anya, and Jimmy is the only familiar thing he can grasp onto, even if it’s far from healthy or kind. Daniel’s mellow personality shifts to timidness, depression, and an unwillingness to stand up or speak for himself. He’s grown to be massively pessimistic, acknowledging that he believes that they’re all going to die. He follows Jimmy around like a lost puppy, fawning and appeasing him to keep the tension low. When he isn’t entertaining Jimmy, he heels at Anya’s side like a guard dog, afraid to leave her alone, even losing sleep over it. He bows his head, taking Jimmy’s verbal abuse and comments, but whenever Jimmy directs it towards Anya, he leaps up to defend her, even redirecting Jimmy’s abuse onto himself. He practically begs for comfort and validation, just needing someone to tell him that he’s doing good because he’s so lost and afraid. Essentially, he regressed to the trauma responses of himself at seven years old. 

(Relationships)

Curly: Daniel holds a love hate relationship with him. He hates Curly for putting them in this situation, for not doing anything about Jimmy. Meanwhile, he also deeply understands and relates to him, given that he’s now taken up the mantle of appeasing Jimmy, stepping right in where Curly left. He will linger in the med bay at times and speak to him, just vent about everything and tell him how much he hates him, how sorry he is, how much he hates himself, and he feels guilty taking advantage of the fact that Curly can’t leave or respond or refute anything Daniel says. It’s a vicious cycle, because as much as Daniel is angry at Curly, he’s also angry at himself. They’re much more similar than either care to admit, and maybe they always have been.

Jimmy: Daniel simultaneously despises him and grasps at any bit of praise or attention he offers. Jimmy takes advantage of this. Jimmy essentially treats Daniel like a lap dog, a pet, rather than a human being. He knows he can kick him around, and Daniel will still scurry back for whatever crumbs he gives him. It makes Jimmy feel in control, powerful, important. Daniel is both lost in the toxicity of the relationship and painfully self aware of the hole he’s dug himself into. Sometimes Daniel wishes he could tear his head off, and sometimes he clings to him like a lifeline. This all stems back to Daniel’s background- Jimmy reminds him of his father, not only in his personality, but in his actions, what he did to Anya- and he simply crumpled back into the mold he was pressed into by his family. 

Anya: At times, Daniel is like velcro on her side, refusing to let her out of his sight. He’s too scared of Jimmy, too scared to let something bad happen again, especially because he projects the image of his own mother onto Anya. He feels responsible for protecting her, because of the pregnancy (to which she told him about shortly after the crash), and because of her dynamic with Jimmy, it’s like he’s defending a past version of his own mother from his father. Anya loathes the position she was put into, trying to manage herself, Curly, all while watching Daniel tear himself apart just to try and keep the ship quiet. After all, Daniel is the only other soul on the ship that understands the horror, the fear, the violation of abuse in this capacity, and she’s watching him fall right back into line.

Daisuke: Daniel has all but retracted into himself at this point, neglecting the relationship that he and Daisuke had. Daisuke notices, and it upsets him that the only person he felt like he could relate to is now pretending like he doesn’t exist. 

Swansea: Again, Daniel doesn’t pay much attention to him, or his intern. Of course, Daniel shrinks in his presence, especially given his resurfacing struggles with addiction. Swansea is probably extremely annoyed by how desperately Daniel bends over backwards for approval, especially for a man like Jimmy. Two words to describe Swansea’s feelings about Daniel at this point would be “pity” and “annoyance”. He knows what’s going on, he isn’t blind, or stupid, he simply doesn’t find it in himself to have the knowledge or motivation to fix it. 

(Death)

Daniel’s death (sorta) happens after Anya’s and before Daisuke’s. Seeing Anya’s death shook something in Daniel, broke him, and finally flipped a switch in his brain to act instead of bending infinitely. When Jimmy leaves Daisuke with Swansea, injured and bleeding out, in order to find mouthwash in an attempt to “help”, Daniel wordlessly gets up and begins to follow him. Swansea says nothing, only focusing on Daisuke, because deep down, he knew Daniel was going to do something drastic, and he wasn’t going to convince him otherwise. Daniel swipes one of the hammers from the maintenance room as he silently follows Jimmy to the cargo hold. As Jimmy roots around, Daniel corners him, confronts him, and attacks him. This ends poorly, because despite getting a hit in, Daniel is weaker and smaller than Jimmy, so Jimmy throws him off and takes the hammer. At this point, Jimmy sees Daniel as a threat, and chases after him, as Daniel runs. Daniel flees up the staircase to the upper catwalks in the cargo hold, but Jimmy catches up with him, and they tussle until Jimmy throws Daniel against one of the railings of the catwalk (which are probably damaged from the crash, if not already old and creaky). The railing pops, and leaves Daniel lying across it, halfway suspended over the massive drop to the ground. There’s a tense moment of silence, both afraid to move, but Daniel reaches out a shaky hand, silently asking for help, for Jimmy to not let him fall. Jimmy thinks about it, but he ultimately stays still, and ignores his plea. After a few more moments, Daniel shifts, the last bolt pops, and he falls to the ground. Jimmy continues on, cue the scary ass horse segment, and then finally gets his hands on the mouthwash. When he circles back on the ground floor, he comes across Daniel’s body. He’s broken and bloody, but he’s alive, his breaths wheezing and pained. Daniel snapped his spine, broke several bones, even suffering from globe luxation on his right side (eye popped out of socket from blunt force). He was paralyzed and freezing, and Jimmy delivers a speech that parallels Swansea’s speech to Daisuke before killing him. However, instead of killing Daniel, Jimmy’s idea of mercy is to leave him alive. Daniel was alive for hours, in excruciating pain, until he eventually succumbed to a mix of hypothermia and blood loss. The cargo holds of most aircrafts and ships aren’t exactly kept up to the same living standards/temperatures as the rest of the inhabited areas, and I don’t think Pony Express would shell out the money for the fuel or system to head the massive cargo hold, so it’s probably nearly freezing in there, especially since they’re in the middle of space.

(Symbolism and other rambling) 

OKAY FINALLY I CAN TALK ABOUT THIS. First starting with the big idea, Daniel’s family back home is represented in his relationship with Anya, Jimmy, and Curly. Jimmy represents his father, while both Anya and Curly represent his mother in different ways. Anya symbolizes his mother as a victim, and Curly is his mother as a guardian. As a victim, Daniel heavily empathizes with his mother, he sees himself in her suffering and isolation, it’s the part of his mother he jumped to defend. On the other hand, Daniel is furious with his mother as a guardian, as he is with Curly. His mother stayed with his father, she allowed the abuse to continue for years, decades, she prolonged the cycle, just like how Curly enabled Jimmy. He expected protection, but Curly allowed Jimmy to fester, he allowed him to get away with assaulting Anya, he allowed the very obvious signs that Jimmy was also beginning to target Daniel, grooming him to be an emotional feed, someone to fulfill his desire to feel important. Yet, again, Daniel can’t help but relate to that, being trapped by a narcissist that used him as a feed.

Going back to Jimmy, he treats Daniel almost exactly how his father used to treat him, which is why he so readily fell into that dynamic. When Daniel isn’t fawning over Jimmy, Jimmy despises how much Daniel defends Anya, seeing that relationship as Anya coercing Danny as a pawn, a hint of Jimmy not granting Daniel humanity or autonomy, just a tool, or a pet. Also the familial connection between Anya and Daniel, as well as Curly and Daniel, draws into the fact that Daniel himself was also the product of rape. Anya’s maternal role with Danny connects with her own pregnancy, and Curly representing the unborn fetus (something entirely dependent on Anya to survive), also ties to Daniel. Daniel sees himself in Curly, in the continuance of the cycle of abuse, in being a child conceived from rape. His anger towards Curly loops right back around to being a metaphorical hatred of himself, of his position in the cycle, and his existence as a rape baby. It’s solidified with the position of Jimmy as his metaphorical father, while also being Anya’s rapist. Additionally, “Rosalyn”, Daniel’s dead name, means something along the lines of “gentle” or “tender horse”. “Tender” and “gentle” are both a reference to the identity of a victim being forced on him, as well as being raised a woman, having the stereotypical gender roles of a woman forced onto him as well. The “horse” part also draws back to the horse fetus in the game being a symbol of Anya’s pregnancy, and therefore, tying Daniel again to being a child of rape. Daniel himself feels immense guilt for his own conception, he feels like he ruined his mother’s life, that he’s a walking reminder of cruelty and abuse, and therefore also uses his relationship with Jimmy as a form of punishment for himself. He feels like he needs to atone for existing, for being the outcome of something so awful, so that’s another reason why he hates himself (and Curly by that metaphorical connection) so much.

Another massive part of his symbolism is the image of a dog. His relationship with Jimmy, as described earlier, was that of a pet, a lapdog, something stupidly loyal and desperate for attention and praise. It also tells how Jimmy viewed Daniel not as a person, but as something below him, something to train and direct. He never granted Daniel autonomy or humanity, seeing his actions as either directed from Jimmy himself or Anya’s “coercion”. Then there’s also the position of Daniel being a guard dog for Anya, taking the brunt of Jimmy’s abuse (with varying success) on sheer instinct, because that’s how he was trained. 

There’s also Laika, the soviet space dog, which I’m sure many have heard the story before but I’ll explain it anyway for the sake of continuity. Laika was the first living animal to orbit the earth, but when the scientists sent her up, they never had intentions of getting her back down. She ended up dying in space after two or so orbits, the cabin of the spacecraft overheating, then plummeting back to earth, disintegrating and landing in the ocean. Daniel is tied to this concept of Laika, such as sacrificing himself for a sort of martyrdom, being sent up into space with no real plan for coming back down, since he boarded the Tulpar to escape his house, and didn’t really plan for anything else in the future. I also have the idea that, despite being tied so heavily with the idea of Laika, Curly is the one that receives the name for her (Laika was also called Curly by the scientists), because Daniel was not given the liberty to die with his own name. Those who knew him on earth will not remember him as Daniel, just like despite leaning into Laika’s symbolism, he isn’t granted the identity. 

Daniel’s whole death sequence is supposed to be a metaphor for him trying to break the cycle, to confront his trauma with his own father, but ultimately failing. A lot of Daniel’s character is connected to the concept of cycles, even in his design. The ring necklace being a circle, the ouroboros graphic on his band t-shirt he wears pre-crash, are also references to repeating cycles. That death sequence, if you think about it, is also a circle. He confronts Jimmy on the ground, is chased up the catwalks, only to fall right back down to the ground, where he started. Just like how an abusive relationship circles back around, Daniel reached out to Jimmy again as he was about to fall, about to repeat the cycle of repulsion and attraction, etc. 

In general, I guess I can say that Daniel’s story is a narrative about how refusing to confront his own trauma and fight back against it ultimately lead to him repeating it till death. Also, the concept of Daniel being paralyzed and freezing to death is another reference to his repetition of cycles, he was too cemented, “frozen”, “paralyzed” in his own trauma responses that he never changed at all. 

(More things I can’t think of where to sandwich them)

Daniel changes appearance from pre to post-crash. Covering himself with the boiler suit is a visual cue to him retreating in on himself, guarding himself, including the medical gloves. Also, the uniform doesn’t fit him, it’s too tight, a reference to the constricting feeling of having an identity that doesn’t fit him forced onto him. Also probably says something about how Pony Express did not consider him when providing the uniform.

Daniel wants to be a vet, and is taking a gap year in order to do the internship on the Tulpar.

He has cats, and often misses them.

He draws on Anya’s sticky notes in the med bay, Anya has a love-hate relationship with that habit. She likes his doodles, but she only has so many sticky notes

Daniel is only afraid of Anya when the board games come out.

He is afraid of heights.

He tried the mouthwash once, got violently ill, and then immediately wallowed in guilt over the fact that Anya had to use some medical supplies on him. He then vowed to never touch it again.

Radiohead fan. (derogatory)

I have a spotify playlist for him that is 10 hours long

OOhhh my god that took so so so long. Anyway I hope any of this made sense like even a little bit. Comments and questions appreciated if you got this far :3

Anyway, he's my single celled organism that I smash flat with a coffee mug all the time.

[deepestnightcolor]

Hello again! I absolutely LOVED 'eggs', made my heart swoon for alex even more❤️

I was wondering if you would put the idea that I've been thinking of a while now into a fic, obviously do not have too❤️❤️

So I was thinking that, with how alex kind of checks Hailey out in some of Dialogue and can see that their the stereotypical 'jock x cheerleader' dynamic, but when starts noticing his little quips, they get jealous of his compliments, as they deeply like Alex, but he hasn't noticed.

So reader has the brilliant idea(not really) to make him jealous of them, so they go flirt with someone (could be anyone) and alex obviously gets upset, so when reader comes home, disappointed that alex didn't do anything. BOOM, big knock at the door, and they open it, and big surprise, it's alex, dripping with rain and just tackles the reader to make some good old jealousy sex, the rough type😍😍

(Preferreablely female reader, please❤️❤️)

Hopefully, your day is going well. Keeping hydrated, LOVE YOUR FICSSS like they are my fuel💀❤️

ᴀ/ɴ: There we fucking go, Alex has found you~ I hope this fuels you for another few weeks ;)

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Alex x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2934 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: jealousy sex, flirting, oral, unprotected sex, cursing, spanking

☾ ʟᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ᴄᴏᴏᴋ ☽

It always tickled you in all the wrong places, but it was understandable, really. Who would have liked to hear their crush checking out another woman?

“iF yOu SeE HaYlEy TeLl HeR I aM bUsY,” you mocked in an over-exaggerated voice as you kicked a rock, making your way back over to Sam who had comfortably stretched out on a beach towel. “Whaddup, sunshine?” He asked with a grin, one eye lazily opening to look up at you. “Men suck,” you snarled back, plopping down next to him with crossed arms, a pout on your face. “Aw, come on now,” he laughed, patting your knee before closing his eyes again. “Just because Alex is a little dense sometimes-“ “How do you know this is about Alex?” you scoffed, the pout on your lips only intensifying. “Hm…Lemme think. Maybe because you just talked to him and stomped over her like a toddler throwing a tantrum? Ooooor, maybe, just maybe, ‘cause I own two eyes that can see that fuckin’ obvious crush you’ve got going on, so…” A sigh left your lips as you fell back, rubbing over your face. “Yeah, sorry,” you murmured, a shameful blush spreading on your cheeks. “It just- you know, it sucks so bad that you go over to someone and flirt with them, just to talk about another girl! I mean, I’d get if he just wasn’t interested in me, but sometimes he has the audacity to flirt back!”

The blond next to you chuckled, his hands behind his head. Lazy days with Sam usually calmed you, but today, Alex only riled you up. And you had been so confident today! Striding towards him in your cute new bikini, flashing him the prettiest smile! And he-  “So you are jealous,” Sam stated, so matter-of-fact that it made you want to pinch his side. “Well…maybe.” “So…Catch his attention?” “I am trying, Samson! I am trying really hard here!” Sam sighed, raising his brow. “Is he looking?” “What?” “You heard me. Is he looking?” You glanced over your shoulder, and much to your surprise, Alex was looking in your direction, giving you a small wave. “Yeah, why?” “Alright, I am going to pull you down to me now. Just play along.” And really, seconds later, a long arm snaked around your waist, pulling you down and into his side. He helped you rest your head on his shoulder, lazily playing with your hair. If you hadn’t been so upset from before, you’d have actually enjoyed this. You sighed as your cheek rested on his skin, warm from the sun, moody ego slowly being soothed. “Is he still lookin’?” Sam asked, making you glance up. And yeah, there he was, arms crossed, face closed off. His whole body language seemed tense all of a sudden, making you hum. “Staring.” “Good,” Sam hummed, pulling you a little closer, “let him cook, then.”

Maybe the two of you had put on a little show for Alex. Cuddling at the beach, cracking jokes as you packed up because the sky had been darkening, playfully shoving one another as you walked past Alex. Just to add a little on the image, you waved sweetly at him, before resting your head back on Sam’s shoulder. “Do you think that worked?” You asked, feeling the first raindrop imploding on your skin. “You will figure out soon enough,” the blond laughed, ruffling your hair as your ways parted. Oh well, you knew that had been childish, but you just- it had felt cathartic to give Alex a taste of his own medicine, even if it wasn’t going to bare any fruit.

Heaven had just started to flood the town when you entered your home, dropping your beach bag in the entryway without a second thought. Your sour mood had turned more positive thanks to Sam, but still, the ugly pit of jealousy had rooted in your stomach, making your head reel. How could Alex be so nonchalant about all of this? One day he was flirting heavily with you, the next he talked about Hayley. In all fairness, you had to admit – they’d make a sweet couple. A classic one; the cheerleader and the jock dynamic matched to a t. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting, though.

You sighed, about to take off the thin robe you had thrown over your body on your way home when you heard thunder rumbling in the distance, the grey sky darkening your house. The air was thick and humid, making it feel harder to breathe all of a sudden. How could such nice weather turn into this dark, gloomy threat within mere moments? You shuddered despite the heaviness in the air, about to step away from the door to be able to snuggle up on your couch when you heard a knock on the door. Your head tilted to the side – who in their right mind had made their way over in this weather? The rain was pounding on your roof – it must have been almost painful to trek over here. Maybe Sam had forgotten something?

You hadn’t expected to open the door to Alex, absolutely drenched and panting heavily. “Alex- What are you-“ There was no time for you to finish the question as you were pushed backward, the muscular man kicking the door shut behind him. “What do you think that was, huh?” He almost snarled, brown hair that was usually carefully styled sticking to his face, water drops running down his tense face. “What do you-“ “Cuddling up with Sam, huh? Almost eye fucking one another,” he snarled, body language on the verge of being threatening as he stepped toward you, his long fingers wrapping around your chin. “Clinging to him in that skimpy little bikini,” he scoffed, free hand snapping the strap of your bikini top against your shoulder, “after flirting with me. After prancing around in front of me. After making me all hard.” “Alex, it wasn’t-“ “Shut up,” he gasped out, pulling you close and letting your lips collide in an almost aggressive kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips as he pressed you into his wet body. You couldn’t help yourself, moan slipping into his mouth as if it had been pre-destined, your body almost immediately giving into him.

He guided you forward with the strength of his body, hands on your hips, tugging, no, ripping at the hem of your bikini bottom snapping the elastic back against the squish of your hips. “Wasn’t like that, huh?” He hissed; tongues still connected by a string of saliva. “‘Course it wasn’t.” You wanted to respond, you had it all sorted out in your mind, but then the fat of his lips met your neck, gently kissing at the skin before he sucked it into his mouth greedily, hips bucking forward, allowing you to feel the bulge that had formed in his wet trunks. And Yoba, how good it felt. Absolutely perfect, perfect enough to make you forget about your intentions, about how you wanted to throw in his face that you had wanted to give him a taste of what he had been doing to you – it simply didn’t matter anymore. Not with his cock grinding against you through the nylon of your swimwear.

“That’s better, isn’t it, babe? Better than messing around with Sam, right?” It was a snarl, as threatening as the thunder hanging in the sky as he urged you toward the couch, your body buckling into it as soon as the back of your knees hit it. “Yes,” you croaked, eyes meeting his darkened green ones. Poor Sam, not even there and still thrown under the bus.

Alex hummed, his face softening just a tad as he hovered over you, his thumbs hooking in the waistband of his swimming trunks, lowering just enough to reveal his hip bones, just enough to show off the head of his dick. Your mouth watered, fingers fidgeting as the need to touch him arose, but Alex was quicker. “Turn around. Hands and knees. Be my good girl now,” he cooed, voice soft enough to soothe your anxieties but stern enough to make you obey immediately.

“Look ahead,” the athlete added, and you could hear something wet drop onto the floor. The image of his cock springing free popped up in your head, making you sigh in despair. Yoba, how you wanted to see him, take it in. But you had played with fire, and now had to live with the consequences. Not that you minded. Not when his fingers slipped your bottoms to the side. Not when you felt a tongue take a long drag through your folds. Your hands automatically curled into the cushion of your couch, eyes drifting shut as his tongue lapped at you. “So sweet,” Alex breathed, tongue lapping at your sweet juices. His lips wrapped around your folds, giving them a light suckle. Yoba, you tasted heavenly. Heavenly enough for him to almost forgiving you pressing into Sam’s side, but only almost. His hands gripped your thighs, forcing them to spread wider, wanting more access for his face to nuzzle into your wet, tongue greedily lapping up the nectar you gave him, eyes closed in bliss. And oh, how your sweet little clit throbbed whenever his tongue threatened to touch it, how you whined when he ran it back down just moments before it actually came in contact with it.

“Alex,” you groaned out, voice a lot more whiny than it had been before, hips grinding back against him, just to be rewarded with a rough smack on your ass. “Impatient little slut,” he growled, sitting up on the armrest, leaving your pussy all cold and drooling. “You know, I think…I think I should mark you up,” he rasped, licking his lips when he saw the reddened skin from where his big hand had landed. “Make you smell like me. Maybe it will keep others away from you.” Another smack to your ass, rougher than before, but this time, his thumb smoothed over the stinging skin. “I think that would be good, actually. What do you think, babe? Do you like the idea?” His hips bucked forward again, tip catching the wetness his tongue had hungrily licked up just moments ago. Your mouth worked to press out an answer, but Alex proved himself to be impatient. The tip of his dick, fat and heavy, pressed against your twitchy entrance, threatening to bully into you. But at last, Alex halted, his hands placing firmly on your hips, thumb pressing in the skin so hard they ought to leave marks. But he had to ground himself, had to hold on to you to keep steady, otherwise your sweet, drooling cunt would have been too much of a temptation. Wouldn’t have allowed him to keep back, not with how your hips pushed back, grinding ever so slightly in search for friction, and he had to hold back– just for a moment longer, he hoped. “You okay with this-“ “Fuck! Get a hint and DO it already, you dense donkey!” you called out, frustrations you had been feeling at the beach resurfacing, spilling out in that weak insult, tickling a laugh out of Alex. Dense donkey, huh? He would give you “dense donkey”.

His hips shoved forward, sinking his dick about halfway in in one, smooth, powerful thrust. It made you cry out, your back arching inward as your cunt worked on adapting to the perverted shaft stretching you wide. “Yoba, you are so fuckin’ wet, babe. Did Sam get you riled up like this, huh?” The jealousy pooling in his stomach made his jaw clench, hips pushing forward when you didn’t answer – he had given you the option to answer, you had failed to deliver. But it  was him who got to fuck you now, not Sam. Him that would fill you to the brim, over and over, not Sam. And then, there it was. Your head, shaking ever so slightly in response to his question, answering with actions instead of words, leading the grip on your hips to ease up a little. That was his girl, wasn’t that right? But still, he couldn’t let you off the hook so easily, not with how you had behaved. He waited for your cunt to stop clenching around him so much before he slowly pulled back, making you whine at the empty feeling he left behind as only his tip was resting within you. With a rough shove, however, he bottomed out inside of you, making you gasp out his name. Yoba, didn’t you sound angelic? He wished you could have looked at your cunt and how greedily it swallowed all of him, drooling all over his skin. He wasn’t much better in that regard, drops of pre-cum mixing with your delicious wetness. But fuck, you were so wet, and sweet, and your squishy walls-

His head fell back as he groaned out, eyes squeezing shut as he let the feeling of you being filled to the brim by him sink in. He had dreamed of you quite often already, sometimes even fucked his fist with your name on his lips, but this – this was much better than anything his brain could have come up with. “Look at that pretty little cunt,” he sighed, pulling out again, just to fill you back up. He adapted a slow pace, pulling out until only the tip was remaining, just to bottom out within you. Every damn time he fucked you full you were sure you were going to rip, and fuck, you wanted to rip for him. Wanted him as deep as humanly possible, just- needed him. Alex’s clenched his jaw again, biting down on his lower lip as he took in how your whole body was forced forward with each thrust, moaning at how you greedily sucked him in, how your cunt clenched when he was just about to slip out in an attempt to keep him in. He loved how he made you feel every single damn centimetre, and you took it all, moaning his name with breathless begs, panting like a bitch in heat beneath him. He really wanted to keep up this torturing pace, wanted to keep teasing you, edging you along slowly, but he just couldn’t- not when he could have more of these sounds.

His hips picked up in their pace, fucking into you much faster now, not taking the time to pull out almost completely. However, the force of his thrusts didn’t lessen, quite the opposite. Fucking into you hard enough to elicit the sound of skin smacking against skin, compelling your poor pussy to squelch as his tip bullied into you, bumping against your greedy, soft walls. His hand reached forward to hold onto your shoulder, the other still holding onto your hip. “Tell me, love. Do ya like this? Bein’ fucked on the couch like a dirty little slut? Huh? Do ya like bein’ fucked by me?” As if to underline the sentiment, his hips snapped deeply inside of you, pounding as deep inside of you as he could, using your hips as leverage to pull you against him. A mumbled “yes” slipped from you, accompanied by the moans Alex’s rough treatment tickled out of you, making him laugh a little breathlessly.  “Didn’t hear you, babe. Say that again. Come on, scream it out for me,” he urged, his balls pulling tight when he heard a sob coming from you. Must have hit a good spot, huh? He angled his hips differently, now attacking the spot that had made you sob for him, grinning to himself when your moans picked up in volume. “Baaaabe~” he hissed, groaning out your name. “Tell. Me.” Two especially hard thrusts into the spot followed his words, making your whole body quiver. “Yes, Alex!” “Yes what?” He snarled, smacking your butt twice. “I love being fucked by you!” “That’s my girl,” he gasped, eyes squeezing shut when you clenched around him once more. You were driving him crazy, right up the wall, balls feeling incredibly tight as he neared his orgasm. “Who do you belong to, little bitch?” He cooed in your ear, biting the lobe, suckling a hickey into the skin just below. “Y-y-you- I- am gonna-“ “You gonna cum for me, yeah? Do it. Make me smell like you.” His hand gripped strands of your hair to pull your head back, not wanting to allow you to moan into your pillow. He wanted to hear you, have those pretty sounds all for himself while his tip abused that sweet spot inside of you. You squeaked as your body tensed, toes curling as the first orgasm of the night wrecked through you, juices leaking over Alex’s fat, throbbing cock. Yoba, he would make you lick him clean later, you’d look so good with his dick pressing against your tongue- A groan left him, spasming cunt massaging his already aching dick. He was gonna cum, and he was gonna cum soon.

“Fuck, babe!” He hissed when his orgasm came over him, ropes of white painting your walls. You moaned at the feeling, but the sound shifted into a whine when Alex all of a sudden pulled out, jerking his dick with wet clicks. Hot semen landed on your ass, your back, your shoulders. “looks beautiful,” he gasped, tightening his fist around his throbbing shaft, cum now covering the back of your thighs as well. His hips bucked forward as he milked his cock, pushing his tip against your folds against, watching your cum mix together. “All…fucking…mine,” he gasped, suddenly leaning forward. “How’s that taste of your medicine?”

[teamred]

re: your tags - I am dying to know about your Wade’s sister!reader x Logan fic, omg that sounds so fun 👀💖

-@eupheme

omg hi j!!! @eupheme (gonna tag you in case the ask post doesn't do it)

i actually have two wade's sister!reader x logan fics in the works! i hope you don't mind me sharing both~

the one i was referring to in my tags is called "dusk till dawn".

summary: vanessa is kidnapped, so while wade runs off to save her, he assigns logan to be reader's bodyguard. however, they don't get along, but they start to fall for each other over time.

it'd be a road trip/motel hopping au with lots of banter, sharing one bed, tension, angst, and steamy moments of course 👀

i'm taking inspiration from some of the moments with logan and mariko from the wolverine (2013) movie!

i'd love to share snippets, but it's really in the draft stages right now!!

second fic i have is called "can't help myself" (title tentatitive)

summary: wade only has one rule for logan: his sister is completely off-limits. but of course, logan never plays by the rules, and you couldn't give two shits about what your dumb-ass brother says.

this one would be more of a fun fic!! just like messing with wade but also having fun with logan and lowkey falling for him too

lots of dialogue, especially with wade, smut, fluff, etc. just a vibes fic

wouldn't be as long as the other fic - i wrote quite a bit for this already! here's a snippet of the intro:

“Don't look at her,” Wade paces around his apartment’s living room, listing the things Logan, his new roommate, should avoid when he meets his sister tomorrow. “Don't breathe in her presence, don't even think about her, and especially don't—” 

“What, ya gonna tell me I can’t fuck her next?” Logan cuts in with an amused chuckle, reclining on the living room couch with a hand above his head. 

“Yes, bingo!” Wade exclaims, pointing at him excitedly. “Exactly that, you geriatric sexy vampire. Or should I technically say vampire hunter?” He pauses, wondering for a moment. 

“Anyways,” he continues, “you can have any woman you want in this new universe—hell, I’ll cry my heart out every night after my evening jerk-off seshes, but you can even have Vanessa—but my sister? We’re gonna have a repeat of the Honda Odyssey fight, Wolvie, and that won’t be a pretty sight to see.” 

“Okay,” Logan replies, getting up from the couch and heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll make sure to fuck your sister until she forgets the fact that she's your sister. Got it.” 

“Hey!” Wade smacks him on the back as he’s bent over, trying to grab a beer from the fridge. A low growl escapes from him. “I’m being serious here.” 

“When are you ever serious?” Logan asks, popping off the beer cap with his thumb. 

“Now! I am being serious now.” Wade’s voice rises before he takes a second to compose himself, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly. Logan watches him carefully, sipping his beer. 

“Please, Logan,” he barely whispers, avoiding eye contact. 

The silence, punctuated only by Logan’s sipping, feels uncomfortable and heavy. Finally, Logan lets out a sigh.

“Fine,” he grunts. “I won’t get involved with your sister.” 

Wade breaks into a relieved smile and extends his pinky. “You promise?” 

Despite Logan rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he ends up hooking his pinky around Wade’s, sealing the deal.

Except Wade doesn’t see Logan’s other hand behind his back, with his middle and index fingers crossed over another.

[yumeka-sxf]

Spy x Family CODE: White - FULL MOVIE SUMMARY [SPOILERS]

Now that I've finally read through the entire novelization of CODE: White, I'm ready to share a full summary of everything that happens - basically spoil the whole movie for those interested 😅

But before I get to the summary, a few notes:

I didn't translate every line from the novelization as that would have taken way too long. I go into more detail for scenes I was particularly interested in (like Twiyor scenes), or scenes that were easy to translate. But I still made sure to mention everything that's important to the story. If I gloss over some parts more than others, it's either because they were difficult to translate, or I didn't think they were that important. But even so, the "summary" still ended up being way longer than I anticipated!

I have not seen the movie myself yet, so everything in the summary below is based on the novelization only (of which there were two versions released, with slight differences between them). Obviously the novelization is an accurate adaptation, but there is a chance that a few things are different between the novelization and the actual movie, and/or the novelization may have left out some dialogue or minor scenes.

And lastly, it goes without saying but BEWARE OF MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW! Not only that, but please be considerate of where you share these spoilers. Remember to properly tag this post if you reblog it and think twice before you share any of this information on other social media. Most people don't want to be spoiled to this degree!

Again MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW!

The movie starts with an introduction to the characters – we see Twilight carrying out a mission where he has to disguise himself as someone's wife. Meanwhile, Yor is doing an assassination mission. They both come home at the same time and are greeted by Anya. Bond has a vision of Anya and Loid getting sick from Yor's cooking, so Anya suggests that Loid cook instead.

At Eden, Henderson tells the students about the cooking contest and how the principal will be the judge. Loid is on the roof, reading Henderson's lips. A falcon flies overhead and drops him a note with an F cipher. He goes to meet with Sylvia at one of the WISE hideouts. She informs him that she has another big mission for him, but when he objects that he couldn't take on something so big in the midst of Operation Strix, she hands him a photo of a man and child. She explains that the man is Major Depple of the Army Intelligence Department who has a lot of important people backing him, and since they hadn't made enough progress with Operation Strix, the higher-ups decided to pass it onto him.

As Loid leaves, he bumps into Fiona. Her hat gets blown away with the wind and he reaches to catch it, just as Yor and her coworkers are across the street. From where Yor sees them, it looks like Loid is kissing "the mysterious woman." Loid and Fiona have a fake conversation – he compliments her hat, she says it was made overseas, etc – while they're actually doing their secret "spy talk" (like they did when she first visited him at home). He tells her what's happening with Operation Strix, and she tells him that she had tried to warn him that it shouldn't have been left up to ordinary citizens who don't know anything, and that she should take on the wife role. Meanwhile, Camilla and co. tell Yor about the three signs of cheating: one, an increase in travelling; two, a change in clothing taste (to match the taste of his new lover); and three, suddenly giving gifts (because he feels guilty).

Later that evening, Yor is still feeling anxious about Loid's possible "lover." When Anya gets home, she tells them about the cooking competition. Loid recalls from his data that the principal's favorite is the melemele pastry. If Anya could get a stella from the competition, that could help get him back into Operation Strix. He says that he read in the school newspaper that the melemele in Frejis is supposedly the best, so they should go there and try it for themselves via a family vacation over the weekend. Yor thinks back to the "increase in travelling" sign of cheating that Camilla told her about. Loid tells her that only families are allowed at the Frejis restaurant they're headed to, so she decides to go, though she's still conflicted about whether this is actually a sign of cheating or not.

They have some family time on the train to Frejis, though Loid still makes Anya study. They play cards and get food (Anya has a corn dog, Yor has a sandwich, Loid has a hamburger). After coming back from the bathroom, Anya notices a key by one of the sinks. Bond is with her, and through him she sees a vision of the future – in the vision, she goes to car 8 and opens a trunk with the key while overhearing two men mention that it's a key to a treasure of the Republic.

Back in the train car, Loid brings up Anya's terrible handwriting while Yor mentions that they had practiced handwriting the other day. Loid says that Yor's motherly side is really coming out, which causes Yor to get flustered and makes her think that it's not her skills as a mother he could be dissatisfied with but perhaps her skills as a wife. She gets even more flustered when she notices a couple across the way kissing and starts nervously moving her lips, to which Loid asks if something's wrong. She stammers that her lipstick didn't warm up and is itchy, then says she's going to look for Anya since she's taking a long time.

Meanwhile, Anya and Bond find the luggage compartment and locate the trunk from Bond's vision. When Anya goes to grab it, Bond tries to stop her. At first she thinks that she shouldn't just do whatever she wants with other people's stuff, but then she remembers that the men in the vision said it was a treasure of the Republic, a treasure that could possibly help achieve world peace. She opens the trunk and is disappointed to find just a chocolate in it. But when she hears the two men, Domitri and Luca, open the door, she gets startled and accidently knocks the chocolate out of the trunk. It bounces off of Bond's nose, and when she tries to grab it, it falls into her mouth. She hides when Luca and Domitri come in to look for the trunk.

They describe the ship sticker on it, and when they find that it's been opened and the chocolate stolen, they say they're going to kill whoever took it so the secret won't get out. When Anya accidently makes a noise, the men take notice. Domitri takes a flower out of his pocket and points it towards the dim light in the car, saying that his "flower fortune telling" will tell him who's hiding. They then notice Anya escaping into car 7 and give chase. They lock her in car 6, but when she starts screaming for Papa and Mama, Yor breaks open the locked door. She asks Anya who the two men are and Anya says that they're chocolate thieves who were being mean to her. Yor beats them up (after telling Anya to cover her eyes) just as the train arrives at Frejis station (Anya seems to feel bad that she sicced Yor on them when she was the actual chocolate thief). When they get off the train, Loid says that they should start heading to their destination (as Yor starts building a snowman). After they get their luggage and leave, Luca and Domitri emerge from the car they were in and say they need to contact the colonel.

The shop that has the melemele is called "Restaurant Rubble and Bonds." Since pets aren't allowed in the restaurant, they leave Bond outside when they go inside to eat. After ordering food along with the melemele, the waitress tells them that they're getting the last melemele. Bond watches them from the window, but then a waitress comes over and feeds him the special pet plate, which he happily eats. As the Forgers are eating, Loid tells Anya that she shouldn't eat with her hands, and that using a knife and fork are proper manners. Yor watches and notices the turtleneck sweater Loid is wearing, which makes her realize it's something that he never wears. She then thinks of Camilla's second sign of cheating, a change in clothing taste. The chef comes over and tells them how the war in Frejis was mostly fought in the sky, and the aircraft displayed at the front of the station belonged to a two-man team famous for shooting down planes during the war.

There's a brief scene where Yuri overhears his coworkers at the SSS talking about Frejis, and he of course wants to go since he knows Yor is there now. But the boss won't let him, so he makes a bit of a scene.

Back at the restaurant, the chef continues to talk about the war and how he lost everything at that time. His decision behind making a restaurant catering to families was so people could experience the homemade food that he remembered his mom used to make. Loid can't help but relate the chef's backstory to his own. The melemele is finally ready and brought to the table.

Just as Anya is about to dig in, Colonel Snidel and some other soldiers enter the restaurant. The waitress and chef try to tell them that only families are allowed, but Snidel says that the military have authority in this area, even when it comes to food, and could close down the restaurant if they wanted to. They order the melemele, and when they're told that there isn't any left, one of the soldiers takes the melemele from Anya. Loid politely tells the soldiers that his daughter was really looking forward to eating it and if they could possibly order a different dessert. Snidel asks if they're tourists that came here to eat the melemele. Loid replies that they travel around trying delicious food. Snidel challenges Loid to a competition – if Loid wins, he'll give them back the melemele. The competition involves trying the three cakes that were placed on the table and correctly naming every type of sugar in them. Even though Loid correctly names them, Snidel also mentions the exact number of grams, making his answers the most accurate. Everyone's bummed that Loid lost, but he says that they could try coming back again. However, the chef tells them that they won't have more until Monday, which is when the Forgers have to be back in Berlint for the cooking competition. Yor asks the chef that if they provide their own ingredients, would he make it for them, and he agrees.

The Forgers go to the Frejis marketplace to get the ingredients from the list that the chef provided. Having already memorized the list, Loid moves at super speed to every shop and quickly finds most of the ingredients. When he goes looking for the orange syrup, a man from a cosmetic shop asks if he'll buy one of the many lipsticks there for his wife. He picks one out, mentioning how back on the train Yor had said that her lipstick wasn't working out and if this one is a nice color. She's embarrassed at first, but then agrees that it's a nice color and accepts…but then she's reminded of Camilla's last sign of cheating: suddenly giving a gift (meanwhile Loid is just thinking how putting on the happy couple appearance is part of the mission). With all three signs of cheating having taken place, Yor says that she's going to the bathroom and dejectedly walks away. Loid wonders if she's just tired from the trip and if she'll be okay. Anya then calls Loid over to a shooting game booth that has the orange syrup as one of the prizes. After attempting the game and failing, Anya reads the booth owner's mind and realizes it's rigged. Loid gets suspicious as well and is able to masterfully shoot down the orange syrup while also exposing the owner's scam.

Loid is ready to look for the last ingredient, but then Anya runs off to ride the mini train. Yor rejoins them, having put on the lipstick while she was in the bathroom. Loid says it suits her and asks if she'd like to get a drink somewhere. They go to a café booth where Loid orders coffee. But Yor, thinking how she needs to confirm the whole cheating thing with Loid and can't open up without the help of alcohol, orders several cups of heated wine. She finally gets drunk enough to ask Loid if he has a lover.

From the train, Anya looks over to see Yor grab Loid's scarf and pull him to the ground. Anya freaks out about "Papa and Mama flirting." They're both on the ground now, with Yor hovering over Loid before she finally passes out. She wakes up on a bench, where Loid asks if she's okay. She apologizes for what she did, but thinks that Loid will definitely want a divorce after what happened. When Anya reads her mind, she thinks of what Becky told her about divorces and how they cause families to fall apart. She then hears the ferris wheel attendant calling for people to ride, saying that it'll be a happy, "flirty" experience. Anya tells Loid and Yor that she wants to ride the ferris wheel, but then ushers them onto the gondola without joining them, much to their surprise. She tells them to get "flirty," to Loid's dismay. Yor tells Bond to look after Anya.

Yor realizes that she must look really bleak right now and it's making Anya worry. Loid asks if she's okay and she again apologizes for her behavior earlier. Loid replies that she's been acting weird for a while, causing Yor to finally admit that she saw him with his "lover"…someone with a large hat. Tears start welling in her eyes, so she covers her face with her hands to hide them. Realizing that the person she's referring to was Fiona, Loid explains that she wasn't a lover, just someone who needed directions to the art museum. Feeling embarrassed about her mistake, Yor looks away from Loid and out the window. She sees Anya and Bond below, the former waving happily at her. Yor waves back before mentioning if Loid could want a divorce, to which he light-heartily replies "no way." Yor says that she's lacking in a lot of ways, not just as a mother but as Loid's wife. Loid then takes her hands in his, looks straight into her eyes and reminds her of the promise he made via their marriage proposal.

He says the marriage vows again before stating that he has no intention of breaking his promise. As Loid gets closer to her, Yor's face reddens and her heart races until she finally breaks – she smacks Loid on the cheek, sending him flying out of the gondola (which had reached the ground). But he adjusts himself in midair and lands gracefully on his feet. Yor grabs their belongings from the gondola and hurries out. Upon seeing Loid's swollen cheek, Anya panics that Papa and Mama were fighting and the Forger family is over. Loid and Yor object to this, with Loid saying that they weren't fighting. Anya then says that they were flirting, but they object to that as well, faces red with embarrassment. Anya just grins at them.

The clock tower bell chimes, signaling 5 o' clock. When Loid muses that it got so late already, Yor apologizes that it was due to her passing out from drinking too much. Loid asks if she and Anya will go back to the hotel while he gets the remaining ingredient, cherry liquor. He thinks to himself how it's something rare that would not likely be sold at a store, so he'd have to get it through illegal means, which means that Yor and Anya can't accompany him.

Snidel gets out of his military vehicle in front of a flying battleship. He's greeted by several soldiers who tell him that route negotiations with the Arbo Republic have ended and adjustments to Type F have been completed. Snidel suddenly shoots and kills one of the operations leaders, claiming he's a traitor who leaked military information to WISE. Luca and Domitri then arrive and inform him that the microfilm was eaten.

Meanwhile, Sylvia meets with a bunch of WISE agents at their Berlint hideout. She tells them that they lost contact with their Frejis agent, suspecting that Snidel has taken action. She says that if the microfilm reaches the Arbo Republic, it could lead to an all-out war between the East and West. She doesn't think their agent had gotten the microfilm, but she knows Twilight is currently in Frejis, so he may be their only hope. She orders a couple of the male agents to meet with Twilight at Frejis and get the microfilm. However, Fiona interrupts and requests that Sylvia leave the mission to her instead. Sylvia objects, but Fiona is already leaving the room and on her way, thinking over and over to herself "A mission with senpai, a mission with senpai, a mission with senpai…"

Back at Frejis, Loid looks everywhere for the cherry liquor – he sneaks into a moonshine factory and even the wine cellar of a wealthy man, but still can't find it. He calls Franky at his tabacco shop in Berlint, inadvertently interrupting Franky's flirting with a pretty girl. He asks Franky if he can get the cherry liquor and that he needs it by tomorrow morning. Franky says he'll try but it would take him half a day to even get to Frejis, but Loid had already hung up.

At the hotel, Yor unpacks while Anya admires the hotel amenities ("Hotel TV!" "Hotel toilet!" "Hotel bed!") She then takes her toys out of her bag – among them are crayons, a sketchbook, a rubber duckie, and a toy gun. She pretends to shoot Bond with the gun, then points the gun at Yor and asks if she's the "boss." At first Yor is uneasy about partaking in Anya's game, but then she gives in and pretends to be the boss who wants the treasure. This makes Anya even more fired up and she says "Let's battle, polite lady boss!" The three of them continue playing.

Loid returns to the hotel and finds Anya's drawings of the ferris wheel and shooting game booth on the table. Anya's sleeping on the sofa while Yor puts a blanket over her. Loid says that he's going out again because he found the liquor at a neighboring town. Since it's a bit far, he's taking a car that he's borrowing from the hotel. Anya wakes up and calls Loid a liar since he said he would be back soon but came back so late. He apologizes, but then she reads his mind as he thinks about the fact that if Anya doesn't get a stella soon, Operation Strix and their family will be over. Anya says she wants to come along with Loid, but when he turns her down, she sadly goes back to the bedroom with Bond. When Loid starts to leave, asking Yor to take care of Anya, Yor asks him how many seats there are in the car he borrowed. He answers five. She then asks if they can all go together, since it's a family trip.

In the bedroom, Anya hugs Bond while thinking about the sad state of the family. Bond suddenly has a vison of the cherry liquor behind the cash register of a store at the plaza. At first Anya wants to tell Loid about it, but then she thinks that her secret would be revealed if she did (Loid would say "How did you know that? You can read minds? And Bond can see the future?") After realizing she can't tell him about it, she looks towards the window...

Meanwhile, Yor tells Loid how happy it made Yuri to be with her all day for special occasions like birthdays and family outings, and that it's the same with Anya. Loid thinks back to how happy Anya was when they were doing things together on the trip, such as playing trump, playing in the snow, and eating at the restaurant. He picks up the toy gun on the table and thinks back to how grateful Anya was for being able to play "spy" at the old castle. As he returns the gun to the table, Yor tells him how Anya was looking forward to so many things on this family trip, like eating sweets and playing together. She says she understands Anya's feelings since she's made Yuri feel lonely before. She tells Loid that Anya was really looking forward to being with him and how lonely it is to be separated from your family. She asks again if they could all go together to get the liquor at the next town, even though it's passed Anya's bedtime. When he starts thinking of the possible harm of bringing Anya with him, he pushes those thoughts aside and agrees with Yor.

Suddenly, room service knocks at the door. When Yor says that she didn't order any, Loid looks through the peep hole and sees Fiona disguised as a maid. He then says that he forgot to order a large bathrobe and steps outside. In the hotel corridor, he asks Fiona why she's here. She repeats "room service" while actually saying "it's a mission" in spy talk. Loid says that she can talk normally since it's just the two of them, and asks if she could be quick since he's also on a mission. She starts blabbering internally about how she's alone with him – LOVE!

Back in the room, Yor hears a noise from the bedroom, and when she goes to look, the window is open and both Anya and Bond are gone. Meanwhile, Fiona explains the mission about the microfilm to Loid. When she mentions Colonel Snidel, Loid thinks back to his encounter with Snidel and the military back at the restaurant. Yor suddenly comes out of the room and tells Loid that Anya ran away through the window. She had left a note behind, but when Loid goes to read it, the handwriting is extremely messy – he can make out the word "sorry" (misspelled).

Anya and Bond arrive at the shop in the plaza from Bond's vision. She buys the bottle of liquor and happily walks with Bond back to the hotel, thinking that now the Forger family will be okay. At the same time, the military is looking for girls that match Anya's description, using a picture that Luca drew of her. Bond starts barking when he notices Luca and Domitri pull up in a car behind Anya. Anya and Bond try to run away, but Luca pulls Anya into the car. Bond bites Luca's arm but gets pushed away. As they drive off with Anya in the car, they run over a can in the road that hits Bond in the head. Bond howls sadly as he watches the car disappear. Back at the battleship, Snidel says that it will depart as soon as they get the microfilm.

Loid and Yor run through town calling for Anya. They find Bond collapsed on the side of the road. Loid asks if he's okay and if Anya was with him. Bond barks and tries to gesture about what happened, but Loid and Yor can't understand him. However, Loid notices something in Bond's mouth – Luca's armband that he had bitten off. Loid recognizes it and is in disbelief that Anya got caught up in the military.

Then Fiona, still disguised as the hotel maid, pulls up in a car nearby and calls to Loid saying that he dropped something. In "spy talk" however, she says that he should prioritize getting the microfilm over Operation Strix. Loid thinks for a minute, then says loudly (so Yor can hear) "Ma'am, I would like to ask a favor…"

Meanwhile, Anya is brought before Snidel. Upon seeing him, she shouts that he's the guy who ate her dessert. He says that more important than the melemele, she ate their chocolate. She then states that he's the boss of those thieves. Luca and Domitri reprimand her for not using polite speech in front of the colonel. Snidel asks if she's been to the toilet since. Anya reads his mind as he thinks about how they hid the microfilm in the chocolate, and it's better to wait until she poops it out before killing her. Anya then realizes that the chocolate she ate on the train had the "treasure" inside, and if she poops, she'll be killed. Anya then nervously says that she's so cute that poop has never come out of her body, but then admits that she's lying upon seeing Snidel's cold gaze. Snidel instructs Luca and Domitri to take Anya with them and inform him if she poops. Anya begins holding her butt and starts shaking in fear. Domitri asks if she has to go, but she says she's just cold. She knows she mustn't poop or she'll be killed, but the more she thinks about it, the more she has to go!

Back at the Frejis plaza in front of the station, Loid boards the old fighter plane that was parked there. He's able to operate the communication device and listen in on signals from Snidel's flying battleship. He manages to catch some of Luca and Domitri's conversation with Anya, including them saying that she's in this mess because she ate the microfilm. Upon realizing that Anya ate the microfilm, he breaks into a cold sweat, but quickly regains his composure as he gets off the plane and meets with Yor, who was waiting worriedly outside. He tells her that he thinks Anya is with the military, since he heard from the radio signals that they seem to have taken custody of a girl around five years old. Yor asks why Anya would be with the military. Loid knows that he didn't have any time to come up with an explanation, so he cuts the power cable on the plane and climbs back into the cockpit. As the propellers begin spinning, he asks Yor to stand back and tells her that he'll return soon. Yor thinks back to the two men who attacked Anya on the train and realizes that they might have been from the military, but she can't tell Loid about that or he'd know that she beat them up. She recalls what she said to Loid earlier: that they should all go together because it's a family trip. As the plane leaves, Yor jumps onto it and forces open the door at the bottom. Loid continues to pilot the plane into the Frejis sky, unaware that Yor is also on board.

Back at the WISE hideout, Sylvia thinks to herself that "the fate of the world depends on getting that microfilm…we're counting on you, Twilight."

Back at the battleship, Anya is trying hard to resist the urge to go to the bathroom. She moves her body back and forth to try and hold off the urge, which only makes Luca ask if she has to go. She says no and that she's just doing a dance she learned at school.

Meanwhile, Fiona infiltrates the Frejis air traffic control so she can communicate with Loid on the plane. She tells him the location of Snidel's battleship. Loid compliments her on being able to get the information so quickly, causing her to say that she's ready to be his lifelong partner anytime and asks again if he'd let her have the wife role for Operation Strix…but the communication line had already been cut.

Back at the battleship, Anya is still doing her "dance" to resist the urge to poop, but she's practically at her limit (Luca and Domitri had also prepared a duck-shaped potty for her). She's sweating, tearing up, and her stomach is rumbling. When she feels her consciousness wavering, a bright light suddenly fills her eyes. She finds herself standing in a beautiful meadow filled with colorful flowers and poop shaped clouds overhead. She hears a voice and looks up to see a divine-looking old man surrounded by light. He has a poop shaped crown and he's holding a staff with a poop shaped top. He tells her that he's the god of poop.

He says, "You've fought well, warrior Anya. You've tried your best to protect world peace but...enough is enough." He puts his hand on her shoulder. She can feel his compassion flowing through his palms. "Relax your butt and rest, warrior Anya. Let's go to the peaceful garden of the toilet!" Anya tries to fly through the sky like the poop god, but ends up falling into the ocean. However, she's saved by waves of toilet paper that lift her towards a temple lined with statues of the poop god. A toilet is enshrined in front of the statues. The poop god gives a shout, and the toilet paper carrying Anya turns into a giant duck potty. The poop god waves his staff and the duck speeds out of the water, heading towards the bathroom above the alter. The lid of the toilet opens with another shout from the poop god and the duck moves faster. Finally the duck bursts into a ball of light and Anya falls, laughing, into the shining toilet.

Back in reality, Anya finds herself on a bed in a room on the battleship. After hearing her mutter to herself about "what's the god of poop?" Luca excitedly asks if she's ready to poop and puts the duck potty on the bed. As soon as Anya looks at the duck, she comes to her sense and says, "no, I'm good." While Anya stays with Domitri, Luca reports to Snidel that Anya still hasn't pooped yet. Snidel tells him to cut open her stomach. Luca is taken aback by this and tries to protest, but after Snidel presses him, he reluctantly agrees to do it.

Meanwhile, Domitri is trying an exorcism ritual to get Anya to poop – he makes her lay on the bed with a banana, corn, and a pineapple along with coffee beans between them, all the while singing a song about "yellow three." When Luca returns, he asks Domitri what he's doing. Domitri replies that according to his coffee fortune telling, "yellow three" is lucky. Luca then tells him Snidel's orders and asks if Domitri would do it. Since neither of them want to, they decide via rock-paper-scissors, and Domitri wins. Anya reads Luca's mind about how he's going to cut open her stomach while Domitri holds her down. She starts shaking and thinks of Papa and Mama.

Meanwhile, Loid flies the plane close to the battleship and contacts them on the radio. He says that his plane is in a state of emergency due to a fuel system failure and would like to request an emergency landing on the battleship. When one of the soldiers tells Snidel that an unknown aircraft is requesting permission to board, Snidel demands that they shoot it down. Loid steers the plane out of the way of the sudden hail of bullets while Yor, still hiding in the back, hangs on as the plane starts shaking violently.

Back on the battleship, Domitri holds Anya while she screams for Papa and Mama. Luca approaches with a knife.

Back outside, Loid desperately steers the plane to avoid the gunfire from the battleship, including homing missiles. In the back compartment, Yor isn't able to see what's going on, so she thinks to herself that Loid's driving is…rough. Loid manages to dodge the missiles, but one of them explodes next to him, causing the fragments to fall on the plane and damage the left wing. He knows that crashing is inevitable, so he steers the plane towards the battleship. The impact of the plane crashing into the battleship shakes the room where Domitri, Luca, and Anya are in. They all lose their footing and fall, causing Domitri to let go of Anya. She then runs away and through the hallway while they give chase.

Loid jumps out of the cockpit with his bag of spy tools and onto the battleship as the plane crashes. He thinks to himself that he first needs to confirm where Anya is and heads through a narrow passageway. Meanwhile Yor makes her way out of the back part of the plane only to be greeted by a huge gust of wind. She's surprised to be on the outer part of a battleship. She peeks inside the cockpit to look for Loid, but he's not there. She remembers that Loid said Anya was with the military, so she must be on the battleship somewhere. The opening to the bottom of the battleship is too narrow, so she decides to go via the top, breaking into a fast sprint.

The soldiers find the plane wreckage and Snidel gives orders to search for survivors. When one of the soldiers tells him that there's a woman running along the outer part of the battleship, he thinks he's joking. But then he looks at the monitors and sees Yor for himself. He commands that they kill her, since she decided to come aboard using that plane, that makes her an enemy. The turrets at the top of the ship begin firing at Yor, but she swiftly dodges them. One of the soldiers readies a grenade, but she takes off her coat and throws it at him, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards. When the soldier falls through the deck onto the catwalk, the grenade falls from his hand. Yor gets away just as the grenade explodes, causing the area around the hatch where the soldiers were firing to burst into flames. The soldier watching from the monitor shouts "Explosion on deck 3A!" When she encounters the soldiers, Yor politely says that she came to pick up her husband and daughter, but the soldiers were already unconscious from the explosion. She heads further into the ship. The fire continues to spread through the battleship. Snidel commands the soldiers to go put out the fire, and when asked what to do about the woman, he says to send out Type F.

Meanwhile, Anya is still running away from Luca and Domitri (while still holding her butt). She manages to elude them by slipping into a room without them noticing. She listens by the door, and when she hears that they went off to look for her elsewhere, she breathes a sigh of relief. As she turns around, she notices a toilet in the back of the room. Tears start welling in her eyes…after a long and painful battle, she finally won.

Loid hides in a small room while soldiers are running through the corridors. He wonders to himself what the explosion was and if the plane crash could have possibly damaged the ship's hull. He peeks through a gap in the door and notices an officer who appears to be a captain based on the number of stars on his badge.

After giving orders to the soldiers, the captain walks towards the door. Loid pulls him in, knocks him out, and gags him. He then steps out of the room, now disguised as the captain, wearing his clothes and donning a mask with his face.

The sound of sirens are blaring through the battleship. Yor notices the soldiers desperately trying to put out the fire and apologizes to them. She again says that she came to get her husband and daughter and asks if there's anyone who knows where they are. One of the soldiers looks up and shouts "It's that woman!" The soldiers begin firing at her, but she jumps out of the way, grabs a nearby fire extinguisher and throws it at them, knocking them down like bowling pins. She's confused as to why they're shooting at her, then thinks that they could be part of the bad guy group that attacked Anya on the train. She picks up two knives that the now unconscious soldiers dropped. She then thinks of Anya being in trouble, without anyone protecting her, and her face becomes clouded with anxiety as she tightly grips the knife in her hand.

Meanwhile, Anya happily bursts out of the bathroom with a refreshed look on her face, toilet paper rolling down her feet…only to bump right into Luca and Domitri. Domitri stands proudly with toilet paper around his feet, boasting about his toilet paper fortune telling. Anya's face goes pale. Snidel is informed by one of the soldiers that the child has been secured, and he commands that they bring her to him.

As she continues looking for Loid and Anya, Yor arrives at the entrance to the air cell and pries open the heavy door. She's met with a blast of hot air. The fire has spread all over the spacious room. As she goes further in, she feels a murderous intent behind her. As soon as she starts to look over her shoulder, gatling guns begin firing at her. She jumps out of the way as bullets are showered on her. She goes further down in the air cell just as a gigantic figure appears, slowly moving towards her with heavy footsteps. She politely asks who he is, but Type F doesn't answer. He reaches towards her but Yor kicks him to the ground, only to have more bullets fired at her that she subsequently dodges. She pulls out the knife and pounces on him, managing to knock off his helmet. She asks him to stop attacking but instead he presses his forehead against the knife, making a very inhuman metallic sound, breaking the knife. The arms of his cloak, that had been engulfed in flames, burn off to reveal that he wasn't holding gatling guns, but his arms themselves are guns. The rest of his cloak burns off, revealing a body made entirely of weapons. After he calls Yor an "intruder," she readies the other knife, realizing she has no choice but to fight him.

Meanwhile Loid, still disguised as the captain, gives orders to the soldiers to help them put out the fire. When one of the soldiers asks where the hostage is, Loid questions him and he explains that she's a child about five years old and that officer Domitri took her to the bridge.

At the bridge, Anya is tied and gagged in front of Snidel. Snidel is upset that they missed getting her poop, but Luca says that it could still be in the sewage tanks. Snidel says that it could also still be in her body, which makes Anya even more afraid. Snidel tells them to keep her in the room downstairs and he'll "take care of her" once all the chaos on the battleship is over, while also ominously adding that he brought an extra big knife to enjoy kebobs. He then orders them to go into the sewage tanks and find the microfilm or else he'll cut them like kebobs too.

After leaving Anya in the room, Luca and Domitri grumble about how they're in such a mess because of some greedy kid, and Luca groans that he's still sore from being bitten by the stupid dog. Suddenly Loid, still disguised as the captain, gets the jump on them and knocks them out. He wonders why Anya isn't here since this should be the only bridge on the ship. He enters the room where Snidel is and says that he's going to report on the status of the firefighting operations, but Snidel dismisses him, saying that he's busy now.

In the room below, Anya can read Loid's mind but she can't move or talk due to being tied up and gagged. She realizes that she's tied to a telephone pipe that leads to the room above, so she slams her head against the pipe to get Loid's attention. Just as Loid is deciding to back off so as not to make Snidel suspicious, he hears the banging in the pipe and notices a hatch right below it. He realizes that Anya must be under there, so he pulls off one of the buttons on his uniform and pretends he's going to pick it up when it rolls near the hatch. However, Snidel says "wait, captain" and asks him when he began to smell like...a city. Snidel then immediately shoots at Loid, who manages to dodge, but the bullet grazes the face mask that he's wearing. Snidel continues to fire at Loid, who hides behind a console in the room. Snidel asks if he's the traveler from Rubble and Bonds and says that he shouldn't underestimate the nose of a gourmet like himself. Realizing he's been found out, Loid tears off the captain's mask. Snidel and the other soldiers begin exchanging gunfire with Loid.

Back in the air cell, Type F continues to shoot at Yor, his gatling gun arm having now turned into a grenade launcher. She narrowly dodges his attacks and grabs a fire extinguisher set (with an axe) from the wall. They end up crashing down through the floor, with Yor slamming the axe onto his chest as hard as she can. However, this only reveals a firearm magazine in his chest hatch. The magazine sends bullets into the gatling gun. He aims at Yor again but she jumps away in time. As they stare each other down in the flame filled room, she wonders what she can do against an enemy who can't be damaged by knives or axes.

Meanwhile, Loid continues to exchange gunfire with Snidel and his soldiers. Snidel opens an attaché case with a gas mask and grenade that he calls "Type G." Anya reads Snidel's mind about the grenade being a poison gas grenade that he's been developing and wants to test out. She starts panicking, trying desperately to break free from her binds so she can warn Loid about the poison gas. An image of Loid covered in wounds as he tries to save her flashes in her mind as she thinks "It's Anya's turn to save you!"

Snidel pulls out the pin from the Type G and throws it over to the console where Loid is hiding…just as Anya breaks free. As the rope suddenly breaks, she falls and rolls across the floor, hitting her head against a console in the back of the room. A green light illuminates on the console. Suddenly, the windows in the bridge open and gas starts getting blown all over, much to the confusion of Snidel and the soldiers. Loid uses this opportunity to make a move.

As the gas eventually leaves the room through the open windows, Snidel's men are shocked at what they see through the dissipating gas – their leader Snidel wrestling with…another Snidel! One Snidel tells them to shoot the imposter while the other says that he's the real one. Loid (disguised as Snidel) thinks to himself that since Snidel is the only one with a good nose, he just has to fool the others. Snidel brandishes his knife and threatens to tear off Loid's "imposter skin" and turn it into pork scratching. But Loid gets the upper hand and manages to grab Snidel and cause him to lose his balance, saying that his "imposter" skin isn't so flimsy that it could be cut off by the likes of Snidel. He wraps his left arm around Snidel's neck and tightens his grip, causing Snidel to drop the knife in his hand.

The soldiers are still confused about which is the real one as Snidel's body falls to the floor. Loid says "Do you think I'd lose to a fake," fooling the soldiers into thinking he's the real one. He tells them that they're to head to the Arbo Republic as soon as possible and that they're abandoning the ship. He commands them to use the land route instead. Carrying the body of the real Snidel, the soldiers leave with shouts of "all personnel abandon ship!" When he's finally alone, Loid takes off his Snidel disguise.

Meanwhile, Type F's right arm is overheating but he tells Yor it's no use waiting until he runs out of bullets. Even though his chest plate was torn off earlier, all Yor has left is a broken knife…until she feels around in her pocket and pulls out the lipstick that Loid had bought her. She lowers the knife and tells Type F "this is your last warning, please stand aside. I only came here to get my husband and daughter." But Type F just says that they should all perish together along with the future of the East and West. He then readies another round of bullets. Yor dodges and makes a wide circle around him, dragging the lipstick along the floor. She slashes at his chest with the knife, causing the knife to break. As he jeers that a knife won't work on him, he looks confused for the first time when he notices a line drawn around him with the lipstick, leading up to his chest. She says that she heard that lipstick is half oil. He tries to shoot at her again but it's too late…the flames along the railing run down the lines of lipstick, igniting the weapons embedded in his body, causing him to explode. After confirming that he's been destroyed, Yor continues on her way.

Back on the bridge, Loid opens the hatch to the door where Anya is and jumps down. She's overjoyed to see him as he asks if she's okay. She clings to him and buries her face in his chest. Just then, something falls out of her pochette – the cherry liquor. She tells him it's what Papa was looking for and he realizes that's why she ran away from the hotel. Upon realizing this, he can't help but smile, and Anya smiles too when she reads the thoughts he won't say. Just then they hear a loud explosion. Loid holds onto Anya as the ship shakes from the explosion. "Anyway, we better get out of here" he says.

Meanwhile, Yor opens the hatch at the top of the air cell and makes her way to the outer part of the airship where she sees Loid and Anya. They're both surprised to see her. "Mama!" Anya says as she runs to Yor, who gently hugs her while asking if they're both alright.

Loid asks the same of Yor while also asking why she's here. After hesitating a bit, she admits that she came on Loid's plane and that since it was an "outing," that they should have gone together. She then asks if the people on the airship are actually the military. Loid pauses since he can't tell her the real explanation, but then Anya speaks up about how she ate their important chocolate on the train and that's why they were after her. Loid thinks to himself about how they must have hid the microfilm in the chocolate, but he can't tell that to Yor. So he says that chocolate theft is rampant in cold regions because people believe it will keep them warm...they'd even steal from a military ship. Yor believes him and comments that there's a lot of scary people in the world. They both scold Anya for what she did: Loid asks what the heck she was doing eating that by accident (while in his mind he's glad that she's safe) and Yor says that she shouldn't do whatever she wants with something that belongs to someone else. Anya guiltily says "sorry" and they both can't help but smile at her. They hear more explosions and Loid says that they need to get off the ship. Anya points towards the window and they realize that the ship is heading right towards the city of Frejis. Loid begins operating the device on the console. Yor asks if he knows how to operate it and he says that he knows how from when he did it as part time work when he was a student. Yor is impressed, but Anya knows he's lying.

Down in Frejis, people notice the large, burning battleship descending towards the town and begin running all over in a panic. On the battleship bridge, the ceiling blows off, causing an extremely strong wind to blow. Loid realizes that the propulsion system and lifting platforms are dead, and wonders if it's even possible to make a safe landing or even change course. Behind him, Yor and Anya are holding onto each other while the latter shouts "You can do it, Papa!" Loid says not to worry since the rudder is still intact. However, when he grips it, he can hardly get it to move and the ship is still losing altitude. Debris from the broken ceiling rains down on his head, causing him to lose his balance. Just then, he feels something on his right hand…Yor's hand. And on his left hand, Anya's. "Please let me help, too" says Yor, "Anya too!" says Anya. Working together, the three of them are able to move the rudder little by little.

The Frejis clock tower looms before them but they're able to steer the ship so that it narrowly avoids colliding and only grazes the side of the clock tower. The ship continues to lose altitude, heading towards the surface of a large frozen lake. Yor hugs Anya close to protect her as the ship shakes violent from the impact of the landing. The battered ship glides along the surface of the water at high speed, whipping up a cloud of steam. The frozen water crashes onto the ship, putting out the fire. On a hill not too far away from Frejis, Bond and Fiona stand near Fiona's car and watch with bated breath as the battleship crashes into the lake. "Senpai…" "Borf, borf, borf!"

Back at the ship, the Forges escape from the collapsed bridge and onto the roof. They look in wonder at the pretty scene before them of the glittering ice particles shining against the city lights like diamond dust. Suddenly, water that had collected on the deck roof pours onto them like a waterfall, leaving them soaked. They're perplexed for a moment before Anya bursts out laughing with a "waku waku splash!" Then Yor also laughs. As he watches the two of them laughing, Loid smiles softly.

Suddenly Anya sneezes and Loid notices something in her mouth. Loid realizes it's the microfilm, smaller than a fingernail. He wonders if it had somehow gotten stuck in her teeth. When Yor asks what it is, he clutches the microfilm in his hand and replies with a smile, "it's a return ticket."

The next morning at Berlint, Yuri listens to the news at his desk at the SSS: "The flying battleship that landed in Lake Frejis last night appears to have been an accident during a training flight. The committee has announced that it has already begun interviewing the manufacturer and the military." He remembers that Frejis is where Yor said she was taking a trip to and he wonders if she's okay. His lieutenant then opens the door and requests some documents. Yuri asks why the SSS has to be the ones to clean up this incident, and the lieutenant replies that if the people found out that the military was behind it, that would be troublesome. After the lieutenant leaves, Yuri muses to himself how it seems that WISE intervened in the incident though there's no solid information. He wonders how they could have possibly done it, then thinks "it must have been him…Twilight."

At the WISE hideout, Sylvia reads the newspaper headline which states that there were no survivors of the battleship incident. She compliments Loid, saying that even though the SSS put out the fire so to speak, he managed to not leave a trace of the Forgers' involvement. Loid replies that yes, the Forgers were just enjoying a normal family vacation. He takes out a wine bottle from his bag. Sylvia peels off the label, revealing the microfilm. She then tells him that he's back in charge of Operation Strix, much to Loid's surprise. She hands him a photo of Depple at night with a strange woman and says that his affair was exposed and he was disowned by the father of his wife. Loid smiles slightly when he notices that the woman with Depple in the photo is a WISE agent – in other words, he had fallen into their trap.

Afterwards, Loid meets up with Yor, Anya, and Bond at the park by a fountain. Yor asks how his patient was and he replies that it wasn't a big deal considering they called him out of nowhere. Anya asks Loid why there's no fish in the water and he flatly replies because it's a fountain. She then calls to Yor, taking her hand and leading her to the fountain. As Loid watches them happily talk about something, and Bond following along and enjoying himself, Loid lets out a sigh, but his expression is surprisingly soft. He thinks that even though he's able to continue Operation Strix, he can't let his guard down and needs to keep focusing on acquiring stellas. Anya reads his mind and is overjoyed that the Forger family isn't finished. Loid says that they should go home now since Anya has to "train" to make the melemele for the cooking competition tomorrow. Even though they weren't able to eat a real melemele, they at least have the ingredients for one. Anya asks to hold Loid and Yor's hand as she happily chants that she's going to make a yummy pastry. When Yor says that she'll help too, Loid and Anya politely turn her down. They then head home together.

At the Eden classroom, the students are preparing their cooking ingredients. Becky says that she's going to make an orange layer cake that she learned from training with her pastry chef. She asks Anya what she's going to make. When Anya replies "melemele," Damian overhears and comments that it's an old pastry. Anya tells him that if she makes something good, she wants him to have it too. Damian's face reddens as he shouts that he'd never eat anything she makes. With a shocked face, she asks if he really hates it that much. This makes Damian's face redden even more as he shouts that he'd vomit if he ate her food. He runs off with Ewen and Emile following. Becky comments that he's the worst while Anya thinks that the friendship scheme is a failure. Just then, Anya and Becky turn towards the direction of an explosion sound.

Later that day, Anya shows Loid and Yor a note from school saying that the school kitchen broke down so the competition was postponed and the judge was changed to the vice principal due to scheduling conflicts. Anya laments that since it's not the principal, the melemele won't work. Loid thinks for a moment and says that he remembers reading in the school newspaper that the vice principal is crazy about the berry pudding from the southern region. He asks if they should go, and both Yor and Anya agree. Loid opens a map and points out the southern region. He says it's warm there so they shouldn't need a lot of luggage. Anya is excited about going to the ocean and wonders what playing cards she should bring while Loid thinks it would be a good opportunity for her to learn how to swim. Upon hearing all the talking, Bond comes over from where he was sleeping and gives a happy "Borf!"

Meanwhile at Frejis station, Franky trembles in the cold and shouts "Hey Loid, I bought the cherry liquor!!!"

-----

Afterword: Congratulations if you've read this far! When I first started this project, I honestly didn't think I would write this much for a "summary" 😅 I thought it would just be a few paragraphs tops. But as I translated, I was like "oh, this is interesting, I should write it down!" And I just kept going with that and didn't want to stop! Some may wonder why I would want to spoil myself to this degree, but for me, reading about the movie (in a language I'm not fluent in) is still no replacement for actually seeing it for myself - the novelization doesn't convey every line of dialogue, character action/expression, voices, etc. But now that I know what to expect, I can get myself hyped for the scenes I'm looking forward to seeing while also not getting my hopes up for something I won't see. I don't care to do this for most things, but I'm the opposite when it comes to my hyperfixations like SxF! I'm also not going to give my thoughts on the movie until I see it for myself. But I will say that based on the novelization, even though I thought a few things could be better, overall I think it will be a ton of fun and can't wait to see everything in full animated glory!

Again, please remember to be cautious about where you share spoilers and to properly tag posts on social media. And if you end up sharing large portions of this summary elsewhere, a shoutout to my blog would be nice...I spent many hours working on this!

[naybii]

Welcome home

cw: long distance relationship, Rich!jake + college student! User, car sex, cunillingus, riding ,a little bit of exhibitionism, Soft dom! Jake x Switch! User. Pet names (baby, babe,gorgeous.)

a/n: lowkey based this off of a Jake Character Ai bot.. also the last story was hella long and I’m sorry 😞 the creative came out of me.

Rating: SMUT

- the following story contains suggestive Dialogue and Storyline.

Please proceed w/ caution. -

You and Jake have been dating for almost two years, though you’ve been attending college abroad you and Jake were in a temporary Long distance relationship, but you’ve guys managed to keep the relationship strong. Though, today was the day that you get to see your Beautiful boyfriend. His parents had Said that you and Jake Could stay in the beach house as long as they took Care of Jake’s dog. Layla.

You Arrived To the beach house in a cab, and you grabbed your bags, immediately walking towards the beach house. Jake had left the door open, so you walked into the humble and tidy beach house. And Saw Jake. Sitting on the couch. And Layla!! Who’d you go to first? Layla of course. As soon as Jake saw you he tried giving you a Hug but you immediately ran to Layla. Bending over to get to Layla.

“Oh my beautiful fur baby!! So grown up!..” you Gushed on about Layla. Meanwhile, Jake was standing there, checking your ass out like the shameless boyfriend he is. Arms crossed, and waiting for his Hugs and kisses. “Hey, what about me, y/n?” He Tilted his head in confusion and sighed. “Were you looking at my ass?” You questioned Jake and he had nodded. “Oh come on y/n. It was practically right Infront of me, you can’t blame me.”

Jake tried desperately defending himself. You were wearing bell bottoms and a tank top so it was tight at the top and Flowing at the bottom. “You’re such a pervert.” You Teased Jake. As he rolled his eyes. “Oh so you give her a hug but not me?” Jake questioned you.

“Jake there’s something called ‘bros before hoes.” You Jokingly Said to him as you were scratching the back of laylas ear. “Oh? You’re calling me a hoe? That’s not very nice, y/n” he Rolled his eyes

“You know I love you jake.” You kissed his cheek, then Walked over to the couch. Over a few hours, you and Jake had decided to go to some bar. Of course you weren’t a big drinker so you just Had some non-alcoholic beverages. And still enjoyed the Drinks. You were changed into this knee high and Tight dress and that whole car ride for the beach house to the club, Jake couldn’t keep his hands off of you. At all.

The bar was pretty Crowded and A little clustered but it was alright for the most part. Jake had been moderately drinking his alcohol hadn’t really been that bad with his drinking. It was hard for him to get drunk. (Let’s just pretend.) he led you to the Corner of the bar, at this booth. And You two had been talking for a while. He placed a hand on your thigh just so men knew that you were going anywhere with them.

As you guys sat down, He Whispered some Lovely Things in your ear. “You look so lovely In that dress, Gorgeous.” He smiled at you. Then kissing your neck. All he thought about was ‘how did I score such a gorgeous woman?” You were a Gorgeous woman,loving,caring, and gorgeous , oh wait? Did he ever mention that you were gorgeous?

“Are you planning on eating anything, Jake?” You asked him, Jake the. Shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for food right now gorgeous,though there is something I am craving that is way better than food.” A hint of innuendo in his Voice. “Hm?” You hummed in question, then waiting for his answer. “I’m craving something. Nice, and sweet. Something I’ve haven’t had in a year.” Oh how you already knew what he was talking about.

“Good because I want it too.” You replied, Jake immediately grinned at your reply, pulling you closer to him and sliding his hands up your pretty thighs, his hand disappearing into your skirt as he hikes his hand up your Legs. “You feel the same way? That’s good to know I guess.” He murmured, You knew that he was Already probably popping a boner, as we speak.

“Ey, Jake. Not here, we’re in public.” You warned him, swatting his hand away. He was Too infatuated to realize he was in public and had flushed a red color. “Oh shit I’m sorry, y/n.” He said, a little hint of embarrassment in his voice. “I’m okay with waiting. Until we get home. I want to take my time with you.” You registered his words and immediately said “no.”

You got up and grabbed his hand, not letting him speak. “Hey, wait right now?—“ he questioned as you led him outside of the bar. “Hey, we’re not going to do it in the car, right?” You glanced back at him. “That’s where you’re wrong.” You murmured. “Why are you in a rush? You want to get all over me or something?” He asked you, softly. “No, I want you to eat me out.

He was infatuated with you, once again. Your boldness genuinely turned him on. The way you took the lead by walking him out was pretty damn intriguing. “You want me to put the car seats down?” He Asked you, wanting To make this the best session ever with you. “Yes, please.” You murmured. He smirked subtly, then putting the car seats down. Patting the seats, indicating that he wants you to lay down for him

. “Come here gorgeous, I’ll make sure this is my best meal today.” You made your way to the specific car seat, laying down and looking up at him. Hands behind your head. “Alright, let’s just hope I don’t suffocate you with my thighs.” Jake chuckled and Said. “That’s the best way to suffocate me to death.”

“Oh shut up..” you murmured against your own Breath. Whatever that means. He flashed a grin at you. “I’d be praising those thighs until I’m dead.” He said with his Thick accent. “Go on. I know you’re craving me so bad.” You Invited him to get a taste of your sweet cunt. “Hell yes I’m am, I’ve been missing your Pussy since you left .” He admitted. “You loved it that bad?” You asked him.

“I loved it, so much.” He smiled. Getting between your thighs. And positioning his head between them. Using his hands to hold your Legs. Glancing up at you. He Then Looked to see if you were wearing any underwear. “No underwear? Have you planned this?” He teased and surprisingly, you nodded. “I actually did.” You snickered at his expression. But he shook his head and took a deep breath. “Ready, babe?” He smiled slyly. “Yes..yes..I’m ready.”

Jake’s smile widens and he grabs the hem of your panties, slowly and teasingly sliding them down your legs.“God, I’ve been wanting to taste you for so damn long..” He says, his eyes looking up at you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Jake can’t wait anymore and he immediately buries his head between your thighs, diving deep into your Pussy. Jake’s tongue pushes into your wetness and he tastes you, moaning at the nice and sweet taste of your cunt.

Jake grabs your thighs while he’s eating you out, his hands squeezing your thighs and swatting them regularly. “Oh fuck, you taste amazing.” He praised you, “Oh fuck jake!!..” you Stammered. Arching your back, hungry for more friction. Jake looks up for a quick second and smirks, his lips glistening. “You taste so good, baby..” Jake says, then proceeds to Taste your clit.

Swirling his Tounge Around the sensitive area. “Oh shit Jake. Fuck ,close already.” Jake continues to eat you out, the sounds of his tongue slurping you filling the car. One of his hands moves from your thigh up to your stomach underneath, caressing it and massaging it.Jake’s tongue presses harder against you and his fingertips press into the soft entrance of your pussy.

Jake moans softly against you, his fingers suddenly pushing into your folds and curling them with the come here motion, making you squeal in pleasure. “Oh fuck!!” You cried out. Tears of pleasure in your eyes. “Fuuuck, you’re so damn wet..” Jake moans, and Admires your taste. “Jake, I’m gonna cum!!” Jake feels you getting closer and he starts licking you faster, his fingers pumping in and out with the curling of the fingers. “Come for me, princess. I want you to cum on my tounge, you while you do..”

His dirty talk really did you a favor which eventually made you climax. Your walls clenched around Jake’s fingers, Clamping down onto the and cumming all of them as soon as Jake curled his fingers. “Oh fuck I’m cumming!” You cried out and Of course like you said. Came all over his fingers, he Pulled them out. A white liquid; masking his fingers. He brought them to his mouth and licked his fingers. “Im gonna drive us back home, alright?” He asked you. And you nodded, staying in the backseat to rest. That rest of your night was Passionate sex and Aftercare.

[rainystarters]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 and other stories . . . 〗 a collection of dialogue + action prompts inspired by angela carter's the bloody chamber and other stories. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. adjust details as necessary.

dialogue :

are you sure you want to marry him?

oh! how you must want me!

soon.

i had never been vain until i met you.

anticipation is the greater part of pleasure.

all the better to see you.

what is that key? the key to your heart?

every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife.

all is yours, everywhere is open to you.

but now... what shall i do now?

my darling, i cannot wait for the moment when you make me yours completely.

there is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

you are in some great distress.

any bride brought to a castle should come ready dressed in mourning.

oh god. i can smell the blood.

i thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behavior!

can't it wait until morning, my darling?

who can say what i deserve or no?

i've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.

i have a place prepared for your exquisite corpse upon my display of flesh.

good fellow? i am no good fellow.

forgive me for robbing your garden!

all she wanted, in the whole world, was one white, perfect rose.

and what else was there to be done?

they are the death of any tender herbivore.

so late! you will want sleep.

you will come back to me? it will be lonely here, without you.

i will come back. soon, before the winter is over.

i am sick and i must die.

if you'll have me, i'll never leave you.

i think i might be able to manage a little breakfast today.

i have lost my pearl, my pearl beyond price.

if you are so careless of your treasure, you should expect them to be taken from you.

for all my pride, my heart is heavy.

if you wish to give me money, then i should be pleased to receive it.

i shall twist a noose out of my bed linen and hang myself with it.

you are a woman of honor.

nothing human lives here.

we have dispensed with servants.

take off my clothes for you, like a ballet girl? is that all you want of me?

all cats are cynics.

you read my thoughts, my love.

the woods enclose. the wood swallows you up.

all will fall still, all lapse.

it is easy to lose yourself in these woods.

i thought that nobody was in the wood but me.

there are some eyes can eat you.

sometimes the birds, at random, all singing, strike a chord.

eat me, drink me.

dive in and fetch it for me.

now you are at the place of annihilation.

and she is herself a cave full of echoes, she is a system of repetitions, she is a closed circuit.

can a bird sing only the song it knows or can it learn a new song?

beauty is a symptom of disorder, of soullessness.

a single kiss woke up the sleeping beauty in the wood.

be he alive or be he dead.

coffee. you must have coffee.

welcome. welcome to my chateau.

i rarely receive visitors and that's a misfortune since nothing animates me half as much as the presence of a stranger.

this place is so lonely.

now the village is deserted.

often i am so silent that i think i, too, will soon forget how to do so and nobody will ever talk any more.

i must apologize for the lack of light.

you have such a fine throat, like a column of marble.

i am condemned to solitude and dark.

i do not mean to hurt you.

i will be very gentle.

and could love free me from the shadows?

i've been waiting for you in my wedding dress, why have you delayed for so long.

you will feel no pain, my darling.

so delicate and damned, poor thing. quite damned.

the end of exile is the end of being.

it is a northern country; they have cold weather, they have cold hearts.

the devil is as real as you or i.

do not leave the path.

you are always in danger in the forest.

they are as unkind as plague.

fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems.

besides, aren't you afraid of the wolves?

actions :

clasp. from behind, the sender places their hands over the receiver's eyes.

opera. through opera glasses, the sender watches the receiver.

choker. the sender fastens a gemstone necklace around the receiver's neck.

carriage. the sender locks the receiver in with them in their train compartment.

spine. the sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's bare neck.

cigar. the sender leans in and blows smoke in the receiver's face.

ermine. the sender wraps the furs around the receiver tighter as the snow falls.

keys. the sender silently enters the room and listens to the receiver play piano.

harem. the sender undresses the receiver before a collection of mirrors.

lazy. the sender brings the receiver breakfast in bed.

call. the sender calls the receiver and bursts into tears upon hearing their voice.

note. the sender discovers a love letter sent to the receiver from a previous lover.

death. the sender finds the receiver with the body of their latest victim.

hospitality. the sender watches from the shadows as the receiver take refuge from a storm in the sender's seemingly abandoned home.

servant. invisible, the sender feeds/washes/cares for the receiver.

hearth. the sender and the receiver talk past midnight by the fire's light.

hands. the sender falls to their knees before the receiver and kisses their hands.

bouquet. the sender has a hundred white roses sent to the receiver.

reunion. the sender lays eyes upon the receiver for the first time in an age.

bad luck. the sender hangs their head having lost a bet to the receiver.

voice. the sender sends their valet to speak their desires to the receiver.

powder. the sender dresses/makes up the receiver before an important night.

stallion. the sender grabs the reins of the receiver's horse and leads them away.

weep. the sender cries at the sight of the receiver in such a state.

dry. the sender brushes a tear from the receiver's cheek.

flush. the sender pinches the receiver's skin, watching it redden with blood.

prey. the sender guides the receiver's hands as together they skin a rabbit.

song. the sender sings and the receiver is spellbound, their feet following their song's command.

caught. the sender locks the receiver into a cage.

green. by the sender's command, the growth begins to take over the receiver.

tarot. the sender tells the receiver they are doomed to a sad fate.

stain. the sender touches the bloodstain on the receiver's white negligée.

wild. the sender rides hard through the night, chasing the receiver.

thirst. the sender sinks their teeth into the neck of the receiver.

china. the sender pours tea for the receiver and offers them biscuits.

blemish. the sender explores the receiver's skin and finds the mark of a witch.

wolf. the wolf reveals themself to be the sender before the receiver.

muzzle. the sender kisses the monstrous mouth of the receiver.

[edgeray]

HI, first of all, i love your write so much 💕💕💕💕💕, you're so creative, please, as long as you feel good writing, write!!! You are very good at it, and you feed Arle stans so weel.

Second, did you by any chance watched bridgerton ? If not, just ignore it, it's more to give a historical context (and dresses in beautiful scenery, for sure). Bridgerton is a period show (and books) that takes place at the beginning of the 19th century (1810-1820) [Although, I think Arlecchino would fit even more within the context of the Victorian age, but I think it might be an idea saved for another request]. Given the context, I believe my request becomes clearer :

Arlecchino who pretends to be a man (dressing and acting like one) to get married to the reader.

It's not news to anyone that Arlecchino is part of a powerful nobility family and it's also not news to anyone that she hates playing the female role given to her (and I can't imagine her wearing the fluffy dress ever!!!!), so seeing her childhood best friend become the diamond of the season (basically the favorite debutant of the season for both the queen and the suitors, in a very short way) She realizes that she needs to enter the marriage market too, in this case to fight for your hand.

Please feel free to change any part of the order, I don't want this to become boring for you to write.

So thank you for share your works and read it, (can i?) 🪷anon.

Courting a Lie

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N- Of course you can be 🪷 anon! Thank you for your kind words. I aim to feed. Arle for everyone!! Sorry that this is super late… I will assume the reader is female for this because a debutant is a woman. Also didn't know how to make it GN! since there's no gender neutral aristocratic titles as far as I know. Sorry GN! readers :(  While I haven't watched Bridgerton, from your description of the era, I've read quite a few manhwas set in a European aristocratic society that sounds just like this. I get the general gist of what you're saying from those manhwas so I drew some inspiration from there.  I've never really written for a historical fiction AU so we shall see how this goes. Apologies in advance if it is cringe. I did change a few things for the plot, but not because it was boring, more because of my own plot/backstory building. I actually had a lot of fun researching random bits for this request, and this request is among my most developed and thoughtful works on Tumblr! Still don't know how to dialogue though… I really liked writing this kind of setting so I would be pretty happy if a part 2 of this was requested... how did I do in terms of writing this? hopefully not too far from bridgerton?   Content warnings / info - arlecchino is referred to as a man and uses masculine pronouns for a little bit, 2.0k words

You don't quite remember what occasion it was when you first met her. Perhaps it was a charity ball or some celebration. Either way, you were at most eight years of age when you met your first friend, a quiet, petite child hiding in the corner of the Snezhevna Estate's garden, ducked nearby a bush. You wandered away from the garden party, as you couldn't find any other children your age that weren't pestering, so you explored the edges, admiring the flowers. 

You stumbled upon a white haired child, with her white dress sullied by her kneeling on the dirt. Similarly, her pale hands were soiled, as if she had dug into the earth with her fingers alone. You nearly gasped at the sight–no lady would ruin their dress so carelessly, especially a dress seemingly adorned as hers. Nevertheless, you were in awe of the courage to do so. Was it possible she wasn't educated well? It'd be damaging to her family's reputation if anyone were to see the condition of her apparel.

You approached her carefully, your voice small in hopes that you wouldn't sound rude. 

“Hello,” you greeted first, and the child turned her head over her shoulder, gazing at you. 

Your breath hitched as you glanced at her eyes, each black pit filled with a red cross in the center that made you suppose she didn't fit into any aristocratic family. You didn't know of any noble family that had such eyes, and it's only been known from noble families to hold particular sets of eyes. Did this girl really belong to nobility? 

“I know I'm not supposed to be in the dirt. Now leave me alone,” she says before turning away, her voice sounding far too monotone and androgynous for you to consider her a young noble lady. Nonetheless, the clear difference between her and the other guests of the function intrigued you. She was educated, or at least it seemed like it, but she had a disregard for creating a good impression. You ignored her request, instead, plopping yourself down beside her to see what it was in the dirt she was so interested in. 

“What are you digging in the dirt for?” You asked. She slumped, as if irritated by your persisted presence. 

“I'm looking for bugs. So go away, unless you want a spider on you,” she warned without looking at you, with the evident expectation her threat would ward you away. 

It did not, in fact, deter you. If anything, you pressed on, your expression contorting to that of fascination. “What kind of bugs?”

That seemed to snatch the young girl's attention as she turned to you, widened eyes as she observed you, searching your face for any lies. She couldn't believe that there was someone else who could be so ‘lady-like.’ Her apathy returns shortly after, and she glances back at the mound of dirt before her. 

“Young ladies aren't supposed to be interested in pests or dirtying their hands,” the white-haired child states, but it seems more like a recital of someone else's words. 

“Maybe. But it's fun, right?” You replied, offering her a small smile.

Although she still didn't face you, you watched her eyes gleam with life. Your grin grew in accordance. 

“So… you like bugs?” She questioned as she cups a worm she managed to uproot. 

“No way. Not touching them,” you shutted her down immediately and she pouted as you shook your head vigorously. 

“But… I thought you were better company than those other kids. So… I hope you don't mind having me too much?” you sheepishly remarked, wincing a bit at your apparent nervousness. In response, the girl huffed, gracing you with a faint smile. The sight sent flutters through your stomach, filling you with a rush of giddiness you never felt before. 

“Just don't scream, okay?” Is all she answered back.

And that was how you befriended the bastard daughter of the Snezhevna family. Since then, the two of you have been exchanging letters, and met each other at every possible social gathering in secret. Although your family discouraged meeting her so often, you ignored them. However, when you had just turned twelve, her letters stopped, as if she disappeared. You asked Marchioness Crucabena about her daughter, and all you received from the matriarch was a cold cut message: Peruere was receiving ‘education’ for indefinitely. 

Your heart sunk as you crinkled the letter in your hands, tears welling in your eyes at the thought of never seeing your dear friend again. Where had Peruere gone? You hastily wrote another letter, inquiring more about the education or if Peruere could write you back, but the Marchioness would not indulge you with additional information, essentially telling you to mind your business and to stop writing to her. 

You remember weeping into your pillows for the entire night until your eyes dried up, red and puffy from rubbing them constantly. You were haunted by memories of star gazing, of laying on the garden grass, of lounging in one another's arms. Your few moments of bliss were gone forever, stripped away with her absence. 

— 

Pureure always wished she wasn't born into a noble family. Aristocratic society was tedious and pretentious. Why her father ever chose to engage with something as disgusting as the Marchioness, it most definitely wasn't out of love–a fabled concept among nobles really. Peruere knew little of what happened to the late Marquess–his death was caused by a carriage accident–but she knew her birth father was with the Marchioness after the death. 

Regardless, between her and her half-sister Clervie, the Marchioness deemed Peruere better fitted as the heir of the family. In Peruere's opinion, Clervie would have made an impressive matriarch. However, when she inquired Clervie about it, her sister vehemently rejected the notion, wanting to remain carefree as she always was. For as heedless as her older sister was, she would be the model of a noblewoman, the favorite debutante had she wanted to take on the aristocratic responsibilities. In any case, Marchioness Crucabena always had a noticeable distaste for the two of them and Peruere suspected it was because she had no sons and marrying once more would mean losing the inheritance of her late husband. 

Peruere soon learned why exactly she was chosen as the next heir. It was easier for her to pose as a male rather than Clervie in order to appease the Marchioness. Added with Peruere's bastard status, few people knew of her existence, or more so, her familial ties with the Marchioness. With the Marchioness’s ‘education’ Peruere, the bastard daughter with a commoner surname, was transformed into Arlecchino Snezhevna, a bastard son with the Snezhevna surname, and so inheritor of the Marquess title. Pereure was erased effectively in the span of six years. 

Because Arlecchino was a bastard son, that label would have made it difficult to impose herself among other noblemen, and most especially, marry another powerful family. In that sense, what she could not make up in legitimacy, she had to make up in other qualities as a noble. Her hours, from dawn to dusk, consisted of history, economy, and art lessons, etiquette and mannerisms classes, 

and learning various skills such as conversational, dancing, equestrian, fencing, and hunting. Obtaining any length of slumber came few and far, and when rest was finally permitted, her body often ached too much for her to drift.

Instead, she laid conscious at night, her head tilted towards the window, the stars winking back at her. Her thoughts returned to you, as they always have during her respites, and she would wonder again and again if you were looking at the same night sky as she was, reminiscing over memories of stargazing. She often raised her hands to her eyes, the only question lingering in her mind would be if you would recognize these hands if she met you again, the same hands that held you. Alone in her chambers, Arlecchino, no Peruere, promised that she would meet you again, and maybe, this time she would never have to leave your side again. 

She only hoped that she would be good enough for you. 

—

Your heart is thumping rapidly against your chest while your clammy and fidgety hands grasp onto the gloved hand of your dance partner, maintaining deep breaths and keeping your composure as best as possible. You match the steps of the bachelor gracefully and diligentfully, feeling many spectators’ gazes on your back. It’s both invigorating and exhausting to realize that you are the diamond of the season. Receiving this many dance requests is a good sign, yes, but it only means that you are creeping closer to having to choose a suitor.

And inevitably lose Peruere forever. 

You quickly snap out of your thoughts in order to further entertain your dance partner with small talk, and finally the dance ends. 

“Thank you, Earl Childe. It was a pleasure dancing with you. You make an excellent dancer,” you offer the young redhead a beaming expression. 

“You're quite one yourself. I quite enjoyed our time. Perhaps we could dance more privately at a later date?” The sauve bachelor replies back, matching your practiced smile with a cocky one. 

“Perhaps,” is all you say, and thankfully the bachelor walks away. 

You let out a sigh of relief, but it seems you thought too soon, as another set of footsteps approach you from behind. Turning around, you’re met with perhaps the most refined and handsome gentleman you've graced your eyes upon. Immediately, you feel your cheeks swell and you feel unnaturally timid. Sincere red-crossed eyes meet yours, and a faint, charming smile stretches on the lips of the nearing bachelor.

“May I have this dance, Lady [F/N]?” He offers his hand gracefully, and you take his. 

“I haven't introduced myself, pardon me. I am, Earl Arlecchino, Earl of Snezhevna,” he introduces himself with a knowing smile, or rather, she introduces herself as your face contort to that of shock at the mention of her family name. You halt as she initiates the dance, her grin growing as fondness spreads over her facial expression.

“Peruere?” You whisper as you reach out, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder, your other gloved hand in hers. Her body warmth bleeds through the contact, and you sense it flow through your entire body. 

“It's Arlecchino, for appearances. I trust you won't expose me?” Peruere says, her eyes scanning over your entire form in awe. “You're… I don't quite have enough words to describe you. You're utterly beautiful.” 

You flush at the compliment before you forcefully tear yourself away from the bubbling giddiness within you, nodding at her first question. Your face attempts to appear stern and angry, but your eyes sabotage that. “I missed you… dearly. Where have you gone? Why didn't you write to me? I kept waiting for you…” 

Peruere's face softens, morphing to one of regret and sympathy. “I haven't stopped thinking of you either. My mother demanded I suddenly take lessons on how to be a nobleman, and with that, I was no longer Peruere, but Arlecchino. During that time, I had to endure everything my mother gave me, and I hardly had time to sleep. I have tried to send you some, but I suspected that the Marchioness meticulously checked what was sent and received. I've kept a pile of letters that I wrote for you, so you would be able to read everything I had to say over the years.” 

You inhale slowly before nodding, understanding her words. “You kept plaguing my dreams, Arlecchino. You don't know how long I've wanted to see you. Please… never leave me again. I don't think I can bear being without you again.” 

It's Arlecchino's turn to be surprised. “You… Are you asking me what you think you're asking me?” She breathlessly inquires, her voice on the edge of exhilaration, and you give her a hopeful smile. 

You nod. “I… I always thought you were the one since we were little. I didn't want to spend my time with anyone else. So… can you be beside me again?” 

Peruere nearly melts at your request. “As long as you'll allow me another dance.”