#no resolution to this break down i fear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moomuzan · 2 months ago

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— 𝖌𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖋𝖆𝖗

they physically hurt you during an argument , dazai , chuuya , akutagawa , angst , requested

As the fight spiraled into chaos, every word seemed like a jagged shard, cutting both of you open. Dazai stood before you, his expression carefully constructed, a facade of calm that only amplified the storm raging in the room. His words were like knives, precise and cold, but you had learned how to endure them. Or so you thought.

“You think you’re better than this?” he snapped, his voice laced with something darker, more desperate. “Better than me? You don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into. You’re so naïve it’s pathetic.”

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, voice trembling but resolute. “But at least I feel something real, Dazai. At least I’m not hiding behind masks and games like you.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, the weight of your words settling between you. His jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides. You could see it—the storm breaking through his carefully curated demeanor, the anger and fear he so often buried rising to the surface.

And then, like a thunderclap, it happened.

While his hands moved faster than his mind, shoving you back, his frustration snapped into action. The force wasn’t calculated—it never was—but it sent you stumbling into the wall with a sickening thud. Pain shot up your back, sharp and immediate, and for a moment, the air was knocked clean out of your lungs.

Defeating, merely silence followed.

As if they were still grappling with the weight of what they’d done, his outstretched hands trembled. His eyes widened, the usual nonchalance stripped away to reveal something raw, something terrified.

Hoarse, he whispered your name, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. You pressed a hand to your ribs, wincing as you steadied yourself against the wall. The ache in your side was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness in your chest, the realization that this—this person, this moment—was no longer safe.

“Don’t touch me,” you managed, your voice trembling, not with anger but with something more fragile.

“I didn’t mean to,” The man said, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “I swear, I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean it?” you interrupted, the words bitter as they left your mouth. “You never mean it, Dazai. But that doesn’t stop it from happening, does it?”

Dazai‘s hands fell to his sides, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of your words physically struck him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. For once, Dazai Osamu—the man who always had a plan, a clever retort, a way out—was speechless.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said, your voice breaking. “I can’t keep forgiving you for the ways you hurt me, for the ways you make me doubt myself. Love isn’t supposed to feel like this.”

In a matter of seconds his expression shattered then, the mask slipping completely. He looked like a man on the edge of something vast and terrible, his usual bravado gone, replaced by a desperation that made your heart ache.

“You can’t leave me,” he whispered, the words barely audible, as if saying them louder might break him entirely. “Please. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Tears spilling down your cheeks as you stepped toward the door, you whispered: “You don’t know how to love, Dazai.”

He sank to his knees then, his head bowing low as if he were trying to disappear into the floor. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw and broken. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to be anything but this. But I love you. God, I love you.”

You froze at the door, your hand gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles turned white. For a moment, you thought about turning back, about kneeling down beside him and telling him that love could be enough, that it could save you both.

But it couldn’t.

“I love you too,” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough to fix the damage.”

Opening the door, you stepped out into the cold night, the sound of it closing behind you echoing like a gunshot.

Dazai stayed where he was, his body trembling, his hands clutching at the floor as if it were the only solid thing left in his world. The apartment was silent now, save for the sound of his ragged breathing.

He stayed there for hours, alone in the dark, his mind replaying every moment, every mistake, every crack that had led to this. And when the sun rose, spilling light into the room, it illuminated nothing but the hollow emptiness he’d tried so hard to avoid.

In the end, he realized, it wasn’t you he’d been trying to save. It was himself. And now, he had lost both.

The argument had begun as a flicker of irritation, something small enough that it could have been smothered if either of you had tried. But neither of you did. It grew, feeding on unspoken frustrations, on misunderstandings too deeply buried to untangle in the heat of the moment.

Lit only by the glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds, the apartment was dim. Chuuya stood in the middle of the room, his fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling with shallow, ragged breaths. His hat had been tossed carelessly onto the couch, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration.

“I’m trying to keep you safe!” he shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls.

“You’re not listening to me!” you snapped back, your own voice trembling with the weight of the argument. “You never listen, Chuuya! You think you can decide everything for me, like I don’t have a say in my own life!”

He turned sharply, his blue eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. “You don’t understand what it’s like out there! You don’t know what these people are capable of! I’m doing this for you!”

“For me?” You let out a bitter laugh, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re doing this because you can’t let go of your own fears! You’re so used to fighting everyone else’s battles that you can’t see I’m not the enemy!”

Chuuya’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face twitching as he tried to rein in the storm inside him. But the storm was relentless, and it spilled out before he could stop it.

“You don’t get it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You have no idea what it’s like to carry this kind of weight—to know that one wrong move could mean losing the only person you—”

Though he cut himself off, his voice faltering, the damage was already done. The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, and it pressed down on both of you like a tangible force.

Taking a step back, your hands trembled at your sides. “I’m not a child, Chuuya. I don’t need you to control every part of my life. I just need you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” His voice rose again, sharp and cutting. “How am I supposed to trust you when you keep putting yourself in danger? Do you think I can just stand by and watch you get hurt?”

As his anger filled every corner, the room felt like it was shrinking, the walls closing in. He moved closer, his movements sharp and unsteady, and before you could step away, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

The grip wasn’t meant to hurt—it was meant to stop you, to hold you in place, to make you listen. But it was too tight, too rough, and the heat of his frustration burned through his touch.

“Chuuya,” you said softly, your voice shaking. “Let go.”

But he didn’t. His fingers tightened slightly, his knuckles white as his grip mirrored the storm raging inside him. He was too far gone, too consumed by his own emotions to realize what he was doing.

“Why can’t you just—” His voice cracked, and he stopped, his words hanging in the air like broken glass.

You tried to pull away, but his grip held firm, and panic began to rise in your chest. Memories you had buried deep began to surface, unbidden and cruel.

A voice from your past, cold and unyielding. “You think you can just walk away? You’ll never be free of this. Never.”

Colliding with the past in a whirlwind of fear and pain, the room around you blurred. Your breaths came faster, shallow and uneven, and the tears you had been holding back spilled over, streaming down your cheeks.

“Chuuya,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Please.”

The sound of your voice—cracked, pleading—broke through the fog of his anger. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he froze, as though realizing for the first time what he was doing.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. He released your wrist as though it had burned him, stepping back as if the distance could erase the moment.

Though you cradled your wrist against your chest, your body trembling as you tried to steady your breathing, the fear lingered, a shadow that refused to be banished.

Softly, he called out your name, his voice thick with regret. “I—fuck, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t—”

Yet, you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words caught in your throat, strangled by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

Chuuya’s hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to reach for you or keep his distance. His eyes, usually so fierce and determined, were filled with something you had never seen before—fear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words barely audible. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Bluntly, you looked up at him then, your eyes filled with tears, and for the first time, he saw the crack in your armor—the vulnerability you had always tried so hard to hide. And it broke him.

He sank to his knees in front of you, his head bowed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “I never wanted to hurt you. I—” He stopped, his words failing him, and he let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to love someone without breaking them.”

As you watched him, your heart ached at the sight of him so utterly wrecked. And despite everything, despite the fear and the pain, you found yourself reaching out, your hand brushing against his cheek.

Looking up at you then, his eyes were filled with anguish, and for a moment, the storm between you seemed to quiet.

“Chuuya,” you said softly, your voice still trembling. “We can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep—”

“I know,” he said quickly, cutting you off. “I know, and I swear, I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just—don’t walk away. Please.”

The desperation in his voice broke something inside you, and you nodded, though you weren’t sure if it was forgiveness or hope or something in between.

But as he pulled you into his arms, his grip careful and gentle this time, you couldn’t help but wonder if the cracks in your relationship were too deep to mend. And in the quiet of the room, as the storm finally subsided, you both realized that love wasn’t always enough to fix what had already been broken.

Always being harsh, Akutagawa’s words were sharp enough to wound, his presence suffocating like a shadow that never left your side. He wasn’t kind, not in the way others might be, but he cared in his own jagged, brutal way—protecting you with the same ferocity he used to destroy. You were his tether, his calm amidst the storm of his life in the Mafia, the one person who softened the edges of his wrath. But even tethers could fray, and that day on the battlefield, everything unraveled.

Unraveling so, the fight was chaos, the kind of chaos Akutagawa thrived in. His Rashoumon tore through enemies like paper, his focus deadly, precise. You stood at his side, as you always did, fighting with everything you had to survive in a world that rarely spared you kindness. But the enemy was relentless, and the tide of the battle began to shift.

“Stay back!” he barked, his voice cutting through the noise. His tone was sharp, impatient, but beneath it lay something unspoken—a thread of fear he refused to acknowledge.

“I can handle this!” you shot back, your determination blazing in your eyes.

Yet Akutagawa’s patience, already worn thin by the heat of battle, snapped. “You’re a liability,” he snarled, Rashoumon lashing out in a violent arc, meant to clear the way and shield you from the enemy closing in.

He miscalculated.

Instead, the tendrils of his power struck you, slicing through flesh and bone, sending you crumpling to the ground with a scream that cut through the battlefield like a blade. Blood pooled beneath you, stark against the dirt, and Akutagawa froze, the world narrowing to the sight of your broken body lying in the wreckage of his mistake.

Afterwards, the fight ended in a blur, your enemies retreating as the full weight of his actions crashed down on him. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out, unsure if he even had the right to touch you now. “Stay awake,” he ordered, his voice unsteady, the fear breaking through. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

Coughing weakly, blood stained your lips as you looked up at him, pain and betrayal flickering in your gaze. “You… you did this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Akutagawa’s chest tightened, his breath catching as the truth of your words settled over him like a noose. He did this. To you. To the one person he swore to protect above all else.

The weeks that followed were a blur of pain and silence. You survived, but the scars—both visible and invisible—ran deep. You couldn’t look at him the same way, flinching when he raised his voice, shrinking away when his hands moved too quickly.

Trying to fix it in his own way— he muttered cold apologies under his breath, offers to train you harder so you wouldn’t need his protection, promises he didn’t know how to keep. But nothing worked. The damage was done.

One night, the tension broke.

“You don’t trust me anymore,” he said, his voice low but laced with a bitterness that cut through the room.

Slowly, you turned to him, your eyes tired, your body still healing from wounds he had inflicted. “How could I?” you replied, your voice trembling. “You’re supposed to protect me, Ryuunosuke. Not—” Your voice broke, and you looked away, unable to finish.

For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Then, with a voice that was quieter than you’d ever heard, he said, “I know.”

And he did know. He knew the pain he caused, the fear that lingered in your eyes whenever you looked at him now. He knew he had crossed a line he could never uncross.

Knowing didn’t make it easier. It didn’t make the silence between you any less deafening, or the nights spent alone any less cold. It didn’t stop him from replaying that moment over and over in his mind, the sight of you bleeding because of him seared into his memory like a brand.

He still loved you, but love wasn’t enough to undo what he had done. It wasn’t enough to erase the fear in your eyes or the distance growing between you. And now, as he stood in the shadows, watching you from afar as you tried to rebuild yourself, he wondered if it would have been kinder to let you go entirely.

Yet, Akutagawa didn’t know kindness. He only knew how to hold on, even when it hurt. Even when it was the last thing he deserved.

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yorsgirl · 11 months ago

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Perhaps, in another realm

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: An elixir of life – you, destined solely for his consumption. Yet, in his pursuit, he forgot, he sipped away your essence, your breath of life.

Tropes: Dark romance, Historical fiction, Angst, fluff.

Warnings: implied nsfw, implied forced intimacy, forced marriage, baby-trapping, knife play, yandere themes, isolation, trauma, one-sided love implied, non-explicit violence, mild stockholm syndrome(to empathize with one's captor), misogyny, minor character death, healthily unhealthy relationship, Sukuna being a red-green flag, Sukuna has eyes for no one except his wife.

General Warnings: Heian Era, strict Japanese setting, usage of Japanese terms(glossary provided), True form!Sukuna, husband!Sukuna, wife!reader, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 3.7k

Glossary || Pictures

Ryomen Sukuna beholds secrets which he musn't.

Each dawn's awakening, he notes the sun's radiant dance on your irises. Marking the gentle arc of your lips, a telltale sign of mirth's embrace. By the garden's edge, he watches as the winds tousle and play with your hair curls.

With each flicker of your essence, he can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his own inability to guard his heart against the allure of your presence. Each time your unpredictability unfolds before him, he curses his own vulnerability for the arising tenderness within him.

It vexes him deeply.

Gnawing at the recesses of his, once assumed, dormant heart. Yet, now brought to life by unknown sensations – fuzzy and irksome.

An elixir of life – you. Meant to be solely consumed by him.

Your intricate curls destined to be twirled in his fingers alone. Singularly, he'd stand as the privileged observer, captivated by your brilliant elegance. Your figure draped in the resplendent folds of an opulent kimono, delicately bestowed upon you by his hands.

Thus, he embarked on the sole course he could comprehend – take you.

Splitting you away from the familiarity of a family, hearth and hamlet; for in his eyes, your fragile essence demands his safeguarding against this wicked, cruel realm.

Persuading you, that a life enfolded in his embrace had no reason for trepidation. Your purity, too immaculate to endure the harshness of existence.

Yet, persuasion faltered; your resolute heart held no inclination to remain in his grasp. Mounting a relentless siege, to break free from him and his distorted path.

"You crave peril as I assume, so be it," He conceded. "But know this: I'll be the sole peril haunting your very being."

Pressed beneath the weight of his body upon the bed, your resistance proves to be futile against his strength. Leaving you ensnared in a struggle where defiance falters in presence of his immense power.

"Isn't this what you desired? Didn't you yearn for peril?" He questions, his forefinger trailed across the delicate curve of your neck, assessing the rhythmic beat of your pulse point.

"Fear not, I shall burn the world down to literal ashes until none poses a threat to you, save for me, of course."

For danger, befalling upon you while his eyes held the witness and hands were the forebearer of pain – he'd allow. After all, he embodied peril, haunting humanity for centuries.

"My dearest," He began, twirling a blade before your defiant gaze. "I've wielded this to afflict your kin but fear not, it shall yield pure ecstacy for you."

Said so, he thrusted the timber end of the blade within your slick, delicate folds. Your screams shunned out over his malevolent laughter, fingers twisted the cotton sheets as he glided the blade in-and-out of you.

Blood dripped down his wounded hand, staining the white to red, yet his countenance held no response to pain. Gaze fixated upon your shuddering form, underneath him.

He was no stranger to the acts committed in bed. Knowledgeable of all ministrations and threads he needed to ensnared in order to make it pleasurable. Yet, you found no pleasure in this undoing.

The act of intimacy, which you envisioned to be filled with love while your lover would pepper kisses on your skin much akin to the gentle touch of spring's warmth.

That dream left shattered like shards of glass when your chastity was cruelly left to ruins under his harsh caress.

The night stretched on, your anguish unending as he remained vigilant, subjecting you to his torment.

When it ceased, he gingerly held your fragility while tears streamed down your eyes. He cradled your head in his palm, enfolding your trembling form against his chest as he murmured endearments into your parched ears.

You feebly hit on his chest, for you were seeking comfort from your captor – a sickening act.

He brought you pain and despair, yet here he was, bringing you solace in his arms. A sickening man, indeed, he was.

And with him, you were to stay.

You kneeled before the shrine deity.

Decked in a white shiromuku with traces of pink pattern embellishing the fabric, haori lowered just above your lips – grateful to the one who dressed you. Moisture laden lashes would've been a sight for sore eyes.

Beside you, your husband knelt. A black montsukini hakama draped around your self-proclaimed fiance and soon to be husband. Perhaps, you'd have seized the moment to admire him in such a lavish attire if he didn't commit the acts he did.

Abduction and coercion reigned heavy on your mind, the priest's chanting muffled over your loud thoughts. Your fear of the impending, palpable.

Later, you stood by his side, bedecked in jewels, unknown to you. Countless villagers and curses bowed before you but you were a foreigner to such deference.

It was his decree. For he was the King of curses and you – his consort, his queen.

Sukuna witnessed you gazing at the pond situated in his garden.

You gazed upon the lotus blooming at the heart of the pond, longingly. Reaching out for it, the trailing end of your garment splashed in the water – a futile attempt, too distant to grasp.

He stifled a snort on the brink of his lips as he descended into the garden, tethering on the stoned pads placed in between soil – approaching you.

"You desire that flower, wife?"

You rose swiftly, clutching the dampened hem of your attire. Refusing to meet his gaze, you brushed off the fabric, clearing away the soil.

"Apologies," You murmured. "I was just curious."

"That doesn't answer my question." He stated, an arch of his eyebrow at your frame. "Do you yearn for it?"

Standing before him, a hush lingered in the air, mere seconds passing. Fingers fidgeting, you nibbled on your inner cheek.

"Perhaps," you admitted, finally locking eyes with his feet once he takes a step forward. Bracing for the inevitable, you tightly shut your eyes.

You shouldn't have considered it. Entertaining the thought of plucking it behind his back, hoping he wouldn't notice, all the while unaware of his presence. You should have realized. Defiance in the past had met harsh retribution. This would be no exception.

"I beg–"

"Enough," He interjected.

You gritted your teeth, fists clenched tightly. This was worse. A single mistake, and you're sealed to a worse fate.

Yet, the vision never bore life.

He took your right hand, delicately clasping it within his own. Slowly, he pried open each finger, tenderly placing something within. Curiosity overrides your apprehension, and you cautiously open your eyes – finding the lotus nestled in your palm.

Your lips parted in astonishment as you gaze up at him, wonderstruck.

"Apologies should not leave your lips for trying to claim what is rightfully yours." He asserted, a ghost of an arc perched upon his lips.

"You desire something, you speak up," He waited, letting the words sink down. "Its upon me, how I'll bring it to fruition."

"You are to accompany master to dinner tonight," Uraume conveyed, head and eyes lowered in a humble bow.

The fusuma slid shut, signaling their departure, leaving you to your solitude once again.

Lately, companionship has been ceased from your existence. Confined to your chambers by Sukuna's decree that none other than he should share a moment with you. Save for his devoted servant and few maids he deemed worthy, who prepared you for the day.

Upon your bed, you rested, gazing into a void. Softly humming a melody, reminiscent of a distant song, echoing from the depths of your memory; harkening down the familial embrace in your ancestral village.

The day commenced to dusk, the sky donning a cloak of darkness – welcoming the night's silhouette.

Attended by chosen handmaidens, you were draped in a lavish kimono of crimson and ivory. Crushed red cherry paste graced your lips, a stroke of kohl ran along your lashlines.

You beheld your reflection, lovely; yet the joy eluded you. Unable to savor your captivating visage amidst your plight.

You were escorted to the dining hall by Uraume. As the doors parted, your captor, your husband, awaited you; seated on the head of the table. You took your place across him, evading his malevolent stare, your attention fixed solely on the delicacies presented by the servants.

"Afraid to meet my gaze, wife?" He inquired, his smirk palpable in his tone.

Still, you didn't meet his gaze, eyes fixed on your folded hands resting neatly on your lap. "I fear, I am not deserving to meet your eyes, your highness."

His sight danced upon your figure, measuring you as though you were his quarry. A chuckle escaped him as he poured the sake in his ochoko, indulging in a sip.

"Amusing, how you speak so when you are moons away from birthing my offspring, wife."

Your frame grew rigid, lips drawn tight whilst you glanced at your burgeoning womb.

Restraints couldn't bond you to him forever, he comprehended that moons past. Thus, he had to resort to unruly stratagems. Seeding you with his progeny – rendering you incapable of fleeing him.

If only, you acquiesced and remained by his side, as he craved, he wouldn't have acted thus. But your resolve left him with no alternative.

Not a matter to ponder his head upon, he would've planted his seed in you eventually. A kinship with you, his aspiration.

"I wouldn't leave you famished in such a state, wife. Begin eating." He declared, slicing a strip of meat with his chopsticks.

Eating, as if it were possible in such a condition. The satisfaction of a hearty meal has long deserted you. You didn't suspect the flavors of dishes perched before you. Furthermore, you lacked appetite.

You partook in meals solely to survive.

With adjoined palms, you offered a silent prayer to the almighty reigning above you. And so, you began.

Blood bathed the tatami mats of your chambers.

A severed head of a, newly appointed, handmaiden, laid near your feet. Her corpse, probably resulted into hundreds– no thousands of strips, indistinguishable.

Your stance remained rigid and motionless. Terror evident on your countenance, fragile fingertips shaking with shock and apprehension.

"Ah wife," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. He approached you, stepping over the puddle of blood and sliced flesh.

"You weren't supposed to witness that– come," He gingerly caressed your skin, ushering you out of his chambers with a hand on your back.

"Uraume," He summoned his loyal servant, as on cue, they knelt before their master. "Have the maids tidy this mess."

With the subtle nod, Uraume pivoted around, carrying out their master's command alike a proclamation from thee almighty.

Snapping a life wasn't on his schedule today. He wished to spent it with you, hence summoning you back to your chambers.

Perhaps, a foolish handmaiden, attracted by his visage, made the decision to lure him with her appeal. Lowering her uniform to display her curve of of breast, singing praises of his brilliance to him.

Taken him to be resembling any ordinary man, giving into his desires by just any woman's revealed skin. Alas! He had no interest in any woman other than his wife.

An act of like that, only receives the treatment he'd bestow upon any mortal other than you.

Death.

"I must say, you look lovely, my queen." Twirling a strand of your hair, he pushed it behind your ear.

Upon the engawa of your husband's abode, you knelt, sight fixated on the swarm of fireflies illuminating the garden.

Sukuna held his stance beside you, lower two hands bearing his weight behind, the third perched upon his arched knee. He set the kiseru down with the fourth, his thumb and forefinger lifted your chin; coaxing your towards him.

"Intriguing, you are," He remarked, eyebrow arched.

"Such defiance you displayed upon our initial union, and now, you show indifference. Continuously subjecting me to such blank stares and compliance." A hint of exasperation lingered his tone.

"Isn't that what you wished for?" You retorted, a moment later.

Drawing you near, his lips brushed against yours, "Perhaps, I did do." He murmured, breath caressing your cheeks, prompting a flutter of your eyelids.

"But now, I yearn for something greater."

With that, he seized your lips in a fervent, fiery kiss. Only parting, a hair's breath away, to allow you to catch your breath.

He pivoted you gently, drawing you into his embrace. Two arms encircled your waist, one caressing your swollen belly. Third, Brushing aside your hair, you heard the tinkling of ornaments. Moments later, a chain adorned your neck, a crimson gemstone nestled between your collarbones.

"Ruby?"

"Rubies are ill-suited during pregnancy, its diamond" He corrected, whispering beside your ear, securing the clasp of the chain. "Unlike most, this one's tint sets it apart than rest."

"For what?" You questioned, assessing the gem like it were poison. Grasping it between your middle finger and thumb, the lantern lights reflected on its surface. Though small, you knew it amounted to more than your ancestral wealth.

"Do I need a reason to spoil my wife with jewels?"

A moment passed in silence, your gazed him through your peripheral vision, the next. "Perhaps not, its beautiul."

"Turn around," He commanded, you complied instinctively. Turning your body to face him.

His gaze met yours at first, second they drifted to the chain bedecked on your neck and on third, he glanced at both, at once.

The jewel's radiance evoked with you being it's wearer.

A grin cracked upon his lips, gingerly holding your cheek in his calloused hands in which you begrudgingly leaned in. With a mouth, summoned on his palm, he placed a chaste kiss on your skin.

"Just how Intriguing you are, wife."

Love for your son eluded you.

A splitting image of his father with the identical hair and carmine tinted eyes. You pondered if he'd grow up to be just like your husband.

At days, you couldn't muster the courage to cast your eyes upon him. His mere presence: a testament to your plight, evidence that you were no longer the woman you once were and evidence to your compliance to Sukuna's desires.

Even then, you never shied away from your duties as a mother.

Perhaps, some love existed, for he wielded your flesh and blood too.

You were rendered from ever escaping. Though half-heartedly, you didn't wish to leave your child with Sukuna even though you despised both of their existence.

In this era, nurturing a child as a sole woman was beyond grasp. For all held the thought, as a woman your sole duty was to remain by your husband's side and bear his offspring.

You couldn't return to your home either. Your father, though loved you, would never let you set foot in his abode ever again.

Reasons: You were abducted by a man, your chastity stripped off of you. You were no longer pure in any sense.

He wouldn't tarnish his family name and reputation for just a daughter.

Moreover, your matrimony with the wicked, king of curses had reached rivers far; binding you to his side forever.

Peril loomed at every turn, dangling your life by a single thread. Easily snapped by even the weakest of men. Sukuna's adversaries would leave no stone unturned to reach him, venturing as far to lay down the life of his innocent wife. Someone absolved of his transgressions.

Reluctantly, you accepted that remaining by his side was the wisest decision.

You cradled your son in your embrace, rocking him back and forth as you hummed a lullaby to put him to sleep.

Once his snores serenaded the room, you tenderly placed him upon his cot, adjacent to your own resting place. Gentle pats graced his chest, once you noted him stirring in the embrace of slumber.

"Come to bed," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. Compliance swiped in your being, a swift rotation of your heels after you had checked your son to be far from awakening. You parted the curtains and perched upon the bed – lying beside your husband.

His arms encircled around your waist, drawing you to his chest, he inhaled your scent.

Your body tensed when his lips brushed against your nape. You dreaded the inevitable.

Six moons had passed, since he last embraced you intimately. The last two, post your son's arrival, were a blur of exhaustion. From tending to your physical strain and catering to your son's ceaseless crave of attention.

Tonight, all you longed for was to surrender yourself to slumber, wrapped in embrace of gentle linens. Alas, it seemed that wish would remain unfulfilled.

You were keenly aware of his intentions tonight – for he was but a man. Thus, you braced yourself.

You waited in anticipation, for him to act on his desires. Yet, it did not come to pass.

You cracked your eyelids open, stealing a glance at him. His carmine eyes met yours in a resolute stare, holding it with unwavering poise.

"Retire to sleep," he finally remarked, tenderly brushing aside the tendrils from your weary visage.

A year prior, during the early nights of your newly forged union, you would have taken a moment to contemplate his actions, perhaps even staying awake the entire night to discern his intentions.

Now, whether out of trust or simply exhaustion from the demands of motherhood – you found yourself slipping into a dreamless slumber without further ado.

The haunting nightmare of humanity, he was; yet, you found solace in falling asleep in his embrace.

His son has taken just after you.

Verily, his offspring could be likened unto a veritable likeness of himself in countenance, yet in comportment and carriage, he bespoke tales of you.

Awaking to the crack of dawn, shedding tears should companionship elude him. Taking solace in the embrace of the verdant garden, to which you oft escorted him. Even directing reproachful glances towards him, his father, whilst cradled lovingly in his paternal arms.

Beneath your eyes lay heavy shadows, hollows etched upon your cheeks, and a perpetual frown graced your lips, save for moments spent conversing with your offspring.

Sukuna escorted his sobbing kin from their chambers, affording you the much-needed respite that has eluded you of late; his offspring casted a disdainful gaze upon him.

"What? Speak up if you wish to," He queried, a playful lilt adorning his speech.

He tenderly traced his son's tender cheek with his claw, wary of leaving any mark upon his cherubic visage. His son seized his finger in both tiny hands, elevating it as though clutching a covert weapon – scrutinizing the nail and the ridges with keen interest.

His little one beamed, a gesture akin to the gentle breeze of summer, bestowed upon him by the heavens above. A giggle swift past his lips – a laughter, he assumed angel's melody wouldn't sound better.

His smile was yours – Sukuna realized. Perhaps, he hadn't completely taken after him in physical features.

Rocking his form back and forth on his arms, a tender smile danced upon his lips.

"Lower the tone, child. Your mother rests inside."

Sukuna couldn't help but contemplate alternative scenarios.

He sipped his sake, his gaze fixed upon your figure, leaning against the amado – your eyes lingering on the cherry blossom trees outside, in the garden.

The fragrance of spring permeated the air, imbuing a soothing atmosphere, starkly contrasting with the terror he instilled upon the village beyond the river.

At moments such as these, he can't help but ponder on the possibility of attaining a kinship with you, without resorting to unruly methods.

His thoughts rewind to the clash conversation he shared with you, mere moments past.

In your gaze, defiance ablazed, aimed straight at him.

"What's your intent? To end my life? Proceed, now. Who held you back? Proceed. Perhaps, I'd choose that fate over spending another day with you."

"Make no mistake," You pressed on. "My sentiment for you isn't love, don't deceive yourself. What festers within me is pure, unadulterated hate."

How could he let slip from memory? A curse he was, brutal and unyielding. Unwelcomed, marked with shame – The disgraceful one. How could he fail to recall? Love's realm, forever beyond the reach of his reach.

He seized you, by means unorthodox yet deemed vital. Yet, he finds himself lost in contemplation.

What if he had treaded a different path?

Would a love aglow your heart if he had courted you in a proper manner? Would you accept him in your life – a husband, a companion, a lover? Would you had willingly become his?

For your presence brought his heart back to life; in doing so, the life and light was lost from your eyes.

Scorned by the desire to claim you as his, the thought of your own desires, feelings was pushed to the desolate corners of his mind.

In another realm, he assumes– in another realm, he might have treated you properly from the very beginning.

In another realm, you wouldn't have to have a lingering threat struck on your mind. You wouldn't fear him.

In a realm beyond, you'd stand beside him by choice, not coercion. A realm where he'd navigate every step flawlessly. A realm where, instead of vowing to set the world ablaze for you, he'd pledge to journey with you until the world's end.

Perhaps, in another realm, you'd fall in love with him like he did for you in this.

A/N: uhm uhm uhm, just typed down an idea which I had for days + I used a new format of literal english (idk how it turned out, I am so sorry if it's cringe 😭) + I fucking don't know how to end stories so bear with me.

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twilightkitkat · 4 months ago

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Thinking about the reaction another universe's Logan would have to meeting Wade. To Wade and Logan's relationship.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

---

Imagine a Logan who didn't lose the X-men, who still has his "family," but who still has his walls sky high. Who is still an alcoholic (albeit less chronically than our Logan) and still keeps everyone at a distance despite craving company like a moth to a flame. Who purposely isolates himself, denying it under the guise of indifference, out of fear of rejection. Who tries to protect himself by building a fortress around himself only to result in nobody being able to scale those impenetrable walls.

Who has people around him (Jean, Scott, Charles) but still feels alone in the world. Who is physically present (showing up at dinnertime, attending meetings, occasionally completing missions alongside them) but emotionally absent. Who tries so hard to try to be there, to be emotionally open, to give back what he's received, but fails spectacularly.

And everyone else notices. But they don't say anything, afraid of breaking the careful balance that keeps Logan just close enough to touch but just far enough that their fingers only manage to graze him. And so they keep up this balancing act, getting used to the tenseness and slightly uncomfortable silences.

They resign themselves to it eventually. To only being able to climb halfway and receive messages through a window.

And Logan resigns himself to this loneliness too. In 200 years, nobody has managed to break through. Why would they be able to now?

Imagine this Logan meeting the current Wade.

Wade was sent on some kind of mission by the TVA to investigate a disturbance in the timeline of this universe. His Logan offered to join him, but he turned him down. He felt uneasy bringing Logan to a universe where his team was still alive, where everything was eerily similar to his original universe except for their fate. He didn't want Logan to have to go through the pain of seeing the life he "could've" had if he hadn't been the "Worst Wolverine." (And, on a deeper level, he felt scared that Logan would realize that he was never enough to fill that void.)

And so he left a very reluctant Logan behind to delve into this alternate universe.

He stumbled out of the portal into some inconspicuous alleyway, brushing the grime off his suit. Lo and behold, he's in a big bustling city that looks almost identical to his own.

It doesn't take him long to begin investigating, searching for what could've caused the disruption in the timeline. He'd planned for this to be a quick mission, a one-and-done, clean-cut resolution so that he could get home in time to eat whatever scraps Logan had somehow managed to assemble into a decent-looking meal.

He was looking forward to eating dinner with Logan and Blind Al. To pressing his leg against Logan's a bit too closely to be platonic—but not yet explicitly romantic—and feeding Mary Puppins under the table to Logan's protest.

And yet, after hours of searching for clues and interrogating mercenaries and shady guys who knew about underground operations, he was stumped.

And so, naturally, when the bad guys didn't have the information he wanted, he turned to the good guys.

Unfortunately, the Avengers weren't particularly active (at least publicly) at the moment, and so he turned to the very group he'd been hoping to avoid: the X-men.

Maybe breaking into their mansion through a window on a random Tuesday wasn't the best way to make an impression, but it got the job done.

However, the X-men seemed to disagree on that front, considering how the few that had been inside (barely any he recognized) were all tensing up and drawing their weapons.

"Woah woah woah," Wade put his hands up in the air placatingly, "Slow your roll. I'm not here to cause trouble for you guys. I know it looks bad but I promise I'm here for very important, very legit, very legal, reasons."

"...Reasons that require you to break and enter?" some random X-man Wade didn't care about asked.

"Yes, exactly!" Wade chirped. "I'm sure we're all very busy and I want to go home just as much as you all want to redecorate whatever the fuck this mansion aesthetic is."

"What's wrong with the aesthetic?" Colossus (finally, someone he recognized!) asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Don't worry about it, pal," Wade quickly deflected, "Anyway, straight to the point: do any of you guys know what the hell could be fucking up your timeline? Because, unfortunately, none of the assholes on the streets seem to know. And, even more unfortunately, I have to fix that."

"...What do you mean fucking up the timeline?" Jean asked, slowly.

"Well, it's a long story—"

—one that ended up with Wade sitting in the big bad office across from Charles Xavier, who took an obnoxiously sophisticated sip of his tea.

"So you're from another dimension," he starts with.

"Yup, born and raised, baby."

"...And you're here because you believe there's something wrong with this timeline?"

"You know it. Although I don't see why we're going through the whole questioning shebang when you can just read my mind and get it over with," Wade leans back in the chair, his tone flippant.

"Well—"

Before Charles can finish speaking, the doors loudly slam open to reveal a very real and very angry Wolverine.

"Where is the fucker who broke in?" he growls, claws unsheathed.

"Right here, buddy," Wade grins and waves.

"Why is he still here and not locked up?" Other-Logan's fiery eyes flick toward Charles.

"Because—"

"—Because I'm here to save your ass, Wolvie. I wasn't the one who messed up your universe and I sure as hell wasn't the one who pissed in your cereal this morning, considering I, y'know, wasn't here."

Wolverine looks slightly taken aback at the audacity of Wade taunting him after breaking and entering.

"Now, not that I don't enjoy some eye candy—I really do, trust me—but can we finish this shit up so I can get back to my universe?" Wade eyed the tense, battle-braced posture Other-Logan was sporting, "And holy shit, peanut, we can try out pain play later but let's save the kinks for the bedroom, yeah? Put those claws away for now."

Wolverine looks like he's about to choke him or choke himself with the way he's clenching his fists in... anger? incredulity? Something to that effect.

And so began their very real, very legit, very spectacular journey to save the timeline! Unfortunately, the other X-men apparently had better shit to do (lazy fuckers), and so while they were out on their own pre-determined missions, Wolverine and Deadpool had to work together. Again. (Well, "again" for one of them.)

And it was going... okay. Surprisingly. They'd managed to locate a few places with suspicious activity using the X-men's network and while Wade would probably have to wait on that homemade dinner, the mission wasn't a total disaster so far (which was better than he could say for last time).

Except, there were a few... slip-ups.

It started when The Wolverine (because he wasn't His Logan, not to Wade) and Deadpool (because he wasn't His Wade either) were out raiding some base that had suspicious activity around when the timeline started having issues. They hadn't uncovered anything substantial so far, but there was definitely something shady going on. Call it a Spidey Sense.

Wolverine was slaughtering some enemies after threatening them within an inch of their life to spill their secrets, as usual, when one henchman (a mutant of some type, judging by the inhuman speed at which he moved) attacked him from behind. Wade didn't even have time to think, all he saw was Logan getting attacked and in an instant, he'd crossed the distance and embedded a katana in the fucker's head.

He knew Logan would heal. He did. But it didn't make it easier to look at him, bloodied and bruised, and not want to murder the person who caused it. It reminded him too much of the way Wade found Logan—reckless and suicidal, resigned to drinking himself to death and not caring how hurt he was.

(And, more than that, he just hated to see him in pain. He liked to think it was reciprocal, by the way Logan would slice someone into fucked up organ confetti the second they managed to land a good hit on Wade. He was always a bit more wound up on those nights, a barely tampered rage in his eyes and snarl to his lips that didn't subside until they were back in the apartment, out of their suits, where wounds stitched themselves up. Logan still had a shakiness to him, sometimes, until the injuries were fully gone. He'd thumb at a slash on his arm until the skin was back to the typical scar tissue instead of a distinct cut.)

Wolverine looked back to see Deadpool on top of the mangled corpse.

"Just doing my job," Deadpool said cheerily, trying not to let his voice waver.

"...Sure, bub," Wolverine muttered, eyeing him a second longer before going back to whoever he was torturing.

Fuck.

And then it happened again.

They were taking a breather in the facility they'd just raided, sitting down to catch their breaths and compile their findings before setting off to the next one.

Wolverine was digging through some medkits nearby, despite being healed.

"Woah buddy," Deadpool started, "Don't you think it's a bit early to be getting drunk? I mean, I'm all for freedom of choice, but I don't think the Founding Fathers thought that choice would mean drinking straight rubbing alcohol."

Wolverine stopped, his muscles stiffening.

"...What makes you think I'm looking for rubbing alcohol?" he asked slowly, a tenseness to his voice that was separate from the normal level of annoyance.

Wade quickly realized his mistake. "Oh, y'know, a hunch. I have a sixth sense. Like Spiderman. But cooler! Like instead of a Spidey Sense I have a... uhhh... Deadpool Danger Detonator?"

Wolverine looked at him suspiciously as he continued to ramble, but eventually let it go. Thank god.

And again.

They were fighting some higher-level henchmen, for once. Seems that their trail was finally leading somewhere. These guys were fewer in numbers, but actually packed some bang for their buck and all seemed to have decently strong mutations and some weapons training.

Now, Logan and Wade frequently went on missions together. In fact, at this point, they almost exclusively did jobs together. (It was part of the reason it'd been so difficult to convince Logan to let this job go. It had become routine at this point to go together, to be a Package Deal, Two Parts of a Set, Partners.)

(He'd noticed how Logan would pace anxiously when he went on more dangerous missions by himself. How he'd try and fail to distract himself and inevitably end up on the couch, tense and waiting for Wade to come home before finally, finally, letting out a deep breath and letting his muscles unwind as Wade flopped down next to him. He knew and yet he just... couldn't... this time.)

Suffice to say, Wade knew Logan's attack patterns. He knew where he'd strike and the openings he'd leave and how to cover them. He'd fought him enough himself to tell when he'd use a feint and when he'd actually go for the kill.

And so, when they were pushed back to back, surrounded on all sides, Wade let himself fall into the natural rhythm of it all. Weaving in and out between Wolverine's attacks, throwing knives where he'd miss with his claws, covering his back, and doing a masterful job at eliminating the enemies.

And Wolverine noticed. Because of course he did. He'd glanced at Wade with something akin to surprise (or even recognition) a few times when he'd managed to match him precisely.

But it felt oddly... good to be matched. Wolverine was used to working alone, to having backup but never really working alongside someone else. He fought on the same team as the X-men, yes, and they did sometimes go on joint missions together, but he never felt equal to them. Like he could throw a punch and they'd match him exactly.

He was used to leading the group, to being on the front lines of the attack, to splitting off and doing his own thing. He'd never felt this type of ease when working with someone. Like he didn't have to glance over his shoulder to check their work or see if they'd been hurt.

And so, as they fell into a comfortable rhythm, Logan found himself smiling. A feral, gleeful thing.

At the joy of finally having a match. The animalistic thrill of getting to play with his prey together without the other person shying away or shutting him down.

Logan always had to toe the line between human and animal. Giving in just enough to his animal instincts to make him a useful tool, a sharp weapon, while still retaining his humanity enough to be palatable. He could never just let go and be both. Let the line disappear in the sand as he dipped his toes in and out of the tides without feeling like someone was yanking him back or further in.

For the first time in his 200 years of existence, Logan felt free.

(When he finally came down from the adrenaline high, he looked at Wade with an indescribable expression. If Wade didn't know better, he'd almost say it looked like awe.)

And again.

They were bickering over something stupid. It doesn't matter how it started, only that now they both were bristling with annoyance and had their pride on the line.

"Can you shut the fuck up?" Wolverine growled, clenching his hands tightly.

"Or what? Is the kitty gonna unsheathe his claws?" Deadpool goaded, "Are you going to shish-kebab me? Stab me?"

"And if I do?" A challenging spark entered Logan's eyes.

"Been there, done that, honey badger. You'll have to get realllllll creative to top the Honda Odyssey," Wade smirked.

"What the hell does a car have to do with me murdering you?"

Deadpool blinked. Once. Twice. "Oh yeah, you wouldn't know that reference. Bummer. The point is, you aren't going to get anything out of impaling me. Except for the rise of a different type of weapon. If you get what I mean."

Wolverine gruffly retorted with some petty insult, but the searching look in his eyes didn't fade.

And again.

"C'mon Wolvie, you know I like it when you penetrate me, but let's try something new for a change, yeah? How about you hold me tenderly instead—" (Wolverine had never impaled him once.)

And again.

"Or what? What are you gonna say? 'Hey bub, I'm Wolverine, I'm The X-man and I'm masculine and I like woodworking and being a lumberjack in the forests of Canada.'" (Wolverine had never revealed that. To anyone, actually.)

And again.

"You know, maybe instead of drinking anything available, you can wait and I'll buy you some of the good stuff. I'll get you some beer and whisky on the house as long as you brave the very hard journey of staying sober for more than ten fucking minutes." (Wolverine had never told him his taste in alcohol.)

Until, finally—

"You know me."

"What?"

"You know me." It was a statement, not a question. Wolverine was looking at him with that same look in his eyes. The one he'd had since their first fight together where Deadpool had freaked the fuck out over someone nearly stabbing him.

"I sure hope I do, considering we've been working together for two days now," Deadpool chuckled, averting his eyes.

"No. You know me. You know me." Logan had a type of vulnerability in his eyes, one that he hadn't seen since he'd left his Logan behind.

"...What do you mean?" Wade asked, reluctantly.

"You know things about me that you shouldn't. But you couldn't have gotten it from anyone because nobody else knows them either. You know how I fight. What my habits are. What I like. What I hate. Therefore, you know me," he said, and that might be the most words Wade has ever heard this Logan speak at one time.

And Wade wants to deny it, if just to hurry along this mission and avoid the emotional turmoil of confronting his feelings with a Logan that isn't even his. But he sees the earnest look in Logan's eyes and he can't just ignore it. Can't deflect like he would for anyone else.

"...You're right, I do know you."

"How?" Logan's eyes are piercing, searching for answers. Desperately, almost. Like a man stranded in the desert, insatiably thirsty, who just learned that there's an oasis.

So Wade tells him. A short version, anyway. Tells him about snatching his Logan from another universe, getting thrown into the void, and then working together to save his world. Tells him about asking Logan to stay, and how they've been living together since. How they go on missions together and make dinner together and watch shitty reality TV together with Blind Al and their dog.

(Doesn't tell him how he refused to let his Logan come along, that he wanted to, that he'd do anything to keep his Logan with him even if it hurts to be away.)

Finally, the inevitable question comes up: "Why did Logan abandon his universe?"

And Wade tells him that too.

And Logan... doesn't know how to feel.

A part of him feels horrified. That there's a universe out there where he failed the X-men so horrendously. Where he drank himself into a stupor and stumbled back in to find them dead. Where he lived his entire life denying that he cares and building up his walls only for him to crumble anyway when they're gone (only for him to have nothing to reminisce on because of it).

But a larger part of him (a shameful, bitter part of him) feels envy curling around his chest, squeezing his heart and constricting his throat until he's barely able to breathe.

Because of course, it'd take losing everything that mattered to him right now to be able to find what he's been missing this whole time. He couldn't just be happy with the X-men, he had to be selfish and want more despite all they've done for him.

A greedy, wretched part of him thinks it'd be worth it. To throw it all away just so that he could have someone like Wade who talks about him not as a colleague, not as a teammate, but with a fondness so evident he could choke on it. Someone who knows Logan, not The Wolverine. Who cares about the little details like how he furrows his brow and what his favorite drink is and the exact pitch his voice takes when he genuinely laughs instead of just how quick he can kill enemies.

Someone who knows him as Logan—a selfish, possessive, scared, pathetic, insecure, asshole—and still wants him. Still loves him.

He's always had to hide parts of himself. Always had to don a mask of stoicism, careful indifference, and harsh words. Because then, people would hate him for that. They would push him away because he was rude, he was callous, he was brutal, but they wouldn't look deeper.

Because if Logan bared himself to someone as he is, vulnerable and terrified of losing those he loves, and they rejected him?

It'd be a worse fate than death.

But here Wade was, talking about him—as a person, not a hero—and smiling so visibly Logan can tell behind the mask, speaking of him warmly even when remembering how they used to fight.

Logan feels something unfamiliar in his gut. A concoction of jealousy, hatred, and... relief. Happiness. Possessiveness, even.

That he could be seen and loved despite it.

Logan knows what love feels like. Knows how it feels to care about people, despite how he acts. He knows how to feel protective and worried.

He's felt attraction before. To Jean, who had soft skin and a pretty smile and who always showed courage in the face of danger. To Scott, even, who commanded with a strength in his voice that sometimes had heat running through Logan's veins.

This is different.

This isn't just love. Isn't just attraction. It's yearning—awful, honest, raw yearning for something he desperately wanted but knew he couldn't have. Knew he shouldn't have.

But he wanted it. He'd felt empty for so long, even surrounded by people, even with people he cares about and who he knows reciprocate. He's been trapped in limbo for so long: never alone but always lonely, given enough scraps to stay in one place and fear loss while still feeling an itch under his skin for something more.

To be understood. To be seen. To be loved. To belong to someone instead of being a stray, wandering from door to door and taking whatever handouts he can while sleeping in their shitty garage.

Logan is an animal at heart, really. The Wolverine had always been inside him, influencing his feelings and emotions in a way normal humans couldn't quite relate to or understand.

And like all animals, the thing he wants the most is a home. A place to belong.

He stares at Wade as he continues rambling about the Logan from his world, talking with an energy he'd never had before.

A home, huh?

#poolverine #poolverine angst #deadclaws #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool movie #wade wilson #wade x logan #wade/logan #logan howlett #this is my first post #let me know if you want a part 2 #with actual logan pulling up #im going to try to post every day #lmk if you liked it and if i should continue :))#kitkat

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moonlight-joy · 30 days ago

Text

Just a Little Longer

Fandom: Kraven the hunter

Summary: You ask Sergei to stay, voicing your fear of losing him. Reluctantly, he agrees, breaking through his guarded nature. In the warmth of the firelit cabin, you share a rare, vulnerable moment, finding solace in his protective embrace as the world fades away for one peaceful night.

Pairing: Reader/Sergei Kravinoff

“Before you go, can you stay a little longer?” your voice broke through the stillness, softer than you intended, yet filled with an unmistakable plea. Sergei paused mid-motion, his broad shoulders tense as he turned to face you. His piercing gaze, usually so guarded, softened slightly at the edges as he studied your expression.

“Why?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, as if testing the waters of your request.

You hesitated, unsure how to explain the ache in your chest, the unspoken fear of watching him walk out that door again. The room was dimly lit, the fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows across his sharp features. He stood near the doorway, his gear slung over one shoulder, the essence of a man always prepared to face whatever the world threw at him.

“Because I… I just need you to stay,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “Just for a little while. Please.”

Sergei’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unnameable crossing his face. He set his gear down with deliberate slowness, as though giving himself time to consider your words. When he finally straightened, he closed the distance between you with a few long strides.

“You know I don’t stay in one place for long,” he said, his voice quieter now but still holding that firm edge of truth. “It’s not safe.”

“And out there is?” you countered, gesturing vaguely to the window. “You’re always on the move, always chasing or being chased. Just this once, can’t you let the world wait?”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he regarded you, a battle waging behind his eyes. Sergei was a man of action, a hunter who thrived on movement and purpose. Yet here you were, asking him to do the one thing he struggled with most: pause.

“What’s this really about?” he asked, his tone softening. “Tell me.”

You exhaled shakily, looking down at your hands as you tried to find the right words. “Every time you leave, I… I wonder if it’s the last time I’ll see you. If this will be the hunt you don’t come back from.” Your voice faltered, but you pushed on. “I just… I don’t want to say goodbye again, not tonight.”

Sergei’s expression softened further, and he reached out, his large hand gently tilting your chin upward so your eyes met his. “I always come back,” he said, his voice a low, steady promise.

“But for how long?” you whispered. “One day, you won’t. And I… I don’t know what I’d do then.”

The weight of your words hung heavy between you, and for once, Sergei had no immediate reply. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. His embrace was firm, grounding, and spoke of things he often left unsaid.

“I’ll stay,” he said after a long moment, his voice rough but resolute. “Tonight, I’ll stay.”

You closed your eyes, relief washing over you as you clung to him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear was a comfort, a reminder that, for now, he was here. For now, the world outside could wait.

The fire burned low in the hearth as the two of you sat together on the worn couch. Sergei had shed his gear, leaving it in a neat pile by the door, and now leaned back with one arm draped over the backrest. You sat beside him, your legs tucked under you, the warmth of the fire and his presence lulling you into a rare sense of peace.

“You’re not used to asking for things,” Sergei said after a while, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

You glanced at him, startled by the observation. “What makes you say that?”

He gave a small, knowing smile. “You hesitate. Like you’re afraid of what the answer might be.”

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “You’re not exactly predictable, Sergei. Sometimes I feel like you’re here one moment and gone the next.”

He didn’t deny it, instead nodding thoughtfully. “The life I lead doesn’t leave much room for staying still. But you…” He trailed off, his gaze turning thoughtful. “You’re different. You make me think about things I haven’t thought about in years.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “Is that a good thing?”

“It scares me,” he admitted, his honesty catching you off guard. “But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

The vulnerability in his voice was rare, and it made you reach for his hand instinctively. He let you take it, his calloused fingers wrapping gently around yours.

“You don’t have to be afraid with me,” you said softly. “I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.”

He squeezed your hand lightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re braver than I am,” he said, his tone carrying a touch of wonder.

“No,” you replied with a small smile. “I just know what’s worth fighting for.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to sit in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. The firelight danced across the walls, casting a warm glow over the room, and the world beyond the cabin seemed to fade away.

As the night deepened, Sergei stretched out on the couch, his head resting against the armrest. You found yourself lying beside him, your head on his chest and his arm draped protectively around you. The steady rise and fall of his breathing was soothing, and you felt yourself drifting closer to sleep.

“Thank you,” you murmured drowsily, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“For staying,” you replied. “For giving me this.”

He was silent for a moment, then pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Always,” he said quietly.

And in that moment, with the warmth of the fire and the steady beat of Sergei’s heart beneath your ear, you felt a rare sense of contentment. The world could wait, just a little longer.

#kraven #kraven the hunter #kraven x reader #kraven movie #kraven x you #sergei kravinoff #kraven the hunter movie #kraven the hunter x reader #aaron taylor johnson #aarontaylorjohnson

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thoughtdaughtersworld · 1 month ago

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Silent Lullabies Pt 2.

Azriel X f!reader

Summary: Y/n grapples with overwhelming grief and emotional turmoil.

TW!!: miscarriage, suicidal thoughts, emotional turmoil

Pls don't read if these things trigger you. Thank you guys for reading!!

*******************************************************

Azriel’s heart sinks as he realizes what’s happening. “No, no,” he whispers, his voice breaking. The shadows around him swirl in panic, mirroring the storm raging inside him.

"Rhys," Azriel says desperately, dropping his mental shields, his voice frantic and uneven. "Get Madja. Now. Something’s wrong with Y/N."

"On it," Rhys replies immediately, his tone sharp and firm. But it offers little comfort as Azriel turns his gaze back to you.

“We need to get you to Madja,” he says urgently, his hand moving to your stomach again, fear tightening his grip.

Without hesitation, Azriel lifts you into his arms and takes off, running as fast as he can toward the House of Wind. The wind whipping through his hair and stinging his eyes, but his only focus was on you.The way your body trembled, the way your breath was too shallow, too weak. You were in a state of shock, your mind reeling in denial and confusion..

By the time he reached the House of wind, Madja was already waiting, Rhys and Cassian close behind, their worry palpable.

“What’s happening?” Rhys demands, his eyes darting between you and Azriel.

“She’s in pain. There was blood. She just-” He exhales sharply, trying to steady himself, but the terror gripping his chest makes it near impossible.

Madja wastes no time. “Put her down. Now.” Her sharp gaze sweeps over you before she turns to the others. "I need everyone out. Except Azriel”.

Azriel gently lays you on the bed, brushing damp hair from your face. His touch is tender, his hands trembling slightly as he grips yours. “I’m here, love,” he murmurs, his voice soft yet resolute. “You’re not alone.”

Madja crouches beside you, her experienced hands moving quickly over your body, assessing, analyzing. Then she looks up, her face grave.

“You’re in early labor, Y/N,” she says, her voice urgent. “And you need to start pushing. Now.”

The words crash over you like a tidal wave. Your chest tightens, panic flaring in your veins.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head, denial wrapping around you like a vice. Your body feels too weak, too broken. “I-I can’t.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightens. “You can,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “You have to. You’re stronger than you know.”

Tears spill freely down your cheeks as you shake your head. “It hurts..I can’t-”

Azriel leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I know, love,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I know. But you have to push.”

A sob rips through you, but you nod weakly, drawing in a ragged breath before forcing all your strength into one final push.

And then relief. But the room was silent.

You wait, gasping, heart pounding, but the sound that should follow—the sound of your baby’s first cry never comes.

Madja doesn’t speak right away, her focus entirely on the unmoving infant in her hands. She taps his back, firm but gentle. Nothing.

“No,” you whisper, your vision blurring with fresh tears. “No, no—”

Azriel is frozen beside you, his entire body rigid with shock. The shadows around him stutter, unsure, lost.

Madja tries again, rubbing the baby’s back, willing him to move, to breathe, to live.

But the silence is deafening.

Finally, she looks up, her expression something you don’t want to name. Something you refuse to accept.

She doesn’t have to say anything. You know.

A strangled sob tears from your throat as you reach for him. “My baby.”

Madja hesitates only a moment before gently placing him in your arms. His tiny body is still warm, impossibly small against your chest. You cradle him, a raw, guttural wail escaping you.

Azriel wraps himself around you, his arms holding you together even as you shatter completely. His own tears fall freely now, his breath uneven, his hands trembling as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Azriel,” you sob, your voice desperate, broken. “Help. Please.”

He holds you tighter, his whole body shaking, his wings curling protectively around you as if he can somehow shield you from the unbearable weight of this loss.

Madja steps forward, hesitant. “Y/N…” she says softly, her voice thick with sorrow. “You have to let go.”

But you can’t.

You clutch your baby closer, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead, willing him to wake up, to cry, to do something. But there’s only silence. Only stillness.

Azriel's grip on you tightens, his heart breaking as he watches you unravel. He doesn’t tell you to let go. He doesn’t rush you. He just holds you through it, taking your pain into himself, as if by sheer will alone, he can carry it for you.

But when your arms finally loosen, when the last of your strength ebbs away, Madja gently takes the baby from you.

And the moment his small weight leaves your arms, you collapse against Azriel, your entire body shaking with grief so consuming it feels like drowning.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice raw and broken. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere.”

Madja steps back, giving you both space to grieve.

The silence that followed was unbearable, broken only by the sound of your quiet sobs and Azriel’s whispered reassurances as the world seemed to crumble around you.

*******************************************************The next day, you wake up with a heavy heart, the pain so overwhelming that you had passed out. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, a strange numbness settling over you like a suffocating fog. Your eyes wander the room until they land on Azriel, asleep in the chair, his face contorted with worry even in his dreams. His brows are furrowed, a sight you were always so used to smoothing away with a gentle touch.

You lay there in bed, the weight of your loss pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. All you wanted in that moment was to hold your son, to feel his warmth in your arms, to hear his tiny cries filling the silence that now seemed unbearable.

Slowly, you push yourself up, careful not to wake Azriel, and make your way to the windowsill. Fresh tears spill down your face as you climb onto it, the cool night air biting at your skin. The city stretches out before you, but it feels so distant. The thought of ending it all whispers through your mind, soft and enticing. It would be so simple, so painless. Just an escape from this unrelenting agony.

You close your eyes, letting the wind whip against your face, and for a fleeting moment, the idea feels like a release.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes flutter open, and you turn to see Azriel standing there, his body tense, his golden eyes wide with fear. He’s careful as he takes a step forward, his hand reaching out as if afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

Azriel could never put into words the terror that gripped him in that moment. Waking up to his shadows in a frenzy, only to see you perched on the edge, it was a sight he knew would haunt him forever.

His voice is rough with desperation. “What are you doing?”

Tears stream freely down your face as you whisper his name, your voice hoarse, broken. “Azriel… I should have died instead of him. I—I can’t live without my baby.”

Azriel feels something inside him shatter at your words. The raw, aching agony in your voice slices through him like a blade, leaving him bleeding and helpless. He has faced war, endured centuries of pain, but nothing, nothing could compare to the feeling of watching the person he loves teetering on the edge of despair.

Azriel’s breath shudders as he takes another slow step forward, his hands trembling at his sides. His wings twitch as if ready to propel him forward at the slightest sign that you might fall. His voice, usually so controlled, is laced with pure, unfiltered desperation.

“Please,” he whispers. “Come down, love. Just—just take my hand.”

You shake your head, your entire body wracked with silent sobs. “How can you even look at me? You should despise me, he was meant to be alive” you croak, your voice barely audible over the wind. “We had all those plans for our family. And now—” Your voice cracks, and you let out a choked sob. “Now there's nothing.”

“There is something,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “There’s me.”

Your eyes snap to his, and for the first time, he sees the true depth of your pain. It’s a black hole, swallowing everything in its path, pulling you further and further away from him.

Azriel takes another step forward, so close now that he could touch you if he reached out. “I know it hurts,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “I know this pain feels like it’ll never leave. But if you go,if you let this grief take you…I’ll lose you too.”

He shakes his head, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “And I can’t, Y/N. I won’t survive that. I need you.”

Tears stream down your face as you stare at him, at the way his body trembles with the effort of holding himself together. Your lips part, but no words come.

Azriel moves then, ever so slowly, reaching out his scarred hand. “Take my hand,” he pleads, his voice raw. “Please, love. Let me hold you.”

For a long, agonizing moment, you don’t move. Then, with a broken sob, you let go..not of life, but of the ledge.

Azriel moves faster than a breath, his arms locking around you, pulling you off the windowsill and against his chest. He stumbles back onto the floor with you in his grasp, his wings flaring to keep his balance.

And then you’re both on the ground, tangled together, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that it’s as if he’s trying to hold you together with his own strength.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers into your hair, rocking you gently as you sob into his chest. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go.”

You clutch onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world. And maybe, just maybe, he is.

The next day, a soft knock echoes through your room. You don’t respond. The door creaks open, and you hear the quiet footsteps of Rhys and Feyre entering. You don’t look at them. Your gaze stays fixed on the ceiling, the emptiness in your chest mirrored by the blankness of your stare.

“How are you feeling?” Feyre’s voice is gentle, barely above a whisper, as though she’s afraid to break the fragile silence.

You don’t answer immediately, your throat dry, your heart heavy. Finally, your voice comes, flat and devoid of emotion. “Like my son just died.”

The words hang in the air, sharp and jagged. Feyre flinches at the raw honesty, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Normally, you might have softened your response, tried to cushion the blow. But today? Today, you didn’t care. Today, you had a pass.

Rhys shifts uncomfortably, his usual confidence gone. He stands quietly, his hands in his pockets, his jaw tight as if he’s holding back his emotions at seeing you so broken.

Feyre takes a step closer, her face filled with anguish, but she doesn’t push. She doesn’t tell you it will be okay. She doesn’t try to offer empty platitudes. Instead, she kneels by your bedside, her hand resting lightly on yours.

“We’re here,” she says softly, her voice breaking just enough to reveal her pain. “For whatever you need. Whenever you’re ready.”

You don’t respond. You can’t.

After a long, heavy silence, they seem to understand that words won’t reach you right now. They exchange a quiet glance with azriel before leaving to attend to court matters, Not long after, Azriel approaches you. His presence is familiar, grounding in a way that should comfort you, but it only makes the ache in your chest deepen.

“Do you want something to eat?” he asks gently.

You shake your head.

“Love, you have to eat something,” he presses, his voice thick with concern. “You haven’t had anything since…” His voice trails off, as if saying the words will make them more real.

You finally turn your head to look at him. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, his usually sharp features dulled by grief and sleepless nights. The sight makes your heart clench with guilt. He was breaking too.

“Soup,” you whisper.

Instantly, the House prepares it, a warm bowl appearing on the nightstand. Without hesitation, Azriel takes it and settles beside you, spoon in hand. He feeds you in quiet patience, his free hand brushing against yours between bites, as if reassuring himself that you’re still here.

When you’re finally full, you murmur, “You should get some sleep, Az.”

His brows furrow. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been up here with me this whole time.” Your voice is weak, but insistent. “You need to eat too.”

Azriel exhales, his jaw tightening like he wants to argue, but the exhaustion weighing down his body betrays him. He reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. “I’ll eat,” he promises softly. “But I’m not leaving you.”

A week had passed, but nothing had really changed. The pain hadn’t dulled, and neither had the emptiness inside of you. It felt like the world was moving on, but you were stuck, frozen in time, haunted by the grief that weighed down your every step.

You had lost weight. The energy it took to even get out of bed some mornings was overwhelming. Most days, you were distant, a part of you dissociating from the reality around you. It was like you were watching everything from behind glass, everyone’s worried faces, their desperate attempts to help, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but the void that was slowly swallowing you.

There were days when you couldn’t even look at Azriel. When his eyes would meet yours, you’d look away, guilt gnawing at your insides. You didn’t deserve his love, his devotion. Not when you had failed him in the most unimaginable way. He deserved happiness, and you had robbed him of it.

Azriel noticed. Of course, he noticed. He was always there, sitting by your side, his presence unwavering, but even he couldn’t reach you anymore. The words he whispered to you, the soft touch of his hand, they didn’t seem to matter. His eyes, once filled with love, now carried a sorrow of their own.

He had tried to coax you out of the silence, to talk, to share your pain, but you wouldn’t let him in. It was like there was a barrier you had built, an impenetrable wall that refused to break. He didn’t know what to do anymore.

******************************************************

Azriel quietly slipped out of the room, careful not to disturb you. You had finally fallen into a restless sleep, though he knew it would be a long while before the weight of grief would allow you the peace of a true rest. His heart ached as he watched you, wishing there was more he could do to take the pain away. But for now, all he could do was give you space, even if it felt like everything was falling apart around him.

He made his way downstairs to the kitchen, his steps heavy, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. The hunger gnawing at his stomach barely registered, his appetite long gone in the wake of everything that had happened. But he knew he needed to eat, if only to keep himself moving, keep himself strong. Even though he could barely muster the energy to lift a fork, he forced himself to sit down and try.

As he stared at the food in front of him, Cassian walked in, his usual energetic presence subdued. The concern in his eyes was impossible to miss as he took a seat across from Azriel.

"You okay, brother?" Cassian asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Azriel looks up, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, though he hides it behind a mask. He offers a small, tight-lipped smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

Cassian doesn’t buy it, of course. He studies his brother’s face, sensing the unspoken pain and the weight Azriel is carrying. “You’ve been up there all day with her. How is she really doing?”

Azriel’s gaze drifts down to the empty plate in front of him. His fingers absently trace the edges of the porcelain. “"I don't know," he admits quietly, the words more fragile than he intended. “I feel like I’m failing her," he says, his voice barely audible. "She’s hurting, and I can’t fix it. I can’t fix this... any of this."”

Cassian’s expression softens.. "You’re not failing her. You’re with her, Az. That’s what matters. She needs you here, now. And when she’s ready, you’ll be there to help her heal. But you’ve got to take care of yourself too."

Azriel’s jaw tightens. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just feel like I’m losing her Cass,”he finally admits, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I don’t know how to help her through this. And it scares me.”

“I know you can’t. But sometimes... just being with someone is enough. That's all you can do right now.” Cassian’s voice is quiet but firm, understanding the depth of Azriel’s emotions. “You’re not alone in this, you know. We’re all here for you both.”

Azriel nods, but the words feel hollow, unable to fill the ache in his chest. He leans back in his chair, the silence between them heavy. He knew Cassian was right, but letting himself rest felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford..not right now.

#acotar #azriel angst #azriel x reader #azriel fic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #silent lullabies #azriel x you #pro azriel #acotar series

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w1w2 · 2 months ago

Text

Bored

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - Turning Your Goodbyes Into Hellos

Ningning x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 9,5k

Synopsis: After breaking Y/N’s heart out of fear, Ningning fights to prove her love.

Notes: And with that the series comes to an end.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The secluded garden on campus was a hidden gem, lined with blooming flowers and shaded by a canopy of trees that swayed gently in the breeze. The soft rustling of leaves filled the air, accompanied by the occasional chirp of birds and the distant hum of student chatter from elsewhere on campus. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow down, a sanctuary for anyone seeking a quiet moment of reflection.

But today, the stillness of the garden only amplified the tension that hung in the air.

Ningning stood by the small bench in the center, her fingers nervously twisting the strap of her bag. Her eyes darted around the garden, taking in the vibrant flowers and the neatly trimmed hedges, but none of it registered. Her mind was consumed by the knot of anxiety twisting in her stomach, a storm that had been brewing since Yunjin and Chaewon told her the plan.

She glanced down at her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, the screen glaring up at her with the same unchanging numbers. She was early, of course. She always was when her nerves got the better of her. But even the reassurance of being on time did nothing to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her head.

What if Y/N refuses to listen? What if I make things worse?

Her thumb hovered over the lock screen before she pocketed the phone, taking a shaky breath. She ran her hands through her hair, the familiar motion doing little to soothe her.

The crunch of footsteps on the gravel path broke through her spiraling thoughts, and her heart leaped into her throat.

Yunjin and Chaewon appeared first, their voices low as they exchanged casual conversation. From a distance, they might have looked relaxed, but Ningning could see the tension in their shoulders, the way their eyes darted briefly to her before quickly looking away.

Trailing just behind them was Y/N.

Ningning’s breath hitched.

Y/N’s head was tilted slightly as she laughed at something Chaewon said, the sound light and unguarded. It was a sound Ningning hadn’t realized how much she missed until now. Her hair caught the sunlight filtering through the trees, casting a warm glow around her. She moved with an effortless grace, and for a moment, Ningning felt like time had slowed to a crawl.

Everything about her was achingly familiar, the way she brushed her hair behind her ear, the way her laughter bubbled up like music, the easy confidence in her stride. Ningning’s chest tightened, the sight of her stirring a mix of emotions so overwhelming she couldn’t move.

The weight of regret crashed over her. How could she have been so foolish to let this go?

But then Y/N’s gaze landed on her.

The laughter stopped abruptly, her expression shifting from relaxed to confused. Her steps slowed as she took in the sight of Ningning, her eyes narrowing slightly.

And then the confusion gave way to something sharper.

Y/N’s features hardened, her eyes narrowing as her lips pressed into a thin line. “What is she doing here?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the stillness of the garden like a blade. There was no mistaking the edge of hurt beneath the sharpness, a wound still raw and bleeding.

Yunjin shifted uncomfortably, clearing her throat as if trying to ease the tension. “We thought you two should talk,” she said carefully, her words deliberate but strained. “You can yell at us later, but for now—”

“You thought wrong,” Y/N interrupted, her tone icy and resolute. She turned on her heel, her movements quick and final, but before she could leave, Chaewon reached out, her fingers wrapping gently around Y/N’s arm.

“Y/N,” Chaewon said softly, her voice calm but insistent. “Just hear her out. Please.”

Y/N stiffened, her shoulders tensing under Chaewon’s touch. Her gaze darted to Yunjin, then back to Chaewon, frustration flickering across her face. Slowly, she exhaled, the sound heavy with reluctance, and she turned back toward Ningning.

Her expression was guarded now, her arms crossing over her chest like a barrier. “Fine,” she said curtly, her voice cold and distant. “Say what you need to say.”

Ningning hesitated, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain they could hear it. Every carefully rehearsed word she had practiced the night before vanished from her mind, replaced by the suffocating weight of Y/N’s gaze.

“I... I’m sorry,” Ningning stammered, her voice trembling as she took a hesitant step forward. “For everything. For the way I ended things. For hurting you.”

Y/N’s laugh was bitter and harsh, devoid of any warmth. She shook her head slowly, disbelief etched across her features. “Sorry? That’s it? You think ‘sorry’ fixes anything?”

“No,” Ningning said quickly, panic rising in her chest as she shook her head. “I know it doesn’t. But I need you to know I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed further, her arms tightening around herself as though she needed the extra protection. “Then what did you mean, Ningning? Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you didn’t mean anything at all. None of it was real, was it?”

The words struck Ningning like a physical blow. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she felt as though the ground beneath her had shifted. “No,” she said frantically, stepping closer, her voice thick with desperation. “That’s not true. It was real, everything was real.”

Y/N scoffed, her lips curving into a bitter smile as she took a step back. “Then why did you do it?” she demanded, her voice rising with each word. “Why did you act like I was nothing? Like we were nothing?”

Ningning’s chest ached, the dam of her emotions finally breaking. Her voice cracked as she replied, “Because I was scared. I was scared of how much I felt for you, scared of what it meant. I thought... I thought if I pushed you away, it would hurt less than admitting how much I cared. But it didn’t. It hurts every day.”

Y/N’s expression faltered, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the anger. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by a steely resolve. She shook her head, her voice trembling with a mix of sadness and frustration.

“I can’t do this, Ningning,” Y/N said, her tone softer now but no less resolute. “I can’t keep letting you hurt me.”

She turned sharply, her steps hurried and unsteady as she made her way toward the garden’s exit. Ningning’s heart lurched, panic overtaking her as she reached out instinctively, her hand catching Y/N’s wrist.

“Wait,” Ningning pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation.

Y/N froze but didn’t turn around.

Ningning stepped closer, her grip gentle but firm. “Please, just... don’t walk away.”

Y/N turned slightly, her profile illuminated by the soft sunlight filtering through the trees. Her face was a battlefield of emotions, anger, hurt, and something Ningning couldn’t quite name. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her lips trembling as she finally spoke.

“Why?” Y/N asked, her voice breaking. “So you can hurt me again? So you can make me believe in something that’s not real? To write another song about us?”

The words landed like blows, each one slicing through Ningning’s defenses. Her breath hitched as she absorbed the pain in Y/N’s voice, every syllable dripping with betrayal.

“Y/N,” Ningning said, her voice trembling, “it wasn’t like that.”

��Then what was it?” Y/N demanded, turning fully to face her now. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, like she was holding her very being together. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like I was just another story for you to tell. Another chapter for your music.”

The accusation stung, but Ningning shook her head, her eyes stinging with tears of her own. “No. You were never just a story to me.”

Y/N scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Then what was I, Ningning? Because I can’t keep doing this, can’t keep letting you mess with my head and my heart.”

Ningning’s chest tightened painfully. Her hands trembled at her sides as she took a hesitant step closer, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “You were everything to me.”

Y/N froze, her eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge the sincerity in Ningning’s words.

“You are everything to me,” Ningning continued, her voice soft but urgent. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unpolished, the vulnerability of it making Ningning feel both exposed and relieved. She took another step forward, her heart pounding as she continued.

“I didn’t know how to handle it,” Ningning admitted, her tears spilling freely now. “I was scared, terrified even, because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I thought pushing you away would make it easier, that I could run from it and make the feelings go away. But they didn’t.” She placed a trembling hand over her chest. “They’ve only grown. Every day, I miss you. Every moment, I regret what I did. You’re all I think about, and it kills me to know how much I hurt you.”

Y/N’s expression softened, the anger in her eyes flickering into something more conflicted. But the pain was still there, etched into every line of her face.

“You don’t get to do this,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. “You don’t get to break my heart and then come back saying you’re in love with me like that makes it all better.”

“I know,” Ningning said, her voice barely above a whisper. She stepped closer again, tentatively reaching up to cup Y/N’s cheek. “I know it doesn’t fix anything. But I need you to know it’s the truth.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as Ningning’s touch lingered, her emotions swirling visibly in her gaze.

“I love you,” Ningning whispered again, her voice steady now despite the tears streaming down her face. “And I’ll spend every day proving it to you if you let me.”

Y/N stared at her, her lips parting slightly as if to respond, but no words came. Her tears finally spilled over, and she closed her eyes as if trying to shield herself from the weight of the moment.

Acting on instinct, Ningning leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss wasn’t planned or practiced, it was raw, a collision of emotions she could no longer contain. Her lips pressed against Y/N’s with a desperate tenderness, pouring every ounce of love and regret she felt into the gesture.

For a moment, Y/N froze. Ningning could feel the tension in her, the hesitation. But slowly, Y/N softened, her hands hovering near Ningning’s shoulders before she pulled away.

Her eyes met Ningning’s, wide and filled with a kaleidoscope of emotions, confusion, hurt, longing, and a glimmer of something Ningning dared to hope was belief.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling as she stepped back, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

Ningning’s heart shattered at the words, but she nodded, her hands falling to her sides. “I know,” she said quietly, her voice thick with sorrow. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to earn it. I’m not giving up on you, Y/N. Not this time.”

Y/N’s gaze lingered on Ningning, her emotions a storm of confusion, hurt, and something Ningning hoped was longing. Her tears shimmered in the soft sunlight as she pulled away, taking a step back, her breath unsteady.

“If you really want me,” Y/N said, her voice trembling but firm, “Then prove it, Ning. I don’t know how I can trust you now.”

Ningning’s heart sank, the weight of the ultimatum pressing heavily on her chest. She searched Y/N’s face, desperate to say something, anything, that would make things right in that moment. But no words came.

Y/N took another step back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively. “I can’t do this unless I know you mean it. All of it.”

Her voice cracked on the last words, and she turned before Ningning could respond, walking quickly down the garden path.

Ningning stood frozen, the garden suddenly feeling colder, emptier. Y/N’s words echoed in her mind, the challenge cutting through the haze of her emotions.

Prove it.

As Y/N disappeared from view, Ningning’s hands fell to her sides, her fingers trembling. She sank onto the bench, her breaths shaky as she replayed the moment in her mind.

The weight of what Y/N had asked, what Y/N needed, felt monumental. But even as the fear and doubt clawed at her, something stronger rose to the surface.

Determination.

Ningning wiped at her face, her jaw tightening as the tears continued to fall. She had spent weeks running from her feelings, from the truth of what Y/N meant to her. But if there was even the slightest chance of fixing what they had, she wasn’t going to let fear stop her again.

For the first time in weeks, Ningning felt a spark of clarity.

She would prove it.

The crisp morning air nipped at Ningning’s cheeks as she stood outside the campus cafeteria, the faint hum of chatter and the clinking of cups filtering through the glass doors. She barely noticed any of it, her focus entirely on the cup in her hands and the note tucked beneath its lid.

She stood just outside the door, clutching a warm coffee cup in her hands. The steam curled into the air between her trembling fingers, carrying the rich scent of caramel and espresso, Y/N’s favorite.

Her eyes flicked down to the note she had carefully written that morning. “I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but I hope this makes your day a little brighter.” The words felt small, almost insignificant compared to the depth of her regret, but they were all she could manage.

Ningning inhaled deeply, trying to steady the fluttering in her chest. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around, to let the gesture go undone, but she forced herself to move forward.

The cashier greeted her with a friendly smile, but Ningning barely registered it. Her voice was soft, almost timid, as she slid the cup across the counter. “Can you give this to Y/N when she comes in?” she asked, her words almost drowned out by the hum of the cafeteria.

The cashier glanced at the name scrawled on the side of the cup and then nodded. “Sure thing.”

“Thanks,” Ningning mumbled, her cheeks flushing as she hurried toward the door. She pushed it open, the chime ringing behind her as she stepped out into the brisk morning air.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she walked away, the warmth of the coffee still lingering on her fingertips. She couldn’t bear to stay and risk seeing Y/N’s reaction. What if she smiles? What if she throws it away? The uncertainty gnawed at her, but she held on to a sliver of hope.

An hour later, Ningning found herself wandering past the cafeteria again. She wasn’t even sure why she was there, her feet had carried her almost unconsciously. A part of her hoped to catch a glimpse of Y/N with the cup in hand, maybe reading the note and smiling, even if just for a moment.

But as she approached the entrance, her gaze landed on the trash bin by the door.

Her steps faltered, her heart sinking as her eyes focused on a familiar sight.

The coffee cup sat atop the pile of discarded receipts and crumpled napkins, the lid still firmly in place. Through the translucent plastic, she could see the faint outline of her note, still tucked neatly beneath the lid.

Discarded. Unread.

Her throat tightened as disappointment settled heavily in her chest, an ache she couldn’t push away. She stood frozen for a moment, staring at the cup as if willing it to disappear. Around her, students passed by, laughing and chatting, completely oblivious to the silent storm raging inside her.

She didn’t even open it, Ningning thought, the realization cutting deeper than she expected. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and for a brief second, she considered retrieving the cup, if only to save herself the humiliation of anyone else noticing it. But she stopped herself, clenching her hands into fists.

She turned and walked away, her head bowed and her chest heavy. The hope she had clung to that morning felt like ash now, crumbling under the weight of rejection.

I have to try harder, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. Determined not to give up, Ningning decided to try again.

Ningning sat cross legged on her bed, the book resting in her lap as she ran her fingers over its worn cover. It was an old edition of Y/N’s favorite novel, the faint scent of aged paper wafting up with each page she turned. She remembered the day Y/N had mentioned it, her eyes lighting up as she spoke about how much it had meant to her.

“I lost my copy ages ago,” Y/N had said wistfully during one of their late-night talks. “I’ve been trying to find it, but it’s out of print.”

That memory had stayed with Ningning, tucked away in a quiet corner of her mind. When she stumbled across the book in a dusty corner of a secondhand shop a few days ago, she had known immediately what she had to do.

Now, sitting in the library, she felt a nervous energy thrumming through her as she carefully wrote a note on a small piece of paper “Y/N, I saw this and thought of you.”

Her handwriting was slightly shaky, and she had to rewrite it twice before she was satisfied. She stuck the note to the front of the book and placed it on Y/N’s usual study table, the one tucked away near the back corner of the library.

As she set the book down, her heart raced. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then stepped away quickly, retreating to a nearby row of shelves where she pretended to browse.

The minutes dragged on, each one stretching unbearably as she waited for Y/N to arrive. She glanced at the table every few seconds, her stomach twisting with a mixture of hope and dread. What if Y/N ignored it? What if she didn’t even notice?

Finally, Y/N came into Ningning’s view.

Ningning froze, her hand still resting on the spine of a random book she had no intention of reading. Her breath caught as she watched Y/N approach the table, her movements deliberate as she placed her bag on the chair.

Y/N’s gaze landed on the book. For a moment, she didn’t move, her head tilting slightly as if trying to process what she was seeing. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against the note.

Ningning’s heart pounded in her chest, a flicker of hope blooming inside her. She’s reading it, she thought, barely able to breathe.

Y/N picked up the book, turning it over in her hands. Her expression was unreadable, her features carefully guarded as she ran her fingers over the worn edges of the cover. For a brief moment, Ningning thought she saw something soften in Y/N’s gaze, a glimmer of the warmth she had been chasing.

But then Y/N’s shoulders stiffened. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she set the book back down, her movements deliberate and firm.

Ningning’s stomach dropped.

Y/N glanced around the library briefly, her gaze sweeping past the shelves where Ningning stood frozen. Then, without another word, she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked away, leaving the book on the table.

Ningning’s fingers curled around the spine of the book she was pretending to browse, gripping it tightly as the ache in her chest deepened. She wanted to run after Y/N, to explain, to beg her to take the book, but her feet remained rooted to the spot.

As Y/N disappeared through the library’s glass doors, Ningning stepped back toward the table, staring down at the book she had carefully chosen. The note was still stuck to the cover, its words now feeling hollow and futile.

She swallowed hard, picking up the book and cradling it in her arms as she left the library, her shoulders slumping under the weight of rejection.

I need to try harder, she thought, her determination flickering faintly through the hurt. But the doubts in her mind whispered louder. What if she never forgives me?

Later that afternoon, Ningning sat slumped in an armchair in the student lounge, her knees drawn up slightly as she fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. Across from her, Chaewon and Yunjin lounged on a sofa, their books and notes spread haphazardly on the table between them.

The usual chatter and laughter of the lounge seemed distant, muffled by the weight in Ningning’s chest. She twisted the fabric of her sweater tighter, the words forming on her lips before she could stop herself.

“Can you just check in on her?” she blurted, her voice tinged with desperation.

Yunjin looked up from her notebook, raising an eyebrow. “You mean spy on her for you?”

“No!” Ningning said quickly, her cheeks flushing as her hands stilled. “I just... I’m worried about her.”

Chaewon glanced at Yunjin, then leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Her expression was soft but cautious. “Ning, we’re already looking out for her,” she said gently. “But you know she doesn’t want to talk about you right now.”

Ningning’s shoulders slumped, and she nodded slowly, the ache in her chest growing heavier. “I just don’t know what else to do,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Yunjin let out a quiet sigh, leaning back and crossing her arms. “What exactly are you expecting us to say to her?” she asked, her tone not unkind but pointed. “Because if it’s anything close to, ‘Ningning’s worried about you,’ I can promise you that’s not going to go over well.”

Ningning winced, her fingers resuming their nervous twisting. “I don’t expect you to say that. I just... I don’t want her to think she’s alone,” she said, her words faltering as her throat tightened.

Chaewon reached out, placing a hand gently on Ningning’s knee. “She’s not alone,” she said softly. “She has us, and we’re making sure she’s okay. But Ning...” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “She’s hurting. And as much as you want to fix that, she’s not ready to hear it from you yet.”

Ningning nodded again, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check. “I know,” she said quietly, her voice thick. “I just... I hate feeling like this. Like I’m watching her slip further away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

Yunjin’s expression softened, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Look,” she said, her voice more gentle now. “You messed up, Ning. We all know it, and so do you. But trying to rush her into forgiving you isn’t going to help. Give her time. And maybe give yourself some time too, to figure out what you’re really trying to say to her.”

Ningning blinked rapidly, her vision blurring as tears threatened to spill. She looked down at her lap, her hands trembling slightly. “What if it’s too late by then?” she whispered.

Chaewon squeezed her knee reassuringly. “If she means this much to you, then you keep trying,” she said firmly. “But you have to be patient. It’s not about making grand gestures or proving a point. It’s about letting her see that you’re not going anywhere.”

Yunjin nodded, her tone still blunt but laced with understanding. “And maybe stop asking us to be your go-betweens,” she said. “If you really care about her, show her in a way that’s about her, not about you.”

Ningning let out a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Their words weren’t the reassurance she had hoped for, but they were the truth she needed to hear.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, her voice still unsteady.

Chaewon smiled gently. “You’ve got this, Ning. Just... give it time.”

The final blow came outside the library one crisp afternoon. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the campus walkways as students moved between classes. Ningning stood frozen near the library steps, clutching the strap of her bag as she spotted Y/N walking briskly toward the entrance. Her heart pounded in her chest, her pulse echoing in her ears.

The weight of everything unsaid pressed down on her, and before she could overthink it, she stepped into Y/N’s path.

“Y/N, wait,” she called, her voice wavering with unsteadiness.

Y/N stopped abruptly, her bag slipping slightly off her shoulder as she turned to face Ningning. Her eyes narrowed, sharp and guarded, and she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “What do you want, Ning?” she asked, her tone clipped and impatient.

Ningning faltered under Y/N’s gaze, the words she had practiced so many times suddenly scattering like leaves in the wind. Her hands trembled slightly, and she forced herself to take a shaky breath. “I just...” she began, fumbling for the right words. “I wanted to check in on you.”

Y/N let out a sharp, humorless laugh, her frustration boiling over. “Check on me?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “Is that what all of this has been about? The coffee, the book, sending my friends to talk to me, what are you trying to do, Ning?”

“I’m trying to show you I care,” Ningning said quietly, her chest tightening painfully as she met Y/N’s eyes.

Y/N’s expression hardened instantly, her features twisting with hurt and anger. Her voice rose, sharp and trembling. “You didn’t care when it mattered, Ning! Why should I believe you now?”

The words struck Ningning like a physical blow. She flinched, her breath hitching as tears stung the corners of her eyes. “Because I made a mistake,” she said, her voice breaking as the emotions she had been holding back spilled out. “I’m trying to make it right.”

Y/N shook her head, taking a step back as though to put more distance between them. Her shoulders were tense, her jaw tight. “A few nice gestures aren’t going to fix this,” she snapped, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “You can’t undo what you did with a cup of coffee and a book.”

Ningning opened her mouth to respond, to explain, but the lump in her throat choked her words.

Y/N’s arms tightened around herself, her body language closed off and defensive. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the pain she had been carrying all too evident now. “Stop trying, Ning,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just... leave me alone.”

Without waiting for a reply, Y/N turned abruptly, her steps quick and deliberate as she walked away.

Ningning stood rooted to the spot, her chest heavy with the weight of her failure. The library doors opened and closed behind Y/N, but the world around her seemed to blur and fade into silence.

She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms as the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. The tightness in her chest felt unbearable, and she struggled to steady her breathing as her emotions swirled into a storm of regret and despair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the empty air, the words too late and too small to reach the person who mattered most.

That night, Ningning sat cross legged on her bed, the soft glow of her desk lamp casting a faint golden light across the room. The hum of the dorm’s heater and the distant murmur of voices from the hallway only amplified the silence inside her.

In her lap rested a notebook, its pristine pages staring back at her like an unyielding judge. The emptiness was unbearable, a mirror of the void she felt inside. She picked up a pen, her fingers trembling slightly as she twirled it absently, her mind racing with scattered thoughts.

Why can’t I just fix this?

Her breath hitched as she stared at the blank page, willing the words to come. Writing had always been her escape, her way of processing the world and the emotions she could never quite express aloud. But tonight, the usual flow of inspiration refused to surface. Everything she tried to conjure felt shallow, unworthy of the depth of what she was feeling.

Ningning let the pen drop onto the page with a soft thud. She leaned back against the headboard, her arms wrapping around her knees as she exhaled shakily. Her gestures, no matter how heartfelt, had failed. The coffee, the book, even asking Y/N’s friends to check on her... all of it had fallen flat.

Because Y/N was right, Ningning thought, her chest tightening with the weight of realization. I didn’t care the way she needed me to when it mattered most.

Her hands trembled as she brushed her hair out of her face, the words from Y/N’s sharp tone earlier still echoing in her mind.

“You didn’t care when it mattered.”

The truth of that accusation cut deeper than anything else. Ningning hadn’t just let Y/N down, she had made her feel invisible, unworthy of the love and attention she now desperately wanted to give.

She picked up the pen again, her grip firmer this time, and pressed it to the page. Her hand hovered, her mind grasping for lyrics or even a simple line to capture what she felt. But no words came. Not yet.

I don’t know how to say it, she thought bitterly. I don’t know how to make her believe me.

Setting the pen down once more, Ningning let her head fall into her hands, her breathing unsteady. Her gestures, no matter how well-intentioned, had been surface-level. They weren’t what Y/N needed.

What Y/N needed was more than coffee, books, or vague apologies. She needed to feel seen. To feel heard.

Ningning sat back up, her jaw tightening as her fingers gripped the edge of the notebook. She had been running from the depth of her feelings, too scared to face the truth of how much Y/N meant to her. But the fear of losing Y/N for good was greater than anything else.

She doesn’t need grand gestures, Ningning realized, the thought striking her like lightning. She needs to know that I understand her. That I see her for who she is. That I love her.

Her breath hitched at the last thought, and she closed her eyes, letting it settle over her. The realization was terrifying but grounding, like a tether pulling her back to what mattered most.

With a shaky hand, she closed the notebook and set it aside, staring at the ceiling as the faint hum of the dorm seemed to grow quieter. Determination flickered faintly in her chest, fragile but present.

I’ll find a way, she thought. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll make her believe me. I’ll show her that she matters, that she’s always mattered.

For the first time that night, the ache in her chest eased just slightly. She didn’t have the answers yet, but she had a direction. And for Ningning, that was enough to hold on to.

The dorm room was a cozy chaos of mismatched furniture and half-empty takeout containers. The faint glow of string lights cast a warm hue across the walls, dotted with posters and polaroids. Aeri sat cross-legged on the floor, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone, while Minjeong lounged on the bed, tossing popcorn into her mouth and missing more than she caught.

Jimin was sprawled across the couch, flipping lazily through a magazine, but her eyes flicked up as Ningning pushed open the door and stepped inside.

“You look like you’ve been through it,” Jimin remarked, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

Ningning let out a heavy sigh, dropping onto the rug in the center of the room. She pulled her knees to her chest, her gaze fixed on the floor. “That’s because I have.”

Minjeong straightened, tossing the popcorn bowl aside. “What happened?”

“Everything I try just makes her angrier,” Ningning admitted, her voice tight with frustration. “The coffee, the book, even talking to her friends, it all blew up in my face. She doesn’t believe me, and maybe... maybe she’s right not to.”

Aeri put her phone down, her expression turning serious. “She’s hurt, Ning. You can’t expect her to forgive you overnight.”

“I know that,” Ningning said, her voice breaking slightly. “But I don’t know what else to do. Every time I try, it feels like I’m just making things worse.”

Minjeong moved to sit next to Ningning, her hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “But you can’t give up,” she said gently. “If you love her, you have to keep trying.”

Jimin sat up, the shift in her posture drawing everyone’s attention. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, the gears in her mind visibly turning as she leaned forward. “Then you need to stop playing small,” she said, her tone sharp with conviction.

Ningning looked up, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The coffee, the book,” Jimin continued, waving her hand dismissively. “They’re nice gestures, sure, but they’re not enough. They’re safe. Too safe. You’re skating around the edges when what you need to do is jump in.”

“Jump in?” Ningning echoed, skepticism etched into her voice. Her fingers fidgeted with a loose thread on her sleeve, pulling it absently as her mind raced.

Jimin nodded firmly. “You need something big. Something that shows her, and everyone else, how serious you are. Something she can’t ignore.”

Ningning frowned, her fingers still tugging at the thread. “Like what?” she asked hesitantly, her tone tinged with doubt. “I’ve already tried the small stuff, and I’m not exactly good at grand gestures.”

Across the room, Aeri smirked, crossing her arms and tilting her head as she regarded Ningning with a knowing look. “Then it’s time to get out of your comfort zone,” she said. “You’re a performer, Ning. Use that.”

“A performance?” Ningning’s stomach tightened at the suggestion, her nerves prickling at the thought of standing in front of people and laying herself bare.

“Exactly!” Minjeong clapped her hands together, her face lighting up with excitement. “But not just any performance. You need to do something for her, something personal. Something that tells her exactly how you feel.”

The suggestion hung in the air, heavy with possibility. Ningning’s heart pounded as the words settled over her, the weight of them both terrifying and exhilarating.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “You think she’d even come to something like that?”

Jimin’s grin widened, a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. “Leave that part to us,” she said, her tone brimming with confidence. “We’ll make sure she’s there.”

Ningning hesitated, her chest tightening as she tried to imagine what such a moment would even look like. The idea of performing something so deeply personal, something meant for Y/N, felt almost unbearable in its vulnerability.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asked, her voice small.

Aeri leaned forward, her expression softening slightly. “Then at least you’ll know you gave it everything,” she said. “No regrets, Ning. Isn’t that what you want?”

Ningning swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to respond. But deep down, she knew Aeri was right. If she didn’t take this chance, she would always wonder what could have been.

“Think about it this way,” Minjeong added, her tone gentle but encouraging. “If you love her as much as you say you do, then this is your chance to show her. Not just tell her, show her.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the gravity of their words sinking in. Ningning glanced down at her lap, her fingers brushing against the worn cover of her notebook. She flipped it open, her pen hovering above the first blank page.

“There’s this song I’ve been thinking about,” she said slowly, her voice tentative. “It... it says everything I’ve been too scared to say.”

“That’s perfect,” Minjeong said, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “But you can’t just stop at the song. You need to say something, something that’s completely yours.”

Jimin nodded in agreement. “Lay it all out there, Ning. No holding back. This is your shot to make her understand exactly how you feel.”

Ningning’s chest tightened again, but this time, the fear was accompanied by a flicker of determination. She looked around the room at her friends, their faces lit with encouragement and belief in her.

For the first time in weeks, she felt a spark of hope.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside her. She closed the notebook and looked at her friends with resolve. “Let’s do it.”

The room erupted into cheers, and Ningning allowed herself a small smile. She didn’t know if it would be enough, but for the first time, she felt ready to try.

The following week passed in a whirlwind of planning and preparation. Ningning threw herself into the work with single-minded focus, her determination burning brighter than the fear that lingered at the edges of her thoughts. There was no time for second-guessing, no room for hesitation, only the relentless drive to make this right.

Her friends were her lifeline, rallying around her with unwavering support. Aeri, ever dependable, had secured the campus amphitheater as the venue. It was one of the most picturesque spots on campus, nestled among towering trees and surrounded by twinkling string lights that created a magical glow at night. Minjeong took charge of the setup, organizing lights, sound, and seating with a precision that belied her usual carefree demeanor. And Jimin, the master schemer, was tasked with the most important job of all: ensuring Y/N would be there.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin had said with a smirk one night as they huddled over a makeshift plan in the dorm common room. “I’ll make sure she’s front and center. She won’t have a clue what’s coming.”

Ningning tried to smile at Jimin’s confidence, but the weight of what she was doing loomed large in her chest. For her, every detail felt monumental, each decision a step closer to exposing her rawest emotions to the world, and to Y/N.

Her nights were consumed by preparation. She spent hours hunched over her notebook, writing and rewriting the speech she planned to give. The words came haltingly at first, her pen hovering over the page as she struggled to articulate the depth of her regret and the truth of her feelings.

In the quiet of her dorm room, she practiced the song over and over, her voice breaking at times as the lyrics forced her to confront everything she had been too scared to say.

The song had always resonated with her, but now it felt like an extension of her soul. Each note carried the weight of her love, her sorrow, and her longing. Every word was a confession, a promise, and a plea rolled into one.

“I would never fall in love again until I found her...”

As she sang, the memory of Y/N’s laugh would echo in her mind, followed by the flash of pain in her eyes the last time they spoke. It fueled Ningning’s determination, even as her hands trembled with the enormity of what she was preparing to do.

Late one evening, Aeri walked into Ningning’s room to check on her and found her sitting cross-legged on the bed, her guitar resting on her lap. The space was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of her desk lamp illuminating the open notebook beside her.

“How’s it going?” Aeri asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Ningning looked up, her eyes tired but resolute. “It’s... hard,” she admitted, her fingers brushing against the strings absently. “But it has to be perfect. I can’t mess this up.”

Aeri stepped inside, her expression softening. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” she said gently. “It just has to be real. That’s what she needs from you.”

Ningning swallowed hard, nodding as she glanced back at the notebook. “I just... I keep thinking about all the ways this could go wrong. What if she doesn’t believe me? What if it’s too late?”

“Then at least you’ll know you tried,” Aeri said simply, her hand resting lightly on Ningning’s shoulder. “You’re putting yourself out there, Ning. That’s more than a lot of people ever do.”

Her words settled over Ningning like a calming balm, easing some of the tension in her chest.

The nights blurred into days, and before she knew it, the week was over, and everything was ready. The amphitheater had been transformed into a space that felt both intimate and magical. Strings of lights cast a warm glow over the stage, and rows of chairs were set up for the small audience that would gather to witness Ningning’s moment of truth.

When the morning of the performance arrived, the amphitheater buzzed with quiet anticipation. Friends and classmates began to gather, drawn in by the whispers of something special about to happen. Minjeong flitted between the crowd and the stage, making last-minute adjustments to the sound system, while Jimin kept a watchful eye on her phone, ensuring everything was on schedule.

At the center of it all, Ningning stood backstage, gripping her guitar and taking deep, steadying breaths.

“Are you ready?” Minjeong asked, popping her head backstage with an encouraging grin.

Ningning nodded, her fingers tightening around the neck of her guitar. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Jimin appeared a moment later, giving Ningning a thumbs up. “She’s here,” she said simply.

Ningning’s heart skipped a beat. She swallowed hard, adjusting the strap of her guitar as she stepped toward the stage.

The crowd quieted as Ningning emerged from the shadows, stepping into the soft glow of the amphitheater lights. The warm, golden hue bathed the stage, casting her in a halo-like glow that made the vulnerability etched into her features all the more striking.

Her gaze swept over the audience, taking in the faces turned toward her with quiet anticipation. But it wasn’t the crowd that mattered. It was her.

Near the back, Y/N sat with her arms crossed loosely, flanked by Chaewon and Yunjin. The two friends radiated a mix of protectiveness and encouragement, their gazes flitting between Ningning and Y/N as if silently willing the night to go well.

Y/N’s expression was unreadable, her features set in a careful mask. But when Ningning’s eyes locked with hers, the air seemed to shift. For a moment, everything else, the murmurs of the crowd, the warmth of the lights, the storm in her own chest, faded into the background.

Her heart skipped a beat, the enormity of the moment threatening to overwhelm her.

Taking a deep breath, Ningning stepped up to the mic, clutching her guitar like a lifeline. Her voice, steady despite the tumult inside her, filled the stillness.

“Hi, everyone,” she began, her gaze sweeping the crowd once more before flicking back to Y/N. “Thanks for being here tonight.”

Her fingers adjusted the mic slightly, and she hesitated, swallowing hard as her emotions bubbled close to the surface. She forced herself to meet Y/N’s gaze again, pouring everything she felt into her next words.

“This...” she paused, her voice trembling but resolute. “This is for someone really important to me.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but Ningning barely noticed. She adjusted her guitar strap and strummed the opening chords of Until I Found You.

The familiar melody filled the amphitheater, soft and sweet like a confession whispered in the dark. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, grounding herself in the music, before her voice broke through the stillness.

“Georgia, wrap me up in all your I want ya...”

Her voice carried the weight of every unsaid word, each note trembling with raw emotion. She opened her eyes, and her gaze immediately found Y/N again.

“in my arms, Oh, let me hold ya I’ll never let you go again, like I did Oh, I used to say”

Ningning’s voice faltered slightly, the memory of pushing Y/N away flashing through her mind. She steadied herself, gripping the guitar tighter as her resolve deepened.

“I would never fall in love again until I found her I said, ‘I would never fall unless it’s you I fall into”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she sang, each word a plea, a promise, a truth she had waited too long to express. Her voice rose with intensity, trembling as she poured her heart into the next line.

“I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her I found you”

Her hands moved fluidly over the strings, but her focus never wavered. Every lyric, every chord was for Y/N. It wasn’t just a performance, it was a confession laid bare for everyone to see.

The crowd faded entirely into the background. The world narrowed to just the two of them, her voice carrying across the space like a bridge connecting their fractured hearts.

“Heaven When I held you again How could We ever just be friends?”

The vulnerability in her voice cracked slightly, but it only added to the depth of the moment. She took a small step closer to the edge of the stage, her eyes locking on Y/N with unyielding determination.

“I would Rather die than let you go Juliet to your Romeo”

Her voice softened, trembling on the edge of a whisper, as though the words were meant only for Y/N.

“How I heard you say”

The emotion in her voice swelled again, rising to the chorus with a quiet strength that carried her love across the amphitheater.

“I would never fall in love again until I found her I said, I would never fall unless it’s you I fall into”

As the final notes of the song resonated into the night, Ningning’s hands stilled on the strings. Her chest heaved slightly, her breaths uneven as she absorbed the weight of what she had just done.

The amphitheater erupted into applause, a wave of sound that seemed distant and unimportant compared to the silence that lingered between her and Y/N.

Ningning stepped back to the mic, her heart racing but her voice steady.

“But there’s more I need to say,” she began, her tone trembling with sincerity. “Y/N, this isn’t just a song for me. It’s my truth. I was scared, scared of how much I felt for you, scared of what it meant. I thought pushing you away would protect you, protect me, but all it did was hurt. And I will never forgive myself for that.”

Her voice caught for a moment, but she pushed through, her gaze locked on Y/N.

“I’m here now,” she continued, her words stronger, more resolute. “And I’m not running anymore. I’m not giving up on you, on us. I’ll spend every day proving to you that I’m worth the chance, if you’ll let me.”

Ningning’s chest tightened as she searched Y/N’s expression for a sign, any sign that she might be reaching her. The crowd was silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a fragile thread between them.

The murmurs of the crowd fading into the background as Y/N remained seated, her eyes locked on Ningning. The amphitheater’s lights seemed softer now, casting a warm glow that wrapped around the two of them like a fragile thread.

Y/N’s chest felt impossibly tight, her emotions a whirlwind of disbelief, longing, and fear. The raw vulnerability in Ningning’s performance, the unflinching honesty in her words, it was more than Y/N had expected, more than she had allowed herself to hope for.

Chaewon and Yunjin exchanged a glance, their expressions soft with encouragement. Gently, Yunjin nudged Y/N’s arm.

“Go,” she whispered.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat as she struggled to make sense of the storm in her heart. Finally, she stood, her steps tentative as she moved toward the stage.

Ningning froze as Y/N approached, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure the whole crowd could hear it. She stepped down from the stage, meeting Y/N halfway, her guitar forgotten as it rested against the mic stand.

The world seemed to blur, the edges of the amphitheater fading as the two of them stood face to face.

Y/N’s voice was soft, trembling with emotion as she finally spoke. “You meant all of that?”

The question hung in the air between them, fragile and heavy.

Ningning nodded, her gaze unwavering despite the tears glistening in her eyes. “Every word,” she said, her voice firm but laced with vulnerability. “I’ve never been more honest about anything in my life.”

Her words landed like a soft ache in Y/N’s chest, stirring emotions she had tried so hard to bury. She crossed her arms tightly, wrapping them around herself as if to shield against the weight of the moment. “I don’t know how to trust this, Ning,” she admitted, her voice cracking under the strain of her conflicted feelings. “You hurt me. You broke my heart. How do I know this isn’t just another gesture you’ll take back when it gets hard?”

The rawness of her words cut deep, and Ningning flinched slightly, the guilt pressing against her like a tidal wave. She took a deep breath, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides before she forced herself to still them.

“You don’t,” Ningning said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “Not yet. But I’m not asking you to believe me right now. I’m asking for the chance to show it to you, every day, for as long as it takes.”

Her words hung in the air, quiet but resolute, and Y/N’s throat tightened. For weeks, she had carried the weight of heartbreak, shielding herself from the vulnerability that Ningning now offered so freely. Yet in Ningning’s eyes, she saw something different, something she hadn’t allowed herself to see before.

It wasn’t just regret. It was a determination that cut through the fear, unwavering and raw.

“I was so scared that I ended up hurting both of us,” Ningning continued, her voice breaking, the weight of her confession almost too much to bear. “But I’m not scared anymore, Y/N. I just need you to give me the chance to show you how much you mean to me.”

Y/N searched Ningning’s face, her emotions a whirlwind of longing, hurt, and guarded hope. Her defenses wavered, the vulnerability in Ningning’s words pressing against the walls she had built around her heart. Slowly, she let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know if I can forget everything that happened,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to the ground.

“You don’t have to,” Ningning replied quickly, the urgency in her voice pulling Y/N’s eyes back to her. “I don’t want you to forget. I just want to be the person who makes it better, who proves to you that I’m worth trusting again.”

The sincerity in Ningning’s words cracked something open in Y/N, a small fracture in the armor she had so carefully constructed. A long silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of shared pain and unspoken hopes.

Then, slowly, Y/N reached out, her hand brushing lightly against Ningning’s. Her fingers were cold, tentative, as if unsure whether to hold on or pull away.

“I’m scared,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with the confession she had been too afraid to speak aloud.

Ningning’s breath caught, and her fingers curled gently around Y/N’s, anchoring her in the moment. “I know,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

Her grip was warm and steady, a quiet promise in the way her thumb brushed lightly over Y/N’s knuckles. The tension between them softened, the air around them growing quieter, more intimate.

Y/N studied Ningning’s face, searching for any cracks in her resolve, but all she found was a quiet, unshakable truth.

“I want to believe you,” Y/N said finally, her voice breaking on the last word.

“Then let me help you,” Ningning whispered. “One day at a time. As long as it takes.”

Y/N let out a soft, shuddering breath, the tears she had been holding back finally slipping free. But this time, the pain wasn’t as sharp. It was tempered by something softer, something that felt like hope.

Their fingers intertwined fully now, neither of them willing to let go. The crowd had dispersed by the time Ningning and Y/N emerged from the amphitheater, their steps slow as they walked side by side along the moonlit path. The crisp night air carried the faint scent of blooming flowers, mingling with the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. The campus, usually alive with chatter and footsteps, felt almost sacred in its quiet stillness.

Ningning’s hand remained in Y/N’s, their fingers loosely intertwined. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but in its simplicity, it felt monumental, a quiet promise of what was to come.

For a while, they walked in silence, their pace unhurried as if savoring the fragile peace between them. Y/N finally broke the quiet, her voice soft and contemplative.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to hear your voice again without feeling hurt,” she admitted, her gaze fixed on the path ahead.

Ningning’s chest tightened, the weight of her past mistakes still heavy despite the glimmer of hope this moment held. “I know,” she said quietly. “I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”

Y/N glanced at her, her lips pressing into a thin line before softening. “But tonight... it felt different,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Ningning’s heart skipped a beat, her grip on Y/N’s hand tightening. “Different how?”

“Like you were really there,” Y/N said, meeting Ningning’s gaze fully now. “Not hiding. Not running. Just... you.”

Ningning swallowed hard, emotion welling up in her throat. She nodded, her voice firm but tinged with vulnerability. “I’m not running anymore,” she said. “I’m here. And I’m going to keep showing you that. Every day.”

Y/N’s faint smile grew slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing as her steps became lighter. For the first time in weeks, the ache in her chest began to lift, replaced by something softer, something lighter. Hope.

The path stretched before them, bathed in the soft glow of campus lights. The world seemed to hold its breath, leaving them in their own quiet bubble as they walked. Slowly, the lingering tension between them gave way to something unspoken but deeply understood: this was the beginning of something new.

Y/N paused, her steps halting as she turned to face Ningning fully. The glow of the nearby lamppost framed her features, illuminating the warmth that had started to creep back into her expression.

“Ning,” she said softly, her voice carrying a vulnerability that made Ningning’s heart ache.

Ningning stopped as well, her hand still holding Y/N’s. “Yeah?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to their hands, their fingers still intertwined, before lifting to meet Ningning’s eyes. She took a small step closer, the space between them narrowing until she could feel the faint warmth of Ningning’s breath.

“For what it’s worth,” Y/N murmured, her voice trembling but steady, “I believed you. Tonight, I believe you.”

Ningning’s breath caught, her chest tightening as the words sank in. “Y/N...” she started, her voice breaking slightly.

Y/N shook her head, her lips curving into a soft, tentative smile. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered. “Just...”

Before Ningning could respond, Y/N leaned in, her free hand brushing lightly against Ningning’s cheek. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, the world falling away as Y/N closed the distance between them.

Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, slow, and full of unspoken promises. It wasn’t desperate or hurried, it was deliberate, a quiet declaration of forgiveness and the tentative start of something new.

Ningning’s free hand found Y/N’s waist, holding her gently as she poured everything she felt into the kiss. The fear, the regret, the love, it all flowed between them, wordless but unmistakable.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, a small laugh escaping her lips, light and free. “You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

Ningning chuckled softly, her voice laced with emotion. “Not when it comes to you.”

Hand in hand, they continued walking down the moonlit path, the tension between them replaced by a quiet sense of hope and love.

For the first time in a long time, they both believed it could be enough.

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #ning yizhuo x reader #ningning x reader #ningning x fem reader

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msriri030 · 1 month ago

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Husband! Bob x Spouse Reader

cw: light angst

You glared at your ex-husband, Bob Velseb, standing at your doorway with a bag of fresh meat that all but screamed his latest gruesome exploits. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots—people had been going missing again.

Bob’s lips curled into a disarming smile, his southern drawl honeyed and deliberate. “I’m home, darlin’. Why don’t I whip up something’ nice' for you and the girls? Just like old times.”

Your hands clenched into fists as a wave of anger surged through you. Did he really think you’d let him stroll back into your life after disappearing when your now three-year-old daughter was only two months old? Fat chance.

He had always been a storm of chaos, leaving destruction in his wake, but this time it wasn’t just about you. Your two daughters, peacefully asleep upstairs, were your everything. You weren’t going to let Bob ruin the stability and safety you’d fought so hard to build.

“No,” you growled, stepping into the doorway to block his path. “You can fuck off and leave the girls out of this.”

Bob’s smile faltered slightly as you jabbed a finger toward the bag in his hand. “And take that mess with you. The girls believe their father is six feet under, and I intend to keep it that way.”

His eyes darkened for a moment, the smile on his face twisting into something colder, more dangerous. But you held your ground, your protective instincts blazing brighter than any fear he could try to stir in you.

“Six feet under, huh?” he drawled, his southern accent dripping with a charm that felt as fake as the smile plastered on his face. “Well, darlin’, ain’t that somethin��? Here I am, back from the grave, just to see my family. Reckon that makes me a ghost, doesn't it?”

You stepped closer, blocking the doorway entirely, your body a shield between him and the peaceful home behind you. Your heart raced, but you didn’t dare let it show. Bob thrived on fear, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“Whatever sick game you’re playing, it ends here,” you spat, your voice low but resolute. “You don’t get to just show up after all these years and act like nothing happened. The girls don’t need you, Bob. We don’t need you.”

Bob chuckled darkly, the deep rumble of his laugh sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh, darlin’, you wound me,” he drawled, his tone laced with mock sincerity. “I’ve been thinkin’ about y’all this whole time, wonderin’ how my little girls are growin’ up. Don’t you think they deserve to know their daddy?”

“Wound you? You—" Your voice faltered as your hands balled into fists at your sides. You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to steady your trembling voice. “Their daddy is the man who’s been there for them—the one who raised them. Not the one who ran off and left us to pick up the pieces without warning! So no, Bob. They don’t need to know you. Not now. Not ever… I’m sorry.”

Bob’s smirk faded slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. But before he could respond, you continued, your voice breaking with raw emotion.

“Did you even think about how your disappearing act would affect them?” Your eyes filled with tears, and you blinked quickly, refusing to let them fall. “They asked for you day and night, Bob. Day and night. And I—"

You choked on the words, your pain spilling out in each syllable as you met his gaze. Bob’s frown deepened, his confident demeanor faltering as guilt flickered in his eyes.

For a moment, just a moment, the mask slipped, and he looked almost human like when you first met. Then, as if compelled by something primal, Bob suddenly moved toward you, his steps quick and purposeful. The air between you grew tense, and your breath hitched as his intentions became unclear.

You closed your eyes, bracing for the worst, your heart pounding as fear gripped you. But instead of pain, you felt the unexpected warmth of his arms wrapping around you. It wasn’t rough or forceful—it was tender, almost comforting.

Your breath caught as you opened your eyes, looking up at him through a blur of tears. His expression was unreadable, a strange mixture of guilt and longing etched across his face.

“Bob…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He leaned down slowly, pressing a soft, almost reverent kiss to your forehead. The gesture left you stunned, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. It wasn’t what you expected, not from the man who had brought so much chaos and pain into your life.

For a brief moment, you saw the man you had once loved, hidden beneath the years of betrayal and destruction. Yet, the warmth of his embrace couldn’t erase the past or the weight of his actions.

You pulled back slightly, your voice breaking as you whispered, “Bob… Please, just leave. For their sake.”

Your plea wavered with the emotions threatening to overcome you. The love you thought had long since died began to flicker, betraying your resolve. It was a dangerous ember, one that could easily ignite the uncertainty buried deep within you. Bob noticed the shift, his eyes softening as he gently cupped your cheek with his hand.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice low and soothing, “I’ll leave if that’s what you want. But just… let me have one cup of your famous hot chocolate. Like old times, yeah? You remember?”

You felt your resolve cracking further as you unconsciously leaned into his touch, nuzzling his hand. His words carried a strange sense of nostalgia that tugged at your heart.

With a sad smile, you nodded, stepping aside to let him in. “Fine… but please, don’t make too much noise. I don’t want the girls to wake up.”

Bob stepped inside, his smile broadening as his eyes roamed the familiar surroundings. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, memories, and the weight of decisions both past and present. You led him into the kitchen, your emotions a storm of conflicted feelings, wondering if letting him in was a mistake—or if the fleeting moment of warmth was worth the risk.

When you turned to try to backtrack, to take control of the situation, the sight of Bob rooted you in place. The man who had ended lives without hesitation now stood frozen before your wall, covered with photographs of the girls. Everyday moments captured with care—birthdays, school plays, lazy afternoons at the park. His gaze, however, was fixed on one particular picture: a family drawing, childishly scrawled in crayon.

It was simple yet heartbreaking—a depiction of all four of you holding hands in a park, smiling under a bright yellow sun. Beneath the figure labeled "Mom" was you, next to two smaller figures marked "Us." But next to the towering figure meant to represent Bob, the words "My Guardian Angel" were written in wobbly letters.

Bob’s face twisted as he stared, his usual confidence crumbling into something vulnerable, raw. Guilt rippled through his expression as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

Finally, he turned to you, who stood leaning against the kitchen doorway, your arms crossed defensively as you waited for him to process whatever he was feeling.

“I guess you couldn’t really tell them their dad’s a red devil, huh?” he murmured, his voice unsteady as he finally walked toward you.

You didn’t look at him, your gaze locked on the stove as you quietly prepared the hot chocolate. “No,” you replied softly but firmly. “I can’t.”

The silence between you two stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the soft clinking of the spoon as you stirred the hot chocolate on the stove. Bob watched you intently, his gaze tracing every movement with a mixture of longing and regret. He had missed you—the way you moved, the way your voice filled the room. For all his selfish desires, he knew better than to say it aloud.

Your voice shattered his thoughts.

“You know, Belle—our youngest—found an old picture of you.” You smiled faintly, but the sadness in your eyes cut deeper than any words could. “She was kissing it and asking where you were. I had to remind her… you were in ‘heaven.’”

Bob’s confident demeanor faltered. He looked away, unable to meet your gaze for the first time, guilt etched into every line of his face.

You poured the steaming hot chocolate into a cup, setting it down in front of him with deliberate care. “You know what’s funny?” you continued, your voice tinged with anger and exhaustion. “I feel jealous of how much she loves you. Because I know you don’t deserve it.”

Bob flinched as if the words had physically struck him, but he stayed silent, gripping the cup as if it were the only thing grounding him.

You stared at him, your expression hardening as you leaned forward. “They buried their memories of you with love,” you said, your voice low but sharp. “Now that you’re back…”

Bob finally looked up, meeting your glare, but the weight of your next words shook him to his core.

“What do you want me to tell them? Why?” Your tone cracked with emotion, though your resolve remained unyielding. “There’s no way to revive the man they’ve idealized without killing the truth of the one who actually left.”

The room fell silent again, the tension between you two palpable, as Bob struggled to find words that didn’t exist.

#bob velseb spooky month #bob velseb #bob velseb x reader #bob spooky month #spooky month bob velseb #spooky month bob #bob velseb fanart #bob velseb x self insert #bob velseb x y/n #spooky month #light angst #angst fic #open ending #x reader #spooky month x reader #spooky month fic #oneshot #spooky month oneshot

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antinousletmehit · 1 month ago

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I've been you're works and I LOVEEE it

I'd like to req Antinous x Princess!Reader fic I was thinking the reader could be Odysseus’ daughter, and when Odysseus comes back to Ithaca to kill the suitors. When he’s about to kill Antinous, the reader steps in to protect him because she has feelings for him. You can decide whether Antinous survives or not, I’m good with either! I just think it would make for such a dramatic and emotional story.

ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ

( feel free to ignore it! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this anyway.)

ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)♡

The grand hall of Odysseus’s palace reeked of death. Bodies of suitors lay scattered across the once ivory floor, their spilled blood soaking into the stone. The air was thick with the coppery scent of slaughter, and the cries of the dying echoed off the walls. Odysseus stood at the center, his bow gripped tightly in his hand, his face a mask of unrelenting fury. Beside him stood Telemachus, equally resolute, the blade of his sword slick with blood.

All that remained was Antinous.

He knelt at the far end of the hall, his proud face now pale with fear and smeared with dirt and blood. He clutched his side where a glancing blow had torn through his tunic, but his eyes burned with defiance even as his body betrayed his fear. Odysseus’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his bow.

“Father, wait!”

The desperate cry cut through the blood soaked air, halting Odysseus mid draw. From the shadows of the corridor, his daughter burst into the room, her face pale and tear streaked. She ran to stand between her father and the suitor, her arms spread wide as if to shield Antinous from the arrow aimed at his heart.

“Move aside, child,” Odysseus commanded, his voice cold and sharp. “He is the worst of them. He dies today.”

“No!” she cried, her voice trembling but firm. “You can’t! Please, Father, I beg you—don’t kill him!”

Odysseus’s brow furrowed, confusion momentarily softening the hard lines of his face. “Why would you plead for this one? Do you not know what he’s done? How he’s dishonored this house, this family? He sought to take my throne, your home, while I was away!”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking. She turned to look at Antinous, who was staring at her in shock. “I know what he’s done, but…I love him.” The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of her words settling like a stone.

“You…what?” Odysseus said, his voice low and dangerous.

Tears streamed down her face as she knelt before her father, clasping her hands together in supplication. “I love him, Father. Please, spare him. He made mistakes, terrible mistakes, but he’s not the monster you think he is. He’s more than that.” Antinous stared at her, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. He looked at her with a mix of disbelief and something softer, something vulnerable.

“More than that?” Odysseus barked, lowering the bow slightly but not relaxing his grip. “This man ate my food, drank my wine, and plotted to take my wife! He disrespected this house in every way imaginable. And you would plead for his life?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm despite the tears. “Because I love him, and if you kill him…” Her voice cracked. “If you kill him, you might as well kill me too.” Odysseus’s hand tightened on the bowstring, the muscles in his jaw working as he considered her words. His rage warred with the love he held for his daughter, the image of her kneeling there tearing at his heart.

Telemachus stepped forward, placing a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Father, perhaps we should listen to her,” he said cautiously. “Antinous is unarmed and defeated.” Odysseus turned his piercing gaze to his son, then back to his daughter. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with desperation and love, and for the first time, he saw her not as a little girl but as a woman willing to fight for what she believed in.

With a heavy sigh, Odysseus lowered the bow completely.

“Antinous,” he said, his voice sharp. “You live because of her, not because you deserve it. If I ever hear of you raising your hand or your voice against her, if I ever hear of you plotting against this house again, you will not get the chance to beg for mercy.” Antinous swallowed hard, his pride bruised, but he nodded. “I understand,” he said quietly, his voice thick. “You have my word.”

Odysseus turned back to his daughter. “This mercy comes at a price,” he said. “His life is yours to protect, but it is also your responsibility. Pray you’ve chosen wisely.” She nodded, tears streaming down her face as relief flooded her. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered, rising to her feet and stepping back to Antinous’s side.

Odysseus turned, his shoulders heavy with the weight of what had passed, and left the hall without another word. As the door closed behind him, Antinous looked at her, his face a mix of shame and gratitude. “You… you saved me,” he said softly.

She turned to him, her voice trembling but firm. “Don’t make me regret it.” Antinous nodded solemnly, his eyes locking with hers. “I won’t.”

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #antinous #epic telemachus #telemachus #antinous x reader #epic antinous

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norizzsainz · 2 months ago

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🌶️ NFY : GRAND PRIX WINS AND EXPOSÉS

[ carlos sainz x singer!fem!reader ]

[ summary ] carlos' and y/n's breakup comes as a surprise to many of their friends. no one ever thought the couple would ever break up, but alas, y/n was always ready to do whatever was best for the love of her life — even if it meant breaking up with him.

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━━━━━━━ MARCH 24, 2024 : MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA

“i’d just like to point out and say that i didn't have a say in attending this party tonight.”

you grumbled under your breath as everyone took their seats in the private lounge of the club.

“i didn't either.” oscar muttered from behind you, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. “can't even make a damn decision in my hometown, jeez.”

“osc, baby, hush.” lando was buzzing with excitement already, giggling as he looked at his teammate. “for you, i shall play the best house music there is.”

oscar blinked softly, looking over at his girlfriend, lily, who gave him a sheepish smile of encouragement. “yeah, that's what i was fearing.” he quipped, his voice barely audible.

the entire group turned towards the entrance when the other partygoers hooted and cheered, joining along as the ferrari boys made their entrance.

your gaze landed on carlos, hating how he still never failed to take your breath away even when he wore a simple shirt and jeans. gods, he was a beautiful man.

“earth to y/n.” you snapped out of your daze when max called out to you, a knowing smirk on his face. “you there?”

“oh, shut up.” you muttered in embarrassment, trying to direct your attention to something else.

but alas, the universe had different plans.

even when everyone was crowding to congratulate carlos on his win, he seemed to forget everything as soon as his eyes landed on you.

he quickly excused himself, his entire surroundings fading into black as he quickly made his way towards you.

“hey.” carlos greeted you softly as he stood in front of you, barely sparing a glance to anyone else. “you came.”

“you didn't really give me a choice.” you shrugged nonchalantly, though you were feeling very chalant. “congratulations on the win, by the way, smooth operator.”

carlos' smile brightened as he heard the teasing nickname, relieved to see you were feeling somewhat comfortable in his presence unlike the other times.

he hoped things would work in his favor tonight.

as the party was teeming in full blast, carlos did his best to give you your space, but he couldn't help but be drawn towards you throughout the night.

it was always him scooting closer to you, looking like he was going to talk to you before he moved away, chickening out at the last second.

even max and yuki, who were drunk off their asses, noticed carlos' pattern, wondering what he was up to.

unable to watch the pathetic scene any longer, charles shoved carlos in your direction, giving him a look that clearly said, ‘get on with it already, you coward.’

“uh, hi again.”

carlos wasn't sure why he was a nervous mess. he was usually very confident and charming, but now as he stood before you, he was nothing but a muddle of nerves.

“carlos.” you greeted him, raising your voice slightly so he could hear you over the club music. “hi again.”

“y/n.” he spoke up, reaching out to hold your arm as if he were afraid you’d walk away from him. for the second time. “look, about what you said the last time we spoke...”

you immediately shook your head, not wanting to go down that lane. “carlos, we don’t have to talk about it. i just want to forget about it all and—”

carlos’ grip on your arm tightened, stopping you from speaking. “amor. you are doing that conflict resolution thing again. don’t do that. all i wanted to say was that i’m gonna keep my promise and i will—”

before carlos could continue any further, everyone’s attention darted to lando as he let out an unidentifiable sound, some hybrid mix between a laugh and a scream.

“oh, my fucking goodness!” lando laughed in disbelief as he stared at his phone, his eyes widening in shock as the realization settled in. “carlitos! what the fuck?!”

kika and kelly stood behind him, reading the contents of his phone over his shoulders. their eyes widened in sync, lips parting in surprise.

“guys. sky sports gossip posted.” kika stated, causing everyone to reach for their phones. “you have to check it out.”

you looked from lando to carlos, wondering what your ex-boyfriend had done to land up on the sky sports gossip page and get such a reaction from the others.

your jaw was pretty much on the floor as soon as you finished reading the article and the comments it had received, your eyes widening in surprise. you skimmed through the apology post, your heart skipping several beats as you realized that carlos was the one who was behind everything.

everyone was just as shocked by the revelations, even the drunken pair, max and yuki, sobering up after seeing the articles and the aftermath of it all.

“carlos…” you couldn’t even find the words as carlos just smiled at you softly, tilting his head as if to say, ‘i told you so’. “you are absolutely insane, you know that?”

“insane is a bit too harsh, no?” he chuckled in amusement, his eyes crinkling as his smile widened.

“i promised, didn't i, carina? that i’d make it right. and i hope i did.”

TAGLIST : @d3kstar , @khaylin27 , @sailing-with-100-ships , @lorenakaspersen , @be-your-coffee-pot , @shakespereansonnet , @sltwins , @laneyspaulding19 , @fangirl125reader , @lewisvinga , @c-losur3 , @yeetskeetstreet , @sam-is-lost , @imsiriuslyreal , @ilove-tswizzle , @bernelflo , @mycenterfold , @justkalcpxia , @multi-fandom-fan221b , @jinimon-tr , @neivivenaj , @jointhehunt67 , @fangirl-dot-com , @brune77e , @brekkers-whore , @honethatty12 , @bokutos-babyowl , @shineforever19 , @spideybv28 , @princessria127 , @ari-nicole , @yl90 , @sp1rl , @evie-119 , @minkyungseokie , @tinyhrry , @barcelonaloverf1life , @goldenharrysworld , @jsprien213 , @justaf1girl

IF YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST, PLEASE COMMENT DOWN BELOW, SEND AN ASK OR DM!

#[📝] works #f1 x reader #f1 #carlos imagines #carlos scenarios #carlos sainz imagines #carlos x reader #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz drabbles #f1 drabbles #f1 imagines #f1 scenarios #f1 carlos #carlos sainz #carlos

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novaursa · 5 months ago

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A Flame Torn (broken)

- Summary: Your father breaks Aegon, to avenge your broken heart.

- Pairing: cousin!reader/Aegon (The Uncrowned) Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: unworthy

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @callsignwidow

The air around the God’s Eye was thick with mist and tension, the sun a pale disk veiled behind gray clouds. On the shores of the great lake, two dragons faced each other, their wings spread wide, casting long shadows across the water. The sky above roiled with the promise of a storm, as if the gods themselves were watching the confrontation that would reshape the fate of House Targaryen.

Maegor the Cruel sat astride Balerion the Black Dread, his armor gleaming black as the shadow of his dragon. The sight of the monstrous dragon, its scales dark as night and its eyes like pools of hot coals, was enough to strike fear into the heart of any man. But across from him, mounted upon the smaller yet valiant Quicksilver, was Aegon the Uncrowned, his silver-gold hair caught in the wind, his expression resolute.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind and the distant cry of a lone bird. Then Aegon’s voice cut through the silence, carrying across the water with a desperate determination. “Uncle, listen to reason! We do not have to spill each other’s blood today. I offer you peace—an alliance that will strengthen our family and unite our claims. Marry me to Y/N. Let me be her husband, and I will support your reign.”

Maegor’s eyes, cold and unfeeling, narrowed at Aegon’s words. He had anticipated many things, but not this—a plea for peace from the nephew who had once sought his throne. “You think you can mend what you broke, boy?” he growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “You think you can repair the heart you shattered with a few sweet words?”

Aegon’s grip tightened on Quicksilver’s reins, desperation flickering in his eyes. “I severed my betrothal to Rhaena when my father still lived! I did it for her, for Y/N, and for the hope that one day she might forgive me. I know I have done wrong, but this... this is a chance to make it right. Let me stand beside her. Let us unite our blood for the realm’s sake.”

Maegor’s expression twisted into a sneer. “You will never have her, Aegon. Not after what you did. And not after the way you grovel now, begging for scraps like a dog. My daughter deserves more than you—a weakling who hides behind words and hopes for mercy.”

Aegon’s face hardened, a steely resolve replacing the plea in his voice. “You claim to care for her, yet you refuse her happiness. I will not let you destroy all that is left of our family’s hope.”

Maegor’s laughter echoed across the lake, a dark, mocking sound that sent a shiver down Aegon’s spine. “You think yourself a hero, but you are a fool. You speak of family, yet you challenge me, the rightful king, for a throne you are too weak to hold.” He raised his hand, and Balerion bellowed, the sound reverberating like the roar of an erupting volcano. “Very well, then, boy. If you wish to play the hero, let us see how you fare in the flames.”

Without another word, Maegor spurred Balerion forward, the Black Dread surging into the sky with a terrifying speed. Aegon followed, Quicksilver’s wings beating rapidly as they ascended above the God’s Eye. The two dragons circled each other like dark stars, their riders grim and silent, preparing for the battle that could only end in blood.

Fire filled the air as Balerion unleashed a torrent of flame, the heat so intense that the waters of the lake below began to steam. Quicksilver darted through the air, smaller and faster, evading the worst of the flames, but the heat singed its silver wings. Aegon urged his dragon higher, guiding Quicksilver with precision, but each time he drew closer, Maegor drove them back with Balerion’s powerful dives and strikes.

“You were never meant for the throne, Aegon!” Maegor shouted, his voice carrying across the sky. “You do not have the strength to rule, nor the spine to keep it!”

“And you will never understand what it means to protect the realm!” Aegon shouted back, his voice hoarse with rage and pain. “All you know is blood and terror!”

Their dragons clashed, talons raking against scales, jaws snapping in a frenzy of rage. Quicksilver bit at Balerion’s neck, but the larger dragon swung its massive head, sending Quicksilver spiraling through the air. For a moment, it looked as if Aegon might recover, but Maegor directed Balerion down with a savage strike, and Balerion’s jaws closed around Quicksilver’s wing.

With a sickening crack, Quicksilver’s wing was torn apart. The smaller dragon’s roar of agony filled the air as it fell, its body twisting as it plummeted toward the lake below. Aegon’s grip on his saddle slipped, his face a mask of desperation as he struggled to regain control.

Balerion followed, a dark shadow against the stormy sky. With a final, vicious strike, Balerion’s massive maw closed around Quicksilver’s neck, ending the smaller dragon’s struggle in an instant. The two dragons, locked together in a deadly embrace, crashed into the waters of the God’s Eye, sending up a massive wave that rippled across the shore.

Aegon, mortally wounded, lay in the water, gasping as he tried to rise, blood pouring from the wounds inflicted by the fall and Balerion’s might. His eyes, filled with pain and a lingering hope, sought out Maegor as his uncle dismounted from Balerion’s back, the massive dragon looming behind him like the shadow of death.

Maegor stalked through the shallows, his expression cold as he looked down at the prince he had bested. “You speak of love, Aegon. Of peace. But you were always too weak to understand what it truly costs. You were never worthy of her.”

Aegon’s breath came in wet, shuddering gasps, his body trembling from the pain of his wounds. “And... you think... you know her heart?” he managed to choke out, his voice barely a whisper. “She... will never forgive you... for this.”

Maegor’s lips curled into a dark smile, his eyes glittering with cruel satisfaction. “She does not need to. She will understand, in time, that this is the only way. You were a lesson, Aegon. A lesson in what happens to those who overreach.”

With that, Maegor turned and walked away, leaving Aegon to his final breaths in the cold waters of the God’s Eye. The ripples of his passing spread out across the lake, mingling with the blood of the fallen dragon, a dark stain against the gray waters.

The healers who rushed to the shore found nothing but the broken body of a once-proud prince, his spirit fading with the last light of the dying sun.

And somewhere in the distance, you feel a chill wind brush against your skin as you wait, knowing that your father will soon return with victory—but at the cost of something that was once precious, something you will never be able to reclaim.

#fire and blood #fire and blood x reader #aegon the uncrowned #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aegon x y/n #house of the dragon #hotd #game of thrones #got #asoiaf #asoif/got #a song of ice and fire

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tanjamikaelson · 3 months ago

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BEST BRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 8

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 8: | I LIKE HIM |

warnings: unprotected sex

In the fading light of evening, you found yourself standing in front of the Cameron house, your heart heavy with worry and determination. You couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in your chest ever since Rafe’s encounter with Barry. There were so many unanswered questions swirling in your mind, and the only person who could give you any clarity was Sarah. You needed to know what was going on with her and the Pogues, what trouble they might be getting into, and how it was affecting her.

When Rose greeted you at the door, she smiled warmly, her expression light and carefree—completely unaware of the turmoil you knew was brewing beneath the surface. “Sarah’s in her room,” she told you, and you nodded, making your way upstairs with a sense of urgency.

You knocked on Sarah’s door, your hand trembling slightly. “Come in,” she called, her voice muffled through the wood. You pushed the door open and found her sprawled out on her bed, her face illuminated by the glow of her phone screen. She looked up at you, a smile breaking across her face.

“Hey, I wanted to come over. We haven’t seen each other for two days,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual, but there was a slight tremor in your voice that you couldn’t hide.

“I know. I’ve been with John B a lot,” Sarah replied, her tone light, almost distracted.

“Yeah, I heard.” You paused, the next words catching in your throat. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “What was that about you and the Pogues stealing from drug dealers?”

Sarah’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise and confusion. “How do you know about that?”

You hesitated, the truth lingering on your tongue, but you knew you couldn’t lie to her. “I was wit—um..” You stopped yourself, the words caught in your throat. Then, with a deep breath, you pushed through, deciding to tell her everything, no matter how she reacted. “I was with Rafe.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her expression shifting from confusion to shock. “You were with Rafe?!”

“Yeah, I was,” you admitted, standing your ground, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling in your chest. There was a hint of defiance in your tone, a subtle pride in the fact that you weren’t hiding your relationship with him anymore, that you weren’t afraid to admit it, even to her.

“What were you doing with Rafe?” Sarah asked, her voice laced with disbelief. You could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to piece together what you were saying with what she knew of her brother.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, then decided to just rip off the Band-Aid. “I slept with him.”

The shock on Sarah’s face was immediate and palpable, her eyes widening as if you had just slapped her. “You what?”

“You heard me right, Sarah.” Your voice was steady, resolute. You weren’t going to repeat yourself, weren’t going to back down.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief and something that almost sounded like betrayal. “Did he—did he pressure you to do it? He must’ve—”

“No.” You cut her off, your voice firm. You needed her to understand, needed her to know that this was your choice, not something Rafe had pushed you into. “I wanted it as much as he did.”

Sarah shook her head, a disbelieving laugh escaping her lips. She looked away, her fingers twisting in the bed sheets as if she were trying to find some sense of normalcy, some anchor in the chaos you’d just dropped on her. “I can’t believe you.”

You were about to respond when you noticed her gaze shift over your shoulder, her eyes widening in surprise and fear. “John B. What are you doing here?”

You turned, your heart lurching in your chest as you saw John B standing in the doorway. His expression was hard, his eyes cold and determined, but what caught your attention—what made your blood run cold—was the gun in his hand.

You gasped, your breath catching in your throat. “John B, why do you have a gun?”

“Did you tell your dad about the gold?” he asked Sarah, his voice tense, his grip on the gun tightening. There was something desperate in his eyes, something frantic.

“Where’s that coming from?” Sarah asked, her voice wavering, her eyes locked on the gun. You could see the fear in her expression, the confusion. She was scared, and so were you.

“Answer the question,” John B pressed, his voice cold and unyielding.

“About the gold? No.” Sarah shook her head, her voice trembling. “No, of course not.”

“Then how’d he know, huh?” John B’s voice rose, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “How did he know?” He grabbed Sarah’s arm, pulling her towards him, his face inches from hers. She gasped, her eyes wide with fear and shock.

“John B, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, her voice breaking, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Is life outside the Bubble Wrap scary to you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with bitterness. He was shaking, his emotions teetering on the edge of control.

Before you could react, Ward’s voice echoed through the house, shouting Sarah’s name. John B’s head snapped up, his grip tightening on Sarah as he began to pull her towards the door.

“Hey, where are you taking her?!” you asked, panic surging through you as you watched him drag her away.

“Stay out of this!” John B hissed, his voice sharp, the threat clear in his eyes. You froze, your feet rooted to the spot, fear paralyzing you. You had always heard about how the Pogues were trouble, how dangerous they could be, and now, seeing it firsthand, you realized just how true those warnings were.

You stayed in Sarah’s room for what felt like an eternity, your mind racing, your heart pounding. You couldn’t leave, couldn’t risk running into John B again, but the fear and worry gnawed at you, making it impossible to think straight.

When Sarah finally returned, her face pale and her eyes red from crying, you rushed to her, desperate to understand what had just happened. “Sarah,” you began, your voice trembling, reaching out to her, but she stepped back, her expression closed off, a wall of pain and anger between you.

“What did he want? What gold is he talking about?” you asked, your voice small and tentative, the questions tumbling out in your desperation to make sense of it all.

“It doesn’t concern you,” Sarah said bitterly, her voice sharp, her eyes avoiding yours.

“Of course it does when he comes here with a gun! He could’ve hurt you—” you argued, your voice rising with fear and frustration. You couldn’t understand how she could brush this off, how she could act like it didn’t matter.

Sarah let out a bitter laugh, her eyes finally meeting yours, but they were cold, distant. “He wouldn’t hurt me. But Rafe will definitely hurt you…”

You shook your head, your heart aching at her words, at the disbelief and anger in her voice. “No. I like him, Sarah. I always did.”

“How can you like him?” Sarah snapped, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and frustration. She wasn’t just mad at you for being with Rafe; she was mad because she thought he was a bad person because she believed he was dangerous, and she couldn’t understand why you didn’t see that.

“He was always nice towards me,” you said softly, your voice trembling. You wished she could see what you saw in him, the tenderness he had shown you, the way he made you feel safe, and protected.

“Yeah, until he isn’t anymore…” Sarah’s voice was sharp, her words like a slap, stinging and painful. “Please go, I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“But Sarah—” you began, your heart breaking at the distance between you, at the way she was pushing you away, but she cut you off, her voice rising in anger.

“I’m serious, go!” she exclaimed, her voice loud and forceful, the finality in her tone leaving no room for argument.

You flinched, the force of her words hitting you like a physical blow. You knew she was mad, knew she would react like this about you and Rafe, but it still hurt, still felt like a knife twisting in your chest. You wanted to stay, to try and talk to her, to make her understand, but you could see that she wasn’t ready, that she needed time.

With a heavy heart, you turned on your heel and left her room, your mind spinning, your emotions raw and tangled. You hoped that, maybe later, when things had calmed down, she would want to talk, that you could fix this rift between you. But for now, all you could do was walk away, your heart aching with the weight of everything that had happened.

Leaving Sarah’s house altogether, your heart felt like it was in pieces, and your mind was a tangled mess of emotions. The cold night air stung your cheeks as you walked down the empty, dark street, the only sound being the distant rustling of leaves and the occasional bark of a dog. Each step felt heavy, your thoughts swirling uncontrollably as you replayed the events of the past hour—Sarah’s anger, John B’s gun, the terrifying chaos that seemed to be consuming everything around you.

You hadn’t meant for things to spiral like this. You just wanted to be honest with Sarah, to share with her what was going on between you and Rafe. But now you felt like everything was falling apart, the distance between you and your best friend widening into a chasm that you didn’t know how to cross.

Your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, leading you to the one place you knew you could find comfort, the only place you felt you could breathe again—Rafe’s. The house where he was staying loomed in the darkness, a familiar, comforting silhouette against the night sky. You hesitated for a moment at the door, your hand hovering over the handle, a flicker of doubt running through you. Should you be here? Should you be turning to him when everything felt so unstable?

But you pushed the doubt aside and walked in, your need to see him, to feel his arms around you, overriding everything else. You made your way upstairs, your heart pounding with anticipation and anxiety. You needed to be with him, needed to know that he was okay after everything that had happened.

When you found him, your heart dropped. Rafe was bent over a table, his body tense, his head low. You watched in shock as he brought something up to his nose and sniffed, the unmistakable line of white powder disappearing in an instant.

“Shit.” He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, his eyes widening in surprise. He straightened up quickly, wiping the remnants of coke from his nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would come over.”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting. Seeing him like this—so vulnerable, so caught up in something that was hurting him—made your heartache. But you couldn’t let him see your fear, your disappointment. You needed to be strong for him, you needed to show him that you were there no matter what.

You walked over to the empty armchair and sank down, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Rafe sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, his eyes still glossy from the high. “You didn’t come last night.”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, unsure how to explain yourself. “I stayed home. I didn’t want my mom to worry again.”

He nodded, but you could see the concern in his eyes, the way he was looking at you like he was trying to read your thoughts. “You seem upset.”

You took a deep breath, the memory of what had happened at Sarah’s house still fresh, the fear and confusion still lingering in your mind. “I was at Sarah’s, and John B came with a gun…” you began, your voice shaking slightly as you recalled the tense confrontation.

“With a gun?” Rafe’s voice was sharp, his worry immediate and intense, his eyes searching your face. “Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?”

You nodded, trying to reassure him. “Yeah, I’m fine. He started asking Sarah some questions about the gold and—”

“What gold?” Rafe interrupted, his brow furrowed in confusion.

You shrugged helplessly, the same question spinning in your mind. “I have no idea. But he was acting crazy. I was afraid he was going to hurt her.”

Rafe’s face hardened, a dark shadow passing over his features. “I’m surprised you didn’t stay with her.”

“Well, she kinda didn’t want me around after I told her I slept with you.” The words came out before you could think, and you watched Rafe’s eyes widen in shock.

“You did?” There was surprise in his voice, but also something else, something softer, more vulnerable.

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of pride and sadness. “Yeah, she didn’t react well, but I already knew that would happen.”

“Then what made you say it to her?” Rafe asked, his voice gentle, curious.

“I don’t want us to be a secret and sneak around all the time,” you said softly, your heart aching with the truth of it. You didn’t want to hide anymore, didn’t want to feel like you were doing something wrong by being with him.

Rafe’s expression softened, his eyes filling with something warm, something that made your heart flutter. “Come here,” he murmured, reaching out his hand to you.

You took his hand, and he pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you securely. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, with desire.

You could see the raw honesty in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. You placed your hands on his cheeks, your thumbs brushing softly over his skin. “I think I might have a few,” you teased, your voice light, trying to ease the heaviness between you.

He didn’t waste another second. Rafe’s lips crashed against yours, his kiss was urgent and hungry, as if he were trying to pour all his emotions, all his gratitude and love, into that single moment. His tongue pushed past your lips, and you met him eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you moved to straddle him, pressing yourself against his already hardening cock.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your waist as if he were afraid you’d disappear. The heat between you was intense, electric, and you could feel his desperation, his need to be close to you, to lose himself in you.

Suddenly, you were lifted off the chair as Rafe stood up, his arms strong and steady around you. He carried you towards the room, his lips never leaving yours, the kiss deepening with each step. You felt the soft mattress against your back as he laid you down gently, his body hovering over yours, his eyes dark with desire.

“I want to eat you out,” Rafe declared, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to make you go crazy, like you make me.”

“Please do,” you whimpered, your legs instinctively parting for him, your body aching for his touch.

Your dress had ridden up, exposing your expensive lace thong. You had worn it just for him, hoping you’d get to see him tonight, hoping for a moment like this. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his hands sliding up your thighs as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your thong and pulled it down, tossing it aside carelessly.

He looked at you, his gaze hungry, devouring. “Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and desire.

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites in his wake. You closed your eyes, your breath hitching as his fingers found your core, spreading your wetness, teasing you. He drew slow circles on your clit, his touch light and deliberate, making your back arch and your hips lift off the bed.

“Rafe, please,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need.

He looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief and adoration. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes, oh god, yes,” you breathed, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you, your body trembling with anticipation.

He grinned, his fingers slipping inside you, his mouth hovering just above your clit. He placed a feather-light kiss on your mound, and you whimpered, your body aching for more.

When his lips finally made contact, you cried out, your hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer. He moaned against your core, the sound vibrating through you, making you shiver. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your vision blur.

“Rafe, oh god—” Your voice was a high, breathless whimper, your body arching off the bed as he sucked on your clit, his fingers moving faster, deeper.

It was too much, the pleasure building and building until you felt like you were going to break apart. Your walls tightened around his fingers, and you felt yourself tipping over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you, your cries echoing in the room.

“Such a good girl,” Rafe murmured, his voice hoarse as he licked you clean, his touch gentle, reverent. But when you tried to push him away, your body too sensitive, he stood, a cocky grin on his face.

“I want you inside me,” you confessed, your voice shaky, your body still trembling from your release.

“Can you handle it?” He laughed lowly, his eyes dark with desire, with the thrill of having you so desperate for him.

“Please, Rafe,” you begged, your voice a soft, needy whimper.

Rafe smirked, his gaze locked on yours. “So desperate for my dick…” He tugged down his shorts and boxers, his cock springing free, hard and thick, a droplet of precum glistening at the tip.

“I want to show you a different position,” he said, his voice filled with anticipation. He grabbed your legs, flipping you onto your stomach with an effortless strength that made you gasp. His hands slid up your back, lingering at your waist as he adjusted your hips, pulling them up and into the air. Your dress was bunched around your waist, your skin exposed and vulnerable. You shivered as the cool air brushed against your sensitive skin, the anticipation making your heart race. You could feel his eyes on you, could almost hear the thoughts racing through his mind as he took in the sight of you, laid out before him, ready and waiting.

“Trust me, you’ll feel my dick even better like this,” Rafe murmured, his voice low and almost reverent. He sounded awestruck like he couldn’t believe this was happening, like he couldn’t believe you were really here with him, wanting this as much as he did.

You sucked in a breath, biting your lower lip as you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you. The sensation was maddening, the promise of what was to come making your pulse hammer in your ears.

When he finally pushed inside you, the stretch was immediate, and intense. You moaned, your fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as he slid in slowly, inch by inch. It felt impossibly deep, every nerve in your body lighting up as he filled you completely. Your walls clenched around him, and you heard him suck in a sharp breath, his grip on your hips tightening.

“Can I move?” he asked, his voice strained, his usual confidence tempered with a gentleness that made your heart twist. He wanted to make sure you were okay, wanted to be certain he wasn’t hurting you.

“Yes,” you managed to whisper, your voice raspy and low. You could feel every inch of him, the way he stretched and filled you, the way he fit perfectly like he was made for you.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” he groaned, his hips beginning to move in slow, deliberate thrusts. “You feel so fucking good.”

You whimpered, feeling him so deep inside you, desperate for more, for everything he could give. “Harder, Rafe—” you moaned, your voice breathless, pleading.

“Like this?” he asked, and before you could answer, he pulled back almost all the way and then thrust hard and fast into you, the force of it making you cry out, your body arching under his. The sensation was overwhelming, a sharp, intense pleasure that sent sparks shooting through your veins. You bit down on the sheets, your body trembling, barely able to handle the way he was making you feel.

He repeated the motion, each thrust hard and deep, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your vision blur, that made everything else disappear. Your arms felt like they were going to give out, your entire body trembling as he took you apart, piece by piece.

Rafe noticed your struggle, and before you could collapse, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you up against his chest. You gasped at the new angle, at how impossibly deep he felt inside you now. His other arm was wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close, his breath hot against your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice rough and strained. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back, trying to stay in control, to not completely lose himself in you.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut as he picked up his pace, his hips snapping against yours in a relentless rhythm. His hand moved from your waist to your throat, hovering there, his fingers brushing against your skin.

“You like this?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh god—yes, Rafe,” you breathed out, your voice breaking, your body trembling. “I love it so much.”

You felt like you were on the edge, your body coiling tighter and tighter, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. Rafe’s right hand slid down your body, his fingers brushing over your breast before he found your clit, his touch sending a shockwave through you.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered, your voice high and breathless. You could barely think, barely breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the sensation of his body against yours, of his cock buried deep inside you, his fingers moving in quick, deliberate circles over your clit.

“Wait for me,” Rafe murmured, his voice a low, desperate whimper. He was close too, you could feel it in the way his hips stuttered, in the way his breath came in harsh, ragged gasps.

“I can’t, please—” You were teetering on the edge, your body trembling, your mind unraveling, everything inside you screaming for release.

“You won’t cum unless I say so,” Rafe growled, his voice rough and commanding. His words, his tone, sent a thrill through you, made you tighten around him, made you want to do exactly what he said, to hold out just a little longer, to wait for him.

“Please,” the words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice a soft, needy whimper. You didn’t even know where it came from, didn’t even realize you’d said it until you felt Rafe’s entire body tense behind you. He almost came.

“Yeah, you want me to let you cum?” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his hand tightening around your throat. “Beg like the little whore you are, then.”

“Please, let me cum,” you pleaded, your voice sweet and desperate, your body trembling with need. “I’ve been so good to you, please… let me cum. I need it so bad.”

Rafe let out a low, guttural groan, his hips snapping against yours harder, faster. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice strained, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. His grip on your throat tightened just enough to make you dizzy, just enough to make your head spin.

With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing, his cock throbbing as he came. The feeling of him filling you, the heat of his release, sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you, your body shaking, your cries echoing in the room.

Rafe stayed inside you, his movements slowing, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high. He kissed your neck, and your shoulder, his lips soft and tender against your skin.

“Fuck, I wasn’t wearing a condom,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence, the realization hitting him like a punch.

Your eyes snapped open, your heart skipping a beat as you looked back at him, panic rising in your chest. “What?”

“It’s fine. You won’t get pregnant,” Rafe said quickly, trying to reassure you, but you could hear the uncertainty in his voice, the fear that he was trying to hide.

“How do you know?” Your voice was rising, the panic spilling over, your mind racing with a thousand terrifying thoughts. “Oh my god—” You could feel the tears starting to well up, your heart pounding wildly. “You need to go and buy Plan B.”

“Right now?” Rafe asked, his eyes wide, his expression caught between guilt and confusion.

“Yes, right away,” you insisted, your voice urgent, your fear spilling out in a rush of words. “Please, Rafe. I can’t get pregnant.”

“I don’t know. I kinda liked you calling me Daddy,” he tried to joke, a half-smile on his lips, but it fell flat, the fear and panic in your eyes cutting through his attempt to lighten the mood.

“Rafe, I’m serious,” you said, your voice breaking, the tears spilling over now, your hands trembling as you tried to wipe them away. “This isn’t something to joke about.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” he said softly, his expression shifting, the playfulness gone. He reached out, brushing your tears away with his thumb, his touch gentle. “I’m sorry. I’ll go get it, okay? Don’t cry, please.”

You nodded, your breath hitching as you tried to calm down. “Okay. Just… hurry.”

“I will,” he promised, leaning in to kiss you softly, his lips lingering against yours. “I’m sorry, baby. I was just joking around.”

You sniffed, nodding again. “I know. Just—please, hurry.”

He got off the bed, pulling on his boxers and shorts, and then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him. You lay there for a moment, your heart still racing, your mind still spinning. The room smelled like the two of you, a heady mix of sweat and sex and something uniquely Rafe, and it made your chest tighten, made the tears well up again.

After a few moments, you forced yourself to move, to get up and take a shower. The hot water helped clear your mind, and helped wash away some of the panic. You kept telling yourself it would be fine, that everything would be okay, but the fear still lingered, a cold knot in your stomach.

By the time you finished, Rafe had returned. He had the Plan B pill in one hand and a pizza box in the other. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, at the way he looked so earnest, so concerned.

“I got you some food,” he said, holding up the pizza, a tentative smile on his face. “I thought you might be hungry.” There was a softness in his eyes, a gentleness that contrasted so starkly with the intensity of everything you’d just been through.

“Thank you,” you murmured, the weight in your chest lightening just a little at his thoughtfulness. You took the Plan B pill from his hand and swallowed it with a glass of water, relief washing over you as you did. You knew it was the right thing to do, but the reality of the situation still made your heart race.

Rafe watched you, his eyes never leaving your face, his worry palpable. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s okay,” you sighed, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “It’s just… this is all so new, and I don’t want anything to mess it up, you know?”

He nodded, his expression softening, and he reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I get it. And I promise I’ll be more careful next time.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, at the sincerity in his eyes. It was strange, how quickly things had changed between you two, how deeply you felt for him already. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Let’s just eat,” you suggested, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m starving.”

Rafe’s smile widened, relief evident in his expression as he set the pizza box down on the small table outside on the patio. “Good idea. I’m starving too.”

The night air was cool against your skin as you stepped outside with him, the sound of crickets filling the quiet. You both settled onto the patio chairs, the dim light from inside casting a soft glow over you.

For a while, you ate in comfortable silence, the tension from earlier slowly ebbing away as you focused on the simple pleasure of being with him, of sharing a meal together. Rafe’s gaze kept flicking to you, his eyes soft, his smile easy, and every time you caught him looking, your heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you for getting this,” you said after a while, gesturing to the pizza, your voice quiet. “And the pill, I mean.”

“Of course,” Rafe replied, his tone serious. “I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

His words hung in the air between you, charged with an intensity that made your breath catch. You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the vulnerability there, the raw honesty in his eyes. It wasn’t just about tonight, about what had happened. It was about everything—about who he was, who he was trying to be for you.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice trembling just a little. “And I’d do anything for you too.”

He reached across the table, his hand finding yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the strength in his grip, and it anchored you, made you feel safe.

For a long moment, you just sat there, holding his hand, the quiet of the night wrapping around you both like a comforting blanket. It felt like a promise, unspoken but real, that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

After a while, you both finished eating, the pizza box now empty between you. Rafe leaned back in his chair, his eyes on you, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

“You know, I could get used to this,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing. “Just you and me, no one else around.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and genuine. “Me too. It’s… nice.”

“It’s more than nice,” he murmured, his gaze turning serious again. “I know things are complicated right now, with Sarah and everything, but… I want this. I want us.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a mixture of joy and fear that made your heart beat faster. You wanted it too, wanted him, but you knew it wouldn’t be easy. There were so many obstacles, so many things that could go wrong.

“I want us too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s going to be hard.”

“I know,” Rafe said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “But I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. Whatever happened next, you knew you had him, and that was enough.

As the night deepened, you both stayed on the patio, talking quietly, your hands still intertwined. The world outside felt far away, the worries and fears that had seemed so overwhelming were now distant, muted by the warmth and comfort of being together.

When you finally went back inside, you felt lighter, more certain. You curled up in bed with Rafe, his arms wrapped around you, his breath warm against your neck. There was no need for words, no need for anything but the quiet, steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that whatever came next, whatever challenges you faced, you would face them together.

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