#one last post before I go lurking again

[nhilovesflower]

i can't do this anymore

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[sleepyjuice]

toxic!rafe will blow your phone up the second you post something on instagram that he’s ‘iffy’ about.

you posted a photo dump which consisted of some random photos of the beach, some of your friends, one of you and rafe of course, but the one that had rafe seeing red was the last slide, which was you in a bikini. he texted you several times at first, and while you were literally typing your response, he called you. your fingers were typing so fast to respond to him that you accidentally declined the call, and he did not like that. you immediately went to call him back, but another text from rafe rolled in, saying ‘fuck you don’t talk to me we’re done’ you sighed loudly, knowing damn well he was talking out of his ass right now, so you sat back and waited for the inevitable next string of texts to roll in. which they did, only seconds later.

rafe <3: do you get off on making me mad or something

rafe <3: like i’m racking my brain trying to understand why you do the things you do and that’s all i can come up with

rafe <3: and i see at least 4 guys have already liked your post like that’s crazy to me?? thought i told you to block all the guys that followed you?? of course you didn’t

rafe <3: also who even took that pic of you??? bc i know damn well it wasn’t me so who the fuck you posing for with your fucking ass and tits out? WHAT THE FUCK

rafe <3: DO NOT PUT YOUR SHIT ON DO NOT DISTURB answer me rn.

rafe <3: nah it’s cool actually i’m gonna go hit up my other gfs so you have a good night.

you rolled your eyes at that last text, deciding to fully turn your phone off. you knew he would likely try to text or call you again very soon but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. this wasn’t your first rodeo, you knew nothing you could say to him right now would calm him down, so letting him freak out on his own was the best method to his madness.

three hours had passed since you turned your phone off. you had caught up on some reading and turned on your current favorite show, but found yourself interrupted by a knock at your front door. you expected it to be rafe, but instead it was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a gift bag. you glanced around to see if rafe was lurking around, but saw nothing. when he freaked out over text and was able to reread his actions, he usually waited a bit longer to show his face as opposed to a verbal argument.

you brought the flowers inside and set them on the counter before grabbing the card attached to the side of the bouquet.

sorry we argued. you are so beautiful and i love you so much. got you a little gift and sent you some money for food and i set your appointment with your nail girl for tomorrow at 10. love you forever baby -rafe

you couldn’t help but smile just a little. the flowers were beautiful and the note was pretty sweet, so you chose to ignore the part where he said ‘we argued.’ you didn’t get a word in, but you let it slide. especially after you opened the gift bag to see the new dior bag you had been wanting.

you hurried to turn on your phone, immediately seeing a $500 apple payment from rafe as well as a new text from a few minutes ago.

rafe <3: hope you like the flowers and bag baby. love you! :)

you: i love them. thanks rafe, love you too

rafe <3: good to hear. lmk what you end up getting for dinner and i’ll pick you up tomorrow to take you to your nail apt. can’t wait to see you baby

you would order yourself dinner that was obviously way less than $500, but you would send rafe a picture and thank him again. you’d facetime him before bed and conversation flowed like nothing had even happened just hours before. he’d ask you what color nails you were getting, tell you funny stories about the old men at the country club and excitedly plan what you two were going to do the next day. the cycle seemed like it would never end, but you often forgot about the bad when he was talking so sweetly to you and all you could think about was how excited you were to see him tomorrow.

[solaceseven]

crawling back to you

pairing: sukuna x reader

genre: angst

inspired by the song do i wanna know? live at bbc by hozier

it’s been three months.

three months since the door slammed shut behind you, leaving nothing but silence in your wake. three months since you walked away, and sukuna didn’t chase after you—not that night, not the morning after, not the weeks that followed. he told himself it was for the best. that this was what you wanted.

but now, as he sits alone in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a vice, he wonders if he made the biggest mistake of his life.

the buzzing of his tattoo machine is the only thing that keeps him sane most days. his clients come and go, faces he barely registers as he inks intricate designs onto their skin. it’s the only time his mind goes quiet—when his hands are busy, the hum of the machine drowning out the thoughts he doesn’t want to face.

but the second the machine powers down, reality creeps back in. and reality is cruel.

because no matter how hard he tries, you’re everywhere.

he sees you in the smallest things—things that shouldn’t remind him of you, but somehow always do. In the flicker of a neon sign outside the shop that hums the same soft glow as the fairy lights you used to hang in your room. in the faint scent of vanilla and jasmine that lingers when someone walks past him on the street, never quite matching the way it clung to your skin. in the half-empty coffee cup sitting on the counter, lipstick smudged at the rim, and he’s reminded of lazy mornings when you’d steal sips from his mug, laughing when he grumbled but never really minded.

you’re in the song that plays softly from the radio while he works—one he never paid attention to before but now knows every word to because it was always on your playlists. in the chipped black nail polish on his coworker’s hands, a fleeting reminder of the countless nights you sat cross-legged on his couch, painting your nails and teasing him for being too still as he let you paint his, too.

but worst of all, he sees you in his reflection—tired eyes that have lost their edge, the weight of regret carving its place in the lines of his face. in the faint traces of your touch that still linger like phantom sensations along the tattoos you used to trace absentmindedly with your fingers, as if memorizing every inch of him.

and when his coworkers scroll through their phones, laughter echoing through the shop, there you are again—captured in a fleeting Instagram story from some party last weekend. grainy, imperfect, but unmistakably you. smiling, carefree, eyes crinkling in that way that always made something in his chest tighten. and god, how he hates the way it guts him, wishing—aching—that he was still the reason for that smile.

you unfollowed him. he noticed immediately.

one day, your name was gone from his notifications, your profile nowhere to be found. he tried not to care. tried to convince himself that it was just social media. but it gnawed at him. you were cutting him out piece by piece, and all he could do was watch it happen.

he lurks in the shadows, hoping one of your friends posts something—anything—that gives him a glimpse of you. It’s pathetic, he knows, but it’s the only thing he has left.

there’s a bitter irony in it all. he was the one who pushed you away first. always keeping you at arm’s length, never letting you in too close. you wanted more—deserved more—but he couldn’t give it to you. not when vulnerability felt like a weakness he couldn’t afford.

and now? now, he craves your presence like a man starved.

the shop is quieter than usual tonight. it’s late, and everyone else has left. sukuna leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of traffic outside barely audible through the thick walls. the glow from his phone screen flickers beside him, but he doesn’t touch it.

not yet.

he’s been doing this every night. sitting here, contemplating. the urge to reach out is unbearable, but something always stops him. pride, maybe. or fear.

fear that you’ve moved on. that you don’t want to hear from him. that he’s too late.

his chest tightens at the thought.

he tried to fill the void, but nothing ever worked.

not the long hours at the tattoo shop, where he threw himself into his work until his fingers ached and his mind blurred. not the mindless scrolling through social media, hoping—not that he’d ever admit it—that he might catch a glimpse of you. not the empty nights spent lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for exhaustion to drag him under.

nothing could distract him from the ache of missing you.

his friends tell him it’s time to move on. they say three months is long enough to let someone go. that there are plenty of people out there. but what do they know? they didn’t spend endless nights memorizing the shape of your smile, or the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, like he was the only person in the world. they didn’t hear the quiet affection in your voice when you whispered his name in the dead of night, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over the tattoos on his chest like you were trying to commit every line to memory.

his friends didn’t feel the weight of your absence like he did—the way it settled deep in his bones, heavy and inescapable. they didn’t know how every morning, he still reached for you instinctively, only to be met with the cold, empty space beside him. how even now, he still slept on his side of the bed, as if leaving room for you just in case.

how could he fall for someone new when he was still so busy being yours?

they didn’t see how badly he broke you when he shut you out.

the memory of your last fight is still fresh, even after all this time. you stood in the doorway, tears brimming in your eyes, asking him—begging him—to just let you in. to tell you what he wanted. and all he gave you was silence.

he thought you’d stay. you always had before. but that night, you walked away. and now, the silence is all he has left.

his fingers twitch toward his phone, but he stops himself. what’s the point? you deserve better than a half-assed apology three months too late.

but then he thinks about the what-ifs. what if you’re waiting for him to reach out? what if you’re lying in bed right now, staring at your phone, wondering why he never called?

he can’t take it anymore.

the weight of missing you presses down on his chest, suffocating and relentless, until it pushes him off his chair and out the door before he can even think twice. it’s reckless, stupid—but so is love, isn’t it?

the streets are quiet at this hour, the hum of the city softened under the cloak of night. his hands are shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold, but none of it matters. all he can focus on is you. the thought of you, maybe asleep, maybe curled up in bed with your phone just out of reach. maybe dreaming of something—someone—that isn’t him.

the thought twists like a knife in his gut.

he walks with purpose, even though every step is a silent war between hope and dread. what if you don’t open the door? what if you tell him to leave? what if someone else is there?

he shakes the thought away.

it’s been three months, but it feels like no time has passed at all. and yet, it feels like forever.

before he knows it, he’s standing outside your apartment building, staring up at your window. the soft glow of light seeps through the curtains, and he wonders if you’re still awake or if you’ve just fallen asleep with the lamp on, the way you used to when reading late into the night.

his heart pounds so loudly he’s sure it’ll wake the whole block, but still, he climbs the stairs. each step echoes in the silence, a quiet reminder that there’s still time to turn back. but he doesn’t. he can’t.

and suddenly, he’s there. in front of your door. it’s familiar and foreign all at once.

he doesn’t have a plan. he doesn’t even know what he’s going to say. all he knows is that the thought of another night without you is unbearable.

he raises his hand to knock but hesitates. his breath is shallow, his pulse erratic.

but then, before he can stop himself, his knuckles rap gently against the door.

seconds pass. each one heavier than the last.

then, the faint sound of footsteps. the quiet click of the lock.

the door opens, and there you are.

soft, bleary-eyed, wrapped in a blanket, and so heartbreakingly familiar that it steals the breath from his lungs.

“sukuna?” your voice is quiet, confused, and laced with something that might be disbelief.

he swallows hard, the weight of the past three months pressing down on him all at once. “i know it’s late,” he says, voice rough and barely above a whisper. “i know i shouldn’t be here. but… i couldn’t stay away.”

you blink at him, and for a moment, there’s only silence. then, softly, “why now?”

his throat tightens, and he runs a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. “because i’m tired,” he says, voice cracking under the weight of everything he’s held back. “tired of trying to forget you. tired of pretending i’m okay. i’ve tried. god, i’ve tried. but i can’t. i miss you.”

his voice cracks at the end, and he hates how raw he sounds. how vulnerable. but it’s the truth. And right now, that’s all he has left to offer.

he sees the flicker of emotion in your eyes—the conflict, the hurt, the love you’ve tried to bury—and it guts him.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, voice thick with regret. “i’m sorry for not being enough. for not being what you deserved. i know I fucked up. i know i wasn’t always what you needed me to be.”

his hands tremble as he clenches them into fists at his sides. “but i swear… i’ll do better. i will. i promise you.”

his voice is raw now, barely more than a whisper. “just… tell me it’s not too late.”

you stare at him, eyes glossy, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something softer. and then, finally, you step back just enough to let him in.

and for the first time in three months, sukuna breathes.

[bunji-enthusiast]

𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 (𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥?)

Sypnosis [You go out to scavenge for food, basically.]

Characters [Poppy, Doey The Doughman.]

Note || it be rough down in Playtime Co fr, also the potential for the fluff is unmatched. Like, trying to vy for some light and hope, despite the horrors that await us at every turn in the factory. Raghh— also I’m posting another one after this, I wrote both of this and the other in tandem.

The factory was a maze of forgotten memories and rusted machinery, its shadows deeper and darker than most could ever imagine. Yet, amidst all the chaos, there was still a flicker of hope for survival. You were tough, yes—no stranger to hard labor and hardship—but survival in the backrooms of Playtime Co. required something more. Food, for one.

The small toys in the safe haven, especially Doey, needed sustenance, and even though they were small, they weren't any less deserving of food than you. Poppy, Kissy, and the others—tough as the journey was, you couldn’t ignore their needs. It was your responsibility.

But before you could set out, you found yourself in the worn, cold hall of the safe haven, where Poppy sat with a gentle but questioning look. Her eyes, despite their haunting bloodshot hue, carried something soft, something almost maternal. Her porcelain face, cracked as it was, held the same delicate, thoughtful expression you had come to expect.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Poppy spoke, her voice light and almost melodic. It had a faint echo, as if the walls themselves remembered her long-forgotten commercial days. “You’re going out to scavenge, aren’t you?”

You nodded, giving her a small grin. “I’ll bring back something for you too, Poppy. Don’t worry.”

Poppy’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of concern passing over her features. “You should be careful out there, you know. The factory's a dangerous place. Even for someone like you.”

“I’m tougher than I look, Poppy,” you reassured her, though there was a hint of apprehension in your voice. No matter how tough you were, the factory still held secrets, and not all of them were willing to let you go free.

Poppy looked down, her fingers twisting the ribbons in her red hair as if caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice had lost some of its previous cheerfulness, replaced by something deeper, something weary. “You have to understand… It’s not just food that’s at stake, you know.”

Your brow furrowed, confused at first. “What do you mean? The food—”

“I’m talking about the Prototype,” she said quietly, almost as if the mere mention of it weighed heavily on her. “If you go out there, be careful. He’s always watching, even when you don’t see him. The food… it’s just the beginning. Things could get much worse, much faster. You’re already in too deep, aren’t you?”

Her words gave you pause. Despite the factory's twisted games and horrors, the Prototype loomed over everything, a constant shadow.

“I know,” you sighed, “but we’re not getting out of here without doing something. The others—Doey, Kissy, and even you—need to be taken care of. And if that means I have to risk it, then so be it. I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?”

Poppy smiled faintly, her porcelain lips curling ever so slightly. “You’ve survived, yes. But maybe… maybe you don’t have to do it alone. I know I can’t leave, not with everything that’s happened. But we can’t let him win. We can’t let him keep us here.”

You gave her a reassuring nod, feeling the weight of the factory’s twisted past pressing down on you both. “I won’t let him win, Poppy. I’ll be back. Promise.”

She stood up slowly, her delicate porcelain limbs moving with an elegance that belied the danger lurking just outside the safe haven. “Be careful. And if you can find anything more than food… anything that could help us escape, don’t hesitate to bring it back. We all deserve that much.”

As you turned to leave, Poppy’s soft voice called out to you one last time. “Don’t get lost, okay? The factory is full of distractions, and not all of them are friendly.”

You smiled at her words, a small flicker of warmth in your chest. “I’ll be fine. Just stay safe, alright?”

With that, you stepped into the darkened halls, your mind focused on the task ahead. The air was thick with the scent of rust and decay, but your resolve was firm. You had a job to do. Not just for yourself, but for those who had no way of scavenging for themselves. And you couldn’t let them down. Not after everything that had happened.

The factory's mechanical heart seemed to pulse around you, but you kept moving forward, determined to find something—anything—that would give you all a chance at survival.

The factory was a place of eerie silence now, broken only by the occasional echo of footsteps. It had once been a bustling factory, filled with the sounds of laughter and the buzz of mechanical parts working in harmony. Now, it was a place of fear, of shadows lurking in every corner, and of memories that clung to the walls like ghosts. As a former employee, you had seen things here that no one should have ever witnessed. Yet, amidst the horror, there were still those who needed you. The small toys that had found sanctuary in this forsaken place — Doey, Poppy, Kissy, and others — were relying on you.

Food. The thought lingered in your mind like a simple but necessary task, a reminder of how even in a world so broken, survival still required basic needs. You had made your way through the depths of the factory once before, and though the dangers were still there, they didn’t faze you the way they used to. You were tough, resilient — your body honed for the challenges this factory threw at you. But even you couldn’t fight the gnawing emptiness in your stomach. And it wasn’t just for you. Doey, the ever-caring doughman, had proven himself to be a true companion. And Poppy... Poppy had become something more than just another toy. She had become someone you could rely on. Kissy, too, though she was quieter, always watching from the shadows, had her own way of offering help.

You knew where to go. The factory had its secrets — areas tucked away behind locked doors, hidden alleys between forgotten rooms where remnants of old supplies might still be found. The storage areas and old kitchens, once a part of the bustling workforce's meals, were now just echoes of the past. But perhaps, with a little luck, you could scavenge something to bring back. It was risky. The factory had changed since the disaster. The toys that once greeted customers with joy and laughter had become twisted, warped by the Prototype's influence. Yet, there were still pockets of safety — places where the light still flickered faintly.

You moved quickly, but cautiously, your eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The factory’s labyrinthine corridors seemed to stretch forever, each turn filled with uncertainty. You had a destination in mind, but that didn't make the journey any less perilous. The faint sound of machinery echoed from far off, and the distant scraping of claws against metal made your pulse race for a moment. But you pushed forward. There was no turning back now.

As you reached the old kitchen, memories of its former use haunted you. It had been a place of warmth once, where the workers would gather, a place of respite. Now, the shelves were bare, save for the scattered remnants of broken toys and discarded wrappers. A few boxes remained — their labels faded and worn, but their contents still promising. You pried open a few, finding only scraps of half-eaten meals and stale bread. Not much, but it would have to do.

You moved through the dark corridors, the boxes tucked under your arm, and it wasn’t long before you spotted a small, familiar figure in the distance. Doey. His doughy body shuffled forward with surprising agility, a small bundle of food in his hands.

"I thought I might find you here," he said, his voice soft but warm. "Food’s scarce, but we’ve got a few things hidden away. Thought you might need some."

"Anything helps," you replied, grateful. "What about the others? Poppy? Kissy?"

Doey smiled, his form stretching slightly as he thought. "Kissy's still laying low. She’s... been through a lot. And Poppy’s keeping an eye on things, making sure the others are safe. But they're hungry. We all are."

You handed Doey a few of the boxes you had scavenged. "We’ll make do," you said, though the truth was, the food would hardly be enough to sustain the group for long. But it was better than nothing.

“Poppy will be thrilled,” Doey continued, his voice quieter now. “We’ve all been struggling to get by, and every little bit helps. You know, it’s funny… in a place like this, food doesn’t just fill your stomach. It reminds us of a simpler time, a time when we didn’t have to worry about every little thing, when we were just toys living for fun and play.”

You nodded, understanding the gravity behind his words. While Doey often kept things light, he had his moments of deep thought, moments when the weight of what had happened here truly sank in. He didn’t often talk about the past, but you knew from what little he'd shared that he was one of the few who still remembered the humanity behind the toys—the lives they once lived. That empathy he showed for the other toys, even those whose humanity had long been erased by the Prototype’s cruel machinations, was something you admired about him.

“I know Poppy wants to put an end to all of this," Doey continued, his voice soft but serious now, the usual joviality replaced by a more reflective tone. "But I think... I think there's something worth saving here. Even after everything that's happened, these toys—like us—are still capable of so much more than what the factory intended. I believe that. Even if some others can’t see it.”

The words struck you in a way you didn’t expect. You had always known that Doey, despite his playful exterior, had a more complex side—a side that had always tried to balance the need for action with the need for understanding. While Poppy, the other leader of the Safe Haven, was adamant about destroying the factory and moving on, Doey had a different perspective. He wanted to understand, to find a way to preserve what remained of the toys' essence, to protect them.

"You really think there's a chance?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Doey nodded, though his expression remained neutral. "I do. Not all of us are beyond saving. We just need the right push. Poppy may want to destroy everything, but… I can’t just give up on them. I can’t give up on us."

There was a certain sadness behind his words, a sadness that only surfaced when Doey was truly vulnerable, when the weight of responsibility took a hold of him. But it was that very vulnerability that made him such a powerful leader—because it made him relatable. He understood loss, struggle, and hope, and he knew that sometimes, saving someone wasn’t about destroying everything around them. It was about offering them a chance at redemption, even in the most hopeless of circumstances.

"You know, Doey," you said, your voice steady, "You're not alone in this. Poppy and the others may not always see eye to eye with you, but… I think you’re right. We can’t just abandon the idea that there’s good left in these toys."

His smile returned, albeit more subdued this time. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

Just then, you both heard the distant sound of footsteps echoing through the factory—another sign that the factory wasn’t as empty as it seemed. You both turned your heads, ready for whatever came next. But for now, in this brief, quiet moment between you and Doey, there was a sense of peace—a fleeting sense of hope amidst the ruins.

"Come on," Doey said, his playful tone back. "Let’s get this food back to the Safe Haven before anyone else starts getting ideas. They won’t be disappointed."

The two of you walked back toward the Safe Haven, the only place where any semblance of safety remained in this factory of horrors. As you passed through the corridors, the shadows seemed to shift. The factory had a way of making you feel watched, as if every creaking floorboard or distant thud was a reminder that the nightmare was never truly gone. You quickened your pace, eager to return to the others.

When you reached the Safe Haven, the sight of the familiar, fortified walls provided some comfort. Inside, the toys were scattered in various corners, huddled in their own small groups. The warmth of their presence was palpable, even if they were all, in their own way, broken by what they had endured. Doey moved to the corner, setting down the food he had gathered, and you followed, your eyes searching for Poppy.

She was standing near something—you couldn’t make out what, her porcelain face calm but her eyes searching the dark expanse beyond. As you approached, she turned to you, her usual cheer absent but replaced by something more serious.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, her voice soft yet filled with hope.

"Not much," you replied, holding up the food you had gathered. "But it's enough for now."

Poppy nodded, her lips curling into a small, appreciative smile. "We’ll make it work. We always do."

It was a rare moment of peace, fleeting though it was. You had been through so much together — the horrors of the factory, the twisted games and monstrous toys that had haunted your every step. But here, in this small corner of the factory, you had found something like family. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had.

And as you sat down with the others, sharing what little food there was, you couldn’t help but feel that, for all the darkness, there was still something worth fighting for.

[floweringlee]

Sweetest Win

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Baker YouTuber! Reader

Summary: You’re a baker youtuber who does vlogs on the side your friend convinces you to come to the paddock

Warnings: not proof read

Notes: First smau!! Hope you guys enjoy! Requests are open and comment or reblog if you liked it :D

Yourusername posted!

Liked by Yourfriend, Rosannapansino, and 15,728 more

Yourusername last cooking video before we go on vlog break! I’m so glad to say we’ll be on some new adventures this year! 🏁

yourfriend this is going to be so fun💕

user72 the checkered flag???

throughgoeshamilton are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?

f1fan my worlds are colliding

candyman mother is mothering

user12 oh to be fed by y/n

user199 why’s this so real?

Yourusername posted!

Liked by Yourfriend, Maxverstappen1, and 45,383 others

Yourusername Made it to the paddock? I brought some snacks for the drivers (not quite sure if they can eat them though)

user26 SHES IN BELGIUM SHES IN BELGIUM

yourfriend The muffins were great!

yourusername you ate like half of them😕

yourfriend they were, good what can I say?

user83 Arianna what are you doing here? (max)

user44 ohhhh he lurkin

user12 I smell love

user44 go back to bed grandma

user27 I want those muffins so bad🤤

Danielricciardo Can you make me more muffins?

yourusername of course Danny✨

Danielricciardo yay! 😊

Maxverstappen1 posted to their story!

Text messages!

Yourusername posted!

Liked by Maxverstappen1, Danielricciardo, Yourfriend and 45,383 others Yourusername Last night in Belgium 🥂

user83 IS THAT MAX VERSTAPPEN I SEE!?!?!

user 12 nurse shes out again

user83 CAN YOU LET ME DREAM?

Danielricciardo I need an arm like that

user65 he’s so messy😭

user82 it’s the instigation for me

yourfriend didnt even take me along how rude

landonoriss ill take you

yourfriend 👀

user1 WHAT.

user03 SO WE'RE JUST GOING TO IGNORE THIS???

f1fan max still lurking in those likes i see

user76 ikr

Maxverstappen1 posted!

Liked by Yourusername, Landonorris, redbullracing, and 83,793 others

Maxverstappen1 It's good to be back in my hometown

user83 I CANT be the only one seeing it

user11 please go take your pills

danielricciardo the sneak in second picture

user44 WHAT IM SAYIN

user67 not Daniel throwing Max under the bus 😭😭😭

user8 welcome back max!!

user93 he looks so fine in that first pic

Danielricciardo hey I know that hand!

user74 DANNY PLEASE💀💀💀

user37 IM ACTUALLY CRYING

Yourusername posted on their story!

Twitter!

user83 i could almost be surprised

happytail it looks like hes bagged a baddie i fear

mollytwin that shouldve been me

parkedcar well theres always charles

user02 who even is she bruh

maxineupd probably that y/n girl

Yourusername posted!

Liked by Maxverstappen1, Yourfriend, Danielricciardo, and 56,248 others

Yourusername It's nice to have someone else to the baking for once <3

user78 the soft launching from these two

user43 pov half the grid is in the likes

maxverstappen1 baking isn't as easy as you make it look

yourusername well i could have told you that

maxverstappen1 teach me again sometime?

yourusername of course <3

user83 MY PARENTS

user12 not her making him do things for her

user67 please go touch some grass

Maxverstappen1 posted!

Liked by Yourusername, Redbullracing, fia.official, and 947,048 others

Maxverstappen1 Sweetest home race win thanks to my lucky charm

yourusername congrats lieverd, im so proud of you ❤️❤️

maxverstappen1 couldnt have done it without you knapperd

user02 them calling each other dutch endearments is my new roman empire

Danielricciardo congrats love birds 🥳

user83 AND THEY ALL SAID I WAS CRAZY

user12 and you still are (just happen to be correct)

yourfriend you better treat her right Verstappen

maxverstappen1 🫡

Yourusername posted!

Liked by Yourfriend, Maxverstappen1, Landonorris, and 857,923 others

Yourusername i guess things are sweeter with you

maxverstappen1 nothing can be as sweet as you liefde

yourusername 🥰

landonorris @.yourfriend are you going to make me sweets too?

yourfriend keep dreaming Norris 🙄

user01 are we seriously just going to keep glazing over this??

user33 to be her right now

user56 oh to be her right now

Danielricciardo I’m invited to the double dates right?

yourusername of course Danny, can’t forget our wingman

user93 the way he’d been hinting since the beginning

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Sail Away

Summary: Another nightmare leaves Javi wide awake, forced to wrestle with the consequences of his past as he looks towards his future

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Heavyyyyy on the angst, PTSD, references to violence/death (from Narcos), panic attack and descriptions of past panic attacks, insomnia, feelings of guilt/shame, mentions of pregnancy/parenthood, comfort, still a happy (enough) ending, post DEA Javi, poor Javi just really needs a hug :(

A/N: We're tryin new things here people!! Fair warning- I feel like this is DRASTICALLY different from the way I normally write (content and style wise) but big sad time, pre-period hormones said it's time to cry 🤷🏼‍♀️ I think a lot about how post-DEA Javi handles thinking about his time in Colombia, and how hard it is for him to talk about, even with the people he knows care about him the most ☹️ I hope this doesn't beat you to death with metaphors, imagery and lack of beta'ing (I can still hear my AP lit teacher screaming SYMBOLISM into the abyss) Trying to emulate a lil @jolapeno on this one (ily my descriptive queen 👑)

It happened again. 

You instantly knew from the stark cold of his side of the bed, the empty void where his broad frame should be, his sheets twisted and tangled from where he had fought another round with sleep and lost. 

3rd night in a row, the 5th time this week. At this point, it was hard not to keep track. 

The cyclical pattern of restless nights, haunted by ghosts of his past that taunted and teased him, cruelly lurking the back of his mind, no matter how hard he begged or pleaded for them to disappear. 

Forcing himself to wrestle with his demons in the darkness couldn’t help but feel like insult to injury- the harsh blacks and blues that flooded the sky, drowning out the last glimmer of sunlight as it dipped below the horizon, perfectly mirroring the way his mind so devilishly seemed to paint his thoughts in shades of ebony and cerulean with erratic, angry brushstrokes over the warm yellows and oranges of his new life he had finally learned to embrace. 

It only seemed fair that he went to battle with the darkest musings of his mind under the night sky that so cruelly reflected his mood. 

You weren’t surprised the first time you found him hunched on the back steps of your porch, head buried in his hands, fingers twitching for a cigarette- the vice he’d sworn to give up after his final return home, a vow that moments like these had made him distinctly regret. You always wondered how despite the stark silence that surrounded him as he stared off into the dark abyss, you could still hear his thoughts screaming at you- crying out for attention, acknowledgement, anything to get someone else to understand what he was hiding inside of his mind that he was too scared to say out loud. 

His midnight disappearances came in waves, fading and reappearing like an unpredictable ocean tide that left you wondering when the cool and salty water would crash around your ankles next as you stood at the edge of the shore. 

For a while, the seas had been calm, Javi’s body nestled next to yours, his warmth comforting and covering you along with the messy piles of blankets and bedsheets that filled your mattress, the nights being nothing more than drifting to sleep in each other’s arms, haunted dreams harbored at bay. 

For the last 5 nights, the tides had shifted. A storm was raging. 

The first few nights you let him go- you’d watched him weather this kind of storm before, always insisting it was a journey he was supposed to go on alone, the type of trip you need to make without risking hurting the innocent passengers that were supposed to ride with you. 

But as the days came and went, golden rays of vibrant sun shifting to dark and lonely blackness, it felt like you were leaving him out in the abyss without even so much as a life vest, praying for a return you knew would never come unless someone weathered the storm to save him. 

“You’re up again.” 

It’s a neutral statement, enough to disarm him from the implications you’ve sent yourself on a rescue mission to find him while you settle next to his stoic frame sinking into the porch step. 

“And you shouldn’t be.” 

Not quite resistance, but certainly not acceptance to you let you come aboard with him. Not yet. 

“I was already up anyway. Someone has been a big fan of punching me in my gut at 2 A.M. Hard not to notice when I wake up and your side of the bed is empty for the 5th time this week.” 

Both your eyes shift down to the subtle swell of your stomach, barley poking out from under the worn t-shirt you’d stolen from his dresser drawer. You’d never really had a knack for thievery until the past few weeks, claiming that everything was too tight for your growing belly. Despite all his years intertwined with the law, Javi had never had a problem with pardoning you for your violation, happy to let you, his household thief, and your new partner in crime indulge in the habit if it brought you any sort of comfort in your constant uncomfortability of growing a new life inside you. 

“Already picking up on her dad’s shit sleeping habit.” He scoffs under his breath, a bitterness in his tone that he thinks he’s somehow managing to inflict years worth of poor choices on his future child, still months away from even making her arrival into the world. 

It hurts, watching the pain well in his eyes as he stares off at the stars, glistening in the distance like some sort of unreachable sanctuary, the savior of a temporary distraction. Right now, you wish he’d look at you the same way, but he knows you won’t let him wallow in the all consuming waves of his own self pity like the stars will. 

A silent journey to outer space is the easy way out. You aren’t. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask it like it’s a question, like he has a choice in the matter. He knows that you’ll be gentle with him- you have been since the moment you met him- but Christ, he also knows you’re nothing, if not persistent, too. 

He sighs, accepting his defeat as his gaze drops from the sky down to the ground, cautiously allowing you to climb aboard with him. 

It’s like trying to approach a wounded wild animal- move too fast and you’ll scare him away, leaving him to writhe in even more pain as he tries to flee from you. Move too slow and you leave him to bleed out, alone and afraid. 

“I’m fine.” It’s almost humorous how blatant of a lie it is, immediately putting himself on the defensive, like he has any ground to stand on with his claim. 

You say nothing, your silence enough to intrigue him as his eyes finally meet yours, the look on his face revealing the truth his words wouldn’t. You try your best to remain neutral, but Javi knows the sadness slowly slipping through your expression, the one you’re trying your best to hide because you’re not the one that’s hurting. Yet, there’s something about seeing you hurt because of him that’s enough to chip away at the wall he’s put up between you two, finally allowing you a crack just wide enough to let you see through to the other side. 

“I- I keep having the same dream. Every night, it’s the same.” He says “dream” like he’s letting himself drift off to sleep to all the pleasantries the world has to offer him, waking up to his midnight thoughts refreshed and renewed. Because his dreams aren’t just dreams, his dreams are the most terrifying nightmares the majority people wouldn’t even be capable of imagining, a violent parade of the worst memories his brain can muster.  

“What dream?” You ask, as carefully and cautiously as the way you shift yourself closer to him. 

“I- It’s- I just- Fuck-” 

It’s then you choose to gamble, wagering that he’s let you in enough, your next move won’t startle him, inching yourself closer as your right hand begins to intertwine with his left. He’s resistant at first, but as the familiar warmth of your body grazes across his skin, he begins to let you in, allowing your fingers to gently tangle, anchoring himself in your grasp. 

“It’s okay, Javi. I’m here. You can tell me.” 

It’s then the bets become less of a reckless gamble, squeezing him just a little tighter, stroking his skin with your thumb and feeling him squeeze back, taking your hand and finally letting you start to lift him out of the eye of the storm. 

He still needs the reassurance you won’t leave, that the man his nightmares make him won’t scare you away like they have so many others. An insecurity that distresses him enough to make him ache, despite your compassion. 

You’re not gonna scare me away, Javi.

The words still ring in the back of his head when he finds himself like this, remembering the first time you found him on the living room floor of your apartment at 3 A.M., skin tacky and covered in sweat, heart beating so fast he was convinced he was dying, terrified of his mind, and even more terrified you would leave him, letting you find him exposed, like some sort of disgusting, open wound. 

He’ll never understand why you showed him so much mercy. In no lifetime will he ever be able to thank you enough that you did. 

It still doesn’t make what comes next any easier. 

“I just stood there. I just let him- I just let him do it. He was just a fucking kid.” 

You can practically hear both your hearts break over the stark silence. Javi’s, because of all the things he’s done, this is the one he’ll never forgive himself for. Yours, for the same reason. 

“Javi…” 

“I didn’t even try to stop him. He was just a kid. We just- we just fucking left him there. What kind of person does that? I- I spent so long trying to convince myself, trying to- fuck- trying to justify it was okay. That casualties happen when you’re trying to catch a fuckin’ monster. But what if- what if none of it fucking mattered because I was the one who was really the monster.” 

It was flowing out of him now, a flash flood crashing through the rest of the brick wall he had built up to defend himself. You can feel him trying to pull his hand away, trying to keep you from getting swept away in the current with him, but it only makes you double down harder. 

“You’re not a monster, Javi. What happened back then, it- it did matter. I know it hurts, but it doesn't make you a monster.” 

It’s not his admittance of guilt that breaks him- it’s your forgiveness. 

He wonders how can stand him, let alone love him. How his past hasn’t left him tainted and useless, like some sort of lame animal with a limp that can’t be cured, its only options left to die or be sent out to pasture, too weak to venture back for help. That you were the only one who wanted to help fix the parts of himself that were the most broken and mangled. That you were the only one who gave him a chance to be healed instead of leaving him for dead. 

When his eyes meet your stomach is when the guilt begins to morph into terror. Because years ago, a mother, just like you, was nestled away in the haphazard rows of colorful buildings that lined the streets of Medellín, carrying her unborn son, dreaming about the life she would plan for him. 

Javi knows that nowhere in those plans did she account for the pain and heartbreak she would suffer as some asshole DEA agent watched her son’s body become one with the earth while he took a bullet to the brain.  

How was he supposed to live with himself when he got a chance to play God- that now, after letting a life disappear, he was allowed to have a hand in creating a new one? 

You watch the gears in his brain churn, yearning for an explanation to the unexplainable puzzle he’ll never be able to solve, even though he’s convinced he can. His brain works in logic and reasoning, only making the emotional torment of his past decisions more confusing for him. The same kind of logic that you’re not sure will ever allow him to forgive himself. 

“How am I supposed to be a dad? How are you ever gonna trust me? How am I supposed to keep her safe when I’ve done so many terrible fucking things?” Tears begin to flow down his cheeks, each word more ragged and shaky than the last until he can’t fight it any more. 

It feels like the entire weight of the world collapsing into your lap as he melts into you, so heavy that there’s nothing that you can do but wrap your arms around him at let him cry and soak the battered fabric of the his stolen t-shirt draped over your top, fisting at the frayed hems. 

He can’t pretend anymore, not after he’s shown you all the cards he’s had to lay out on the table. There’s no more facade, no more attempt at a stubborn masquerade to hide his hurt. He’s finally let you climb aboard his ship and take the wheel, trusting that you’ll guide him home to shore where he belongs. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

The way he repeats it, chanting it like a broken prayer, begging for your forgiveness makes you ache. You’ve forgiven him for the sins of his past long ago, yet he still feels the need to plead to you for redemption. You wish there was a way to take it from him, to let him unburden himself from the shame he’s carried for so long and carry it for him, even if just for a little while. To let him see what you see in him, to know that you love him for all of his past, and not just in spite of it. To let him know that the storm he has to weather is a storm you will never let him weather alone. But for now, three words are the best you can do. 

“I love you. I love you, Javi.” 

And you do. You mean it. With every bone in your body, with every fiber of your being, you mean it. And right now, he may not admit it, but he knows you do, too. Those three words are enough to let him see the shoreline approaching in the distance, to see the light of day beginning to peek its way through the cracks of the night sky, to carry him back home to you. 

He says it with his silence, the way his sobs start to slow, replaced with long inhales and exhales, his chest rising and falling against you. He says it with the way he holds you just a little tighter, hand splaying across the swell of your stomach, muttering a promise to himself just loud enough for you to hear. 

“I promise I’ll protect you. Both of you. If it’s the last thing I do.” 

“I know you will. I will, too. I promise.” 

The promise is the last gentle wave that pushes you back to the part of the beach where tides roll gently, forgetting the raging currents they once were in the middle of the ocean. A place where you can safely row your boat ashore without the fear of another dreadful thought creeping up on you and dragging you back out to face torment again. 

As you look out in front of you, the sky is no longer laden with heavy shades of black- a pastel sunrise is beginning to creep over the horizon, glistening like some sort of trophy for an underdog fistfight you’d managed to win, even if you’d come out the other side beaten and bruised. It was enough to nudge Javi’s head out of your lap, encouraging him to accept his prize at a game where winners came few and far between. 

Tonight, you'd never been more thankful the universe had let Javi come up a winner.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been up early enough to watch the sunrise.” 

“Yeah. It is pretty, isn’t it? Sorry this is the reason you get to see it.” 

“As long as I get to be with you, that reason will always be good enough.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[scudslut]

ahhh yes yes, I haven’t written him too subby on here yet so I was super excited to write this❤️ I hope you like it @darylsgirl23 <3

Heartsease

Daryl x f!reader

Setting: Bridge Camp/Post Savior War

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+, softdom reader, unestablished relationship (but both know there’s a little somethin somethin iykwim), aka your his and everyone knows it, oral (m - receiving), unprotected piv, premature finish

Daryl was never one to keep still.

It made him anxious to be in one place for too long, always going on runs and patrols ensuring his people were as safe and provided for as they could be. He felt at ease outside the walls, out of people's prying gazes, and left alone to do his part for the community in peace. These days though, he was a flurry of activity. Hardly ever in the same spot long enough to see the sun rise and set again.

You knew he felt guilty - that he was angry and didn't know how to release it. You'd watch him work on the bridge for hours, frustration seeping out of his bones and into the atmosphere around him. It hung off him like a phantom.

The vast majority of the community was intimidated by it. They would walk on eggshells in his presence as if they could predict an oncoming outburst. But you knew better, you knew him.

He was angry at the world, yes. But he was distraught with himself... his own mind. It ran a mile a minute and gave absolutely zero reprieve. Anyone could see that if they dug just a bit deeper, looked at him a little closer.

Sure he was strong and burly; a true beast of a man, but he was also quiet and thoughtful. He cared so deeply about others that it frightened him to his core. All he wanted was to protect his family and do right by them.

And you saw all of that.

You had for years now and it only made your desire for him stronger. You wanted to thank him. Drop down to your knees and worship every freckle and scar that made him, him. He deserved it, deserved an escape.

Initially, you thought maybe he wasn't into that and preferred to keep his relationships asexual, to which you were perfectly happy to abide by. Any time spent with him was cherished time in your eyes. But during a sleep-deprived chat with Carol one night on patrol, long ago, you had found out he did have a few sexual encounters before the apocalypse. Just none that had truly meant much to him, or that he was entirely sober for.

That small bit of insight helped you understand the man so much more and you carefully dropped your hints from that point on. However, with your luck, every time you thought something might happen between you two, the moment would slip right through your aching fingers, dusted away by whatever imminent danger lurked behind each corner.

To be quite honest, you were getting fed up with the world's continuous cruel jokes, and from the looks of things, Daryl could use a healthy distraction right about now.

Ears perking at the familiar rumble you'd grown to love, you watched as he pulled up on his trusty, beaten-up Nighthawk, finally returning from a longer visit at Hilltop. You could see the sheen layer of sweat built up above his furrowed brows, his teeth nibbling away at his lower lip - an anxious habit you had picked up on mere days after meeting him.

His mind was bothering him. That much was clear.

He shuffled quickly to his tent, gaze transfixed on the muddy shoes he wore, avoiding any onlookers who wanted to ask their silly questions, throwing the flaps open, and disappearing in a fluster.

You knew better than to bother him now, give him some time to gather his thoughts and decompress. You whittled away at your spears, biding the time as you devised a plan on how you would approach him. After all, the last thing you wanted was to scare him off or embarrass him in any way. He was reserved when it came to these situations, unsure of himself. The few times you had brushed lips or touched him a bit heatedly, he was jumpy and almost insecure, as if he needed instructions on how he should behave. It was extremely endearing to you; like a stray pup who just needed a little reassurance and affection to calm his fierce walls of doubt.

It was almost dusk when you finished with your spears, gathering them up and placing them near some of the other weapons the community used when needed. You scanned the grounds, noticing everyone collected by the fire, dishing up for a late dinner. You quickly made your way over, grabbing two portions and slipping away before you were noticed and stopped for conversation. You knew Daryl wouldn't get one for himself, spew some excuse that 'he wasn't hungry' or was 'too tired' when really, he just didn't want to take away from another. Even if that meant he didn't eat or drink anything for days at a time. It made your heart blister for more reasons than one.

You balance both plates on your left arm, reaching to pull the flaps open slowly, not wanting to startle him with your arrival, "Dar? You asleep?" you whisper into the dim den.

You hear a grunt, some shuffling, and in a moment a soft glow fills the area as he lights a nearby lamp, perching up on his small cot, "I was."

Flicking off your boots, you zip the entrance closed behind you, "I brought you some dinner, figured you'd be hungry after your trip," You smile and he mutters a quiet thanks, opting to accept your kind offer rather than argue with you, he knew you wouldn't take no for answer anyway. He scoots to the side, creating a spot for you to sit while you two eat in comfortable silence. He liked that you didn't feel the need to fill the air, that you could simply enjoy each other's company without all the small talk. You were one of the few people he'd met in his life, who just inherently understood him, down to the most basic level. He hated leaving you all the time like he had been, just another thing to nag at his over-exhausted mind.

Hearing him sigh quietly, you cast your eyes over, watching as he scrapes up the remaining crumbs off his plate, placing it outside the tent along with yours for you both to deal with in the morning.

"I imagine your pretty tired, huh?" You ask, following his movements as he plops down again beside you.

"Nah, not really. Got a few hours 'fore ya came bustin' in here," he grumbles with a small smirk and you lean into him nudging his shoulder playfully. "Why ya wanna chat or somethin'?"

You consider him for a minute, trying to find the proper words to initiate what was truly on your mind. You knew you had no reason to be nervous. That even though you'd never labeled anything between you guys, you both felt it. Knew it was there. You just needed the right moment. Now was as good a time as any, you figured.

"No, I just- I wanna try something."

He nods his head for you to continue, so you scoot closer, placing your hand delicately on his shoulder and bringing your face centimeters from his. You stop just before you close the gap, gauging his reaction. His breath hitches slightly and you feel his pulse rapid under your fingertips, but he doesn't pull away. Taking that as the only confirmation you'll get, you press your lips to his softly, brushing your thumb against his stubbly, pink cheek. He takes a good minute to respond, carefully moving his lips back against yours and placing his hands on your hips. You feel him squeeze, eliciting a quiet moan of encouragement from you and he all but sinks into your touch, falling into a comfortable rhythm with your lips. You stay like that for a while, breathing in his piney scent and relishing in his gentle kneads at your waist. It wasn’t much to the untrained eye, but you knew that was his way of pouring his affection into you without so many words. His way of telling you he was yours.

You drag your kisses down his neck, nibbling and sucking at the salty flesh between his collarbones. His breaths grow uneven and you can feel him begin to tense again, unused to such personal attention, "Is this okay?" You ask, not wanting to push him past his boundaries. He only nods in response, his throat feeling like the Sahara.

He has to admit, he's thought about this many times, relieved himself to thoughts of you too many times to count over the years. He's just never known how to approach you about it, scared you'd reject him or he'd do something wrong.

He watches as you slip to your knees before him, your eyes glued to his. "You'll let me know if you want me to stop, yeah?" As he tries to nod in response again, you stop him, "I need you to say it to me," You press.

"Y-yea, I'll say somethin'," he whispers timidly and you grin, beginning to unbuckle his belt and slip his raged jeans down. You kiss down his strong thighs, feeling them tremble slightly beneath you. His hard-on is poking through his boxers and you drag your lips across it, placing soft pecks down the length of him, listening to his breathy pants. You didn't realize how turned on you'd be, having him all flushed and needy for you, but god were you enjoying it. Slipping your fingers into the waistband, you tug them down and his cock springs free, precum leaking from the pretty, pink tip.

"You dun have'ta," he mutters, anxiety sweeping over him fast, even though he really, really does want to. You catch his gaze, noticing how dark his stormy eyes have gotten.

"Let me take care of you, sweetheart," you reply, pressing soft kisses from the base to tip, feeling him pulse under your touch. You enclose your mouth around him, taking almost his entire length at once and you hear a guttural groan from above you, his knuckles white from the clutch they had on the bedsheets.

You wondered if he had ever had a woman go down on him before. Judging by the gasps and twitches he was emitting, if he had, it hadn't been for a very long time.

He bucks into you, searching in a daze for more friction, and you pin his hips down, earning a deep whine from him. You knew if he wanted to, he could easily overpower you, use your mouth to his heart's content, but he wouldn't. He wanted you to take charge. Needed it.

Raking your eyes over his heaving figure, you slide your tongue along his shaft, moving in slow, sensual circles as you bob up and down. Daryl's head is tossed back, eyes screwed shut and you can tell he won't last much longer. The sensitivity of not being touched in so long, sprinting towards him at full speed. You pull back, slowing your movements. He lifts his head off the wall, pale blue eyes blown to darkness as he watches you take him so sweetly, "Please," He whispers.

When you shake your head, humming a soft, "Not yet," as best you can around him, his eyes roll back into his skull, entirely overwhelmed by the overstimulation, but loving it nonetheless. "I-I can't," He gasps, his accent muddled even stronger in his lustful state. You have to squeeze your legs tighter, clenching around nothing hearing your man so utterly wrecked beneath you. You want to draw it out for hours. Have him begging you to let him cum down your awaiting throat. However, you decide you both have waited damn long enough to prolong your union even more.

Releasing him with a soft kiss to his leaking tip, you stand in front of him, shimmying out of your clothes as quickly as you can. "Lay down for me, baby,' You direct, moving the straddle him as he eagerly follows your orders, turning lengthwise on the makeshift bed. His eyes never leave yours as you sit down on him, groaning when he feels how wet you are pressed against his cock. "Have you thought about this before, pretty boy?" His cheeks flush crimson at your sultry compliments, nodding curtly whilst avoiding your stare.

"Dar." You press.

You were being so gentle yet stern with him it was making it brain fuzzy, all stressors from the day long washed away to be replaced by only you.

"Have, yeah," He huffs in embarrassment, trying with great difficulty not to portray how truly turned on your words were making him. But you saw right through him... or rather felt him. You lean forward, kissing and nipping up his neck to the shell of his pink ears, "Do you want me to stop?"

A full-body shiver jolts through him when he feels your warm breath against his ear, involuntarily rolling his hips into yours and you chuckle at his obvious sensitivity. He knows he needs to use his words. You won't be letting him off that easy. "Please don't," Is all he manages and it seems to do the trick. You grip his length, tracing it along your soaked folds, and slowly sink down. Your careful as you take in his reaction, scanning his expression for any signs of discomfort. He bites his lip, his eyes squeezed shut and lets out a muffled groan.

"Fuck," He mumbles, and you're surprised to hear him say anything you didn't need to pry out of him. A positive sign, you determined and start to bounce your hips slowly, creating a synchronized dance between your bodies. Your body is buzzing as you ride him, finally feeling the dull ache you’ve had for the man below you begin to dissipate as he whimpers oh so softly for only you to hear. His hands grip your waist hard enough to leave bruises to find in the morning, but you hardly give it a second thought. All you can think about is Daryl. His closeness, his warmth and strength, and-

He tenses beneath you, broken gasps leaving his chewed lips and suddenly he’s lifting you off of him, soaking your thighs and abdomen completely. You gawk as you watch him come down, sworn you haven’t ever seen something so fucking sexy in your life. His head tossed back, jumbled curses leaving his mouth, and dark auburn hair dripping with sweat. You don’t care that he finished before you, this was about him. But you see his eyes snap to yours when he fully comes back down to reality, cheeks blazing for a different reason than before.

Leaning towards him, you capture his lips with your own, tenderly pouring your affection into him, needing him to know you weren’t upset, “It’s okay, relax,” you whisper against him with a soft smile, leaning your forehead onto his. His eyes are filled with guilt, “I mean it, Dar,” And he’s back to his nods of response.

He didn’t need any more words of sympathy. He knew you were happy as a kid on Christmas, he just needed to accept it for himself. So with one last peck to his cherry lips, you slide off him, grab a rag to clean yourself up with, and scoot right in beside him, craving his warmth. He turns to you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You feel a few soft pecks from him along your jaw and you sigh contentedly, wrapping your limbs around his, reeling in your post-coital glow.

You were safe, snuggled with your love, and that was all you needed.

[mintyys-blog]

sinister mark x zatanna! reader & full mask! mark x raven! reader

WARNINGS: injury, blood, fighting, kidnapping, loss of magic

A/N: this was a request but I accidentally deleted the post, btw had to nerf their powers

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

The city burned. Explosions painted the skyline in hues of fire and smoke, and the screams of the dying filled the air like a symphony of suffering. The Invincible War was in full force, and amidst the chaos, you stood your ground.

You, the lover of Mark Grayson, were no ordinary fighter. With the power of magic bending to your will, you were a force to be reckoned with. The air shimmered with your words as you uttered backward spells, striking down the invading Viltrumites who sought to tear your world apart.

But then, you felt it. A presence—a predator lurking in the battlefield, his gaze locked onto you with an unsettling hunger.

Sinister Mark.

He emerged from the smoke, his suit stained with blood, his eyes void of anything human. He looked like Mark, your Mark, but there was something twisted in his expression. Something wrong. “You’re not supposed to be here,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest.

Sinister Mark smirked, licking the blood off his knuckles. “Oh, but I am. And I’m here for you.” Your stomach twisted. You had heard about him—this psychotic version of your lover. He had torn through dimensions, slaughtered billions, and now he stood before you, utterly fixated.

“You think I don’t know you?” he continued, stalking closer, each step deliberate. “I had you once. In my world, you loved me.”

You clenched your fists, the glow of magic crackling at your fingertips. “If that were true, I wouldn’t be standing against you.”

His grin widened. “I killed you, you know. By accident. Snapped your neck too hard in the middle of a fight.” He tilted his head, watching for your reaction. “But that was a mistake. One I plan to fix.” Your pulse pounded. “You won’t touch me.”

“That’s cute.” His voice dripped with mockery, but his eyes burned with something raw. “Your little spells won’t stop me.”

You didn’t give him a chance to move. With a flick of your wrist, you spoke, your words flowing in reverse: “Erif morf nruter ot su!”

A wall of flames erupted between you, but Sinister Mark didn’t flinch. He burst through the inferno like a monster stepping out of hell, his hands reaching for you. You barely managed to teleport away in time, reappearing on top of a crumbling building. He was on you in a heartbeat. A fist came flying, and you countered with a spell: “Kcatta m’I tub, raeppa su sevol!”

His punch faltered, his body seizing for a split second as love—false, manufactured—clouded his mind. His smirk twisted, his body trembling with forced affection. Then he laughed. Low and guttural. “That’s dirty,” he admitted, shaking off the spell like it was nothing. “But I like dirty.”

Your heart pounded as he lunged again. You barely had time to shield yourself before the building gave way beneath you. The last thing you saw before falling was his eyes—obsessive, unrelenting. This wasn’t just war to him. This was personal. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had you.

You hit the ground hard, but a whispered spell softened the impact. Dust and debris filled the air, but you didn’t have time to recover—Sinister Mark was already there, descending like a meteor.

“Pots!”

Your voice rang out, and time froze around him, suspending him mid-air. He sneered, muscles twitching as he fought against the spell. His Viltrumite physiology resisted magic better than most, but he was still caught—for now.

You exhaled sharply, backing up. This wasn’t like fighting other versions of Mark. This one was a monster. Sadistic. Unrelenting. And he wanted you for himself.

“I can feel it cracking,” he taunted, his voice eerily calm as he strained against your spell. “Won’t hold me much longer.”

You needed to end this. Now.

“Llaf dna emirc otni a eloh!”

The ground beneath him shattered, opening into a bottomless void. A pocket dimension spell. If you could trap him inside, you might have a chance to regroup— But then he moved. One moment, he was suspended. The next, his body jerked violently, muscles tearing as he forced himself free. Blood spattered from his nose as he broke through your magic, lunging forward just before the void could swallow him. You barely had time to teleport. “Tropele!”

You reappeared a few feet away, but his speed was insane. His hand caught your throat, slamming you against the wreckage of a destroyed building. The air rushed from your lungs as his grip tightened. “You’re fast,” he murmured, tilting his head, examining you like prey. “Smart, too. But I’ve fought you before. And I always win.”

You gasped, struggling. Your fingers trembled as you reached for your magic. You just needed a second— He leaned in, voice dark and possessive. “You smell like her. Like mine.” Rage burned through you. You gathered all the power you had left and spat out the words: “Ezeerf!”

Ice exploded from your hands, coating his arm in a thick layer of frost. His grip faltered just enough for you to twist free, and with a fierce cry, you sent him flying with a concussive blast. He crashed through a skyscraper, but you knew it wouldn’t stop him. Nothing would. You needed Mark. Your Mark. Before you could call for him, a blur shot past you—mainstream Mark, your Mark, slamming into Sinister Mark with enough force to send shockwaves through the city.

“You okay?!” Mark called, hovering protectively in front of you. You wiped blood from your lip, glaring at Sinister Mark as he rose from the rubble, a sick grin spreading across his face.

“I am now,” you said. Mark clenched his fists. “You’re not taking her.” Sinister Mark chuckled darkly. “Oh, I am. I just have to kill you first.”

Sinister Mark moved too fast.

One second, you were preparing your next spell—magic crackling at your fingertips—ready to end this nightmare. The next, a cold blade pressed against your throat.

You barely had time to react before he sliced.

A sharp, burning pain tore through your neck. Your eyes widened, a strangled gasp escaping as blood poured from the wound. Your hands flew to your throat, fingers slick with warm crimson.

Sinister Mark leaned in, his lips at your ear. “You can’t cast spells without talking, right?”

A choked sound left you—half a gasp, half a sob—as your vision blurred. Your knees buckled, the world tilting as you collapsed.

“Y/N!”

Mark’s voice was raw with panic. A blur of blue and black shot past you, slamming into Sinister Mark with the force of a meteor. The impact sent shockwaves tearing through the city, cracking the pavement beneath you.

You barely registered it.

Your breath came in wet, ragged gasps. You pressed harder against the wound, but the blood wouldn’t stop. It spilled through your fingers, soaking the front of your costume, choking you.

You were drowning in it. Then—warm hands. Mark was suddenly there, gathering you in his arms, cradling you like you were something fragile. His eyes were wide, frantic, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

“Hey—hey, stay with me,” he pleaded, pressing his hand against your throat to stop the bleeding. His fingers trembled. “You’re gonna be okay. You have to be okay.”

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a wet, gurgling sound. Mark’s face twisted in anguish. “No, no, don’t talk—just hold on. I’ll get you help, just—” A deafening boom cut him off.

Sinister Mark came flying back, streaking across the sky before crashing into the rubble. Dust and debris exploded outward, but you barely saw it—your vision was tunneling, darkness creeping at the edges. Mark turned back to you, his hands pressing desperately against your wound. His breathing was ragged, his body shaking.

“Please,” he begged, voice cracking. “Stay with me, Y/N. I can’t— I won’t lose you.” Your body felt so heavy. The world was slipping away. And Sinister Mark was getting back up.

Your eyes fluttered open.

The ceiling above you was unfamiliar—smooth, sterile, nothing like your bedroom back home. Panic surged through you as you sat up too quickly, your head spinning from the motion.

Your hand flew to your throat, fingers trembling as they brushed against stiff bandages wrapped tightly around your skin. A deep, aching pain pulsed beneath them. Your breath hitched. You tried to speak. Nothing came out.

Your throat burned as you forced out a hoarse, broken sound—something between a whisper and a sob. The pain was excruciating.

Your vocal cords were gone. Tears blurred your vision. You clutched your throat, your breaths coming in sharp gasps, your mind reeling. You couldn’t talk. You couldn’t cast spells.

You were powerless. A slow, deliberate clap echoed from the doorway. “Oh, you’re awake.”

Your blood ran cold. Sinister Mark leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk curling at his lips. He looked completely at ease, like he hadn’t just destroyed your world, like he hadn’t just stolen your voice, your magic, your life.

You scrambled back against the headboard, hands trembling as you instinctively tried to summon a spell—anything. But without your voice, nothing happened. Nothing. Sinister Mark laughed.

“You’re still trying?” He shook his head, amused. “That’s cute.” You clenched your jaw, fists balling in helpless rage. Your body shook with the effort to do something, fight back, but all you could do was glare at him, breath shuddering.

He stepped closer, and you flinched. “Don’t worry about your Mark,” he continued, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “I made his death quick.” Your heart stopped.

The room blurred. Everything tilted. No. No, no, no— A broken, strangled sob tore from your throat, pain flaring through your body as you tried to scream, tried to deny it. Mark was gone. Your Mark was gone. And you were trapped with a monster.

The sky was torn apart. The city trembled beneath the weight of a battle that had yet to truly begin. The air crackled with unstable energy as a figure stepped through the fractured fabric of reality—Mask Mark.

Blood-stained armor, tattered Viltrumite uniform, and eyes filled with an unfathomable hunger for destruction. He had seen the one thing that kept him going, the one thing that haunted him across dimensions—her. But this version of her wasn’t the one he had lost.

She stood before him, floating above the ruined streets, wrapped in a cloak darker than the void, her eyes glowing a deep, foreboding amethyst. Shadows writhed at her feet, responding to her emotions like living extensions of her soul. This was not his love.

This was an enemy.

Behind her, the mainstream Mark—her Mark—stood ready for battle, fists clenched, jaw tight. “You don’t belong here,” he growled. “You’re not taking her.”

Mask Mark’s lips curled into a wicked grin beneath his cracked helmet. “You don’t get a choice.” And then he moved.

Faster than sound, he closed the distance, a blur of crimson and brutality. His fist swung toward her—his love, his obsession—but it met a wall of solid black energy, a barrier born from her soul itself. The impact sent shockwaves through the streets, shattering windows and splitting the pavement.

She didn’t falter. Her voice, laced with ethereal power, rang out: “Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”

Dark tendrils surged forward, wrapping around his limbs, pulling him back mid-strike. He snarled, muscles tensing as he fought against them, but these weren’t just physical restraints—they were draining him, siphoning his very essence.

“You’re not real to me,” she said coldly, her gaze unwavering. “You’re just a ghost of someone I never knew.”

Mask Mark growled in frustration before his aura flared, a burst of raw Viltrumite strength breaking him free. “I am real. And you—” He pointed at her, his voice a venomous whisper. “—you were mine once.”

Mainstream Mark shot forward, intercepting with a devastating punch to the side of his skull. Mask Mark barely moved, his head snapping back before he grinned, spitting blood. “Cute.”

In a blur, he struck back, sending mainstream Mark hurtling through three buildings.

She barely reacted. Her focus was singular, unwavering. Mask Mark turned back to her, his expression shifting from amusement to something darker. “You don’t belong with him,” he said, voice softer, almost persuasive. “You belonged with me. I lost you once. I won’t let it happen again.”

A cold wind swept through the ruined battlefield. The shadows around her pulsed, responding to the growing storm of her emotions. The weight of his obsession, his twisted grief, it disgusted her.

Her voice was steady. “You’re not taking me anywhere.” He lunged again, but this time, she was faster.

A wave of dark energy crashed into him, tendrils wrapping around his torso and dragging him into the air. His vision blurred as a crushing force gripped his mind, his very soul. It was her magic, burrowing into the depths of his being, pulling apart the fragments of his fractured reality.

He screamed—not in pain, but in rage. He fought against it, fought against her, but she was relentless. Shadows filled his vision, his mind slipping into an abyss of nothingness. And then, silence.

Mask Mark’s body hit the ground, unmoving. His breaths were ragged, his limbs twitching. The battle was over. She hovered above him, her cloak billowing in the wind. Mainstream Mark landed beside her, wiping blood from his mouth. “What did you do?”

“I trapped him in his own darkness,” she murmured. “He’ll see nothing but his past, his failures, over and over again.”

Mainstream Mark exhaled. “That’s brutal.” She finally looked at him, her expression softening. “He wasn’t going to stop.” Mark nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I know.”

The battlefield was silent, save for the crackling of unstable energy lingering in the air. Mask Mark lay on the ground, his breath ragged, his body motionless. She exhaled slowly, lowering her hands. It was done. But then— A tremor.

The shadows around her flickered unnaturally, twisting and writhing as if rejecting their hold on him. The weight of something dark, something primal, pressed into her mind. She gasped, clutching her head as a searing pain lanced through her skull. And then she felt it. His pain. His fury. His despair. It flooded through her like a raging tide—raw, overwhelming. It wasn’t just anger. It was grief, a loss so deep it had hollowed him out, leaving only this monstrous shell behind. The depth of his suffering crushed against her empathic senses, forcing her to her knees.

“Ngh—” she gritted her teeth, fingers digging into the cracked pavement. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. It was too much. The sheer force of his emotions was suffocating, a hurricane of loss, rage, and desperation.

She could barely register Mark calling her name before— A sonic boom. A fist colliding with flesh. Her eyes snapped open just in time to see Mask Mark punch mainstream Mark full force.

Her Mark was sent flying, crashing through another building, the impact sending debris flying in every direction. The shock jolted her back to reality. She gasped, struggling to her feet as Mask Mark turned toward her, his breath heavy, his pupils dilated with unrestrained obsession.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” he growled, stepping forward. His voice was rough, trembling—not with weakness, but with something else. “You felt everything I lost. Everything that was taken from me.”

Her fingers curled into fists. Her head still throbbed, her chest still ached from the weight of his emotions, but she forced herself to stand.

“That doesn’t make this right,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Mask Mark’s expression twisted. His teeth clenched. “You don’t get it.”

“You’re right,” she admitted, shadows curling around her fingertips. “I don’t. Because the man I love—he would never become you.”

His eye twitched. For a moment, just a second, there was something vulnerable beneath all that rage. Then it was gone. A storm erupted around them, her darkness clashing against his brute strength once again. The battle wasn’t over. Not yet.

The battle raged on. Mask Mark was relentless—faster, stronger, more brutal than anything she had ever faced. But she held her ground, shadows striking out in waves, reality bending at her fingertips.

She could feel his desperation fueling every attack. He wasn’t just fighting to win. He was fighting to take her. Then, something changed.

Mask Mark suddenly stopped mid-air, his expression unreadable. Before she could react, he reached into his belt and pulled out a small, blackened amulet. It pulsed with an eerie red glow, its aura thick with dark magic—magic that made her stomach twist in instinctual dread.

She barely had time to teleport away before he closed the distance, slamming it against her chest. A surge of pain shot through her body. Her powers—her very essence—burned.

She screamed as something latched onto her soul, twisting, locking, sealing. The shadows around her vanished. The weight of her magic, the connection to her abilities—gone. She collapsed, gasping, fingers clawing at the amulet. Her body felt… wrong. Hollow. Powerless. No. No, no, no— She tried to say the words. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”

Nothing happened. She looked up in horror. Mask Mark stood over her, his lips curling into a satisfied, hungry smirk.

“You’re mine now.” She gritted her teeth, still clawing at the cursed object. “You—won’t—get away with this—” A green portal flickered to life behind him, swirling with unstable energy. Her heart pounded as realization dawned.

“No,” she whispered. He grabbed her by the wrist. She thrashed, kicked, did everything in her power to break free, but without her magic, she was just—human. Her Mark recovered, shooting toward them, desperation in his eyes.

“NO!” His hand reached for hers— Too late. Mask Mark yanked her backward, and they fell into the portal. The last thing she saw before the portal closed was Mark’s outstretched hand, his face contorted in horror. Then—darkness.

When she woke, the air was wrong. It was colder, heavier, filled with an eerie silence that made her skin crawl.

Her body ached as she pushed herself up—only to freeze when she saw him. Mask Mark stood over her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His mask was gone so now she got a good look at his face. The dim light cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the dark circles under his eyes, the barely contained tension in his posture.

She gasped and scrambled back, heart pounding. Her body moved on instinct, driven by fear, but it was useless. The moment she tried to teleport away—tried to summon even the smallest flicker of power—she felt it again. The emptiness. The cursed amulet still hung from her neck, its weight suffocating.

Her stomach dropped. She was powerless. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Stay away from me!” she spat, still trying to do something, anything. But without her magic, she was just human—and he was still him. Her Mark wasn’t here to protect her.

Mask Mark crouched down, resting his forearms on his knees as he studied her. “You’re afraid.” His voice was softer now, almost… pained. She glared at him. “Of course I’m afraid! You—you kidnapped me! You ripped me away from my home, from Mark—” His expression darkened at that name. His jaw clenched.

“You don’t get it,” he murmured. “I had no choice.” She scoffed, bitter and furious. “No choice? You expect me to believe that?”

He met her gaze, and for the first time, she saw something beyond his twisted obsession. Grief. Raw, festering grief. A wound that had never healed. “I lost you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I lost everything.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt it again—the remnants of his emotions pressing against her empathic senses, even through the cursed amulet. It was buried under layers of rage and violence, but it was there. A deep, suffocating sorrow.

“I watched you die,” he continued, his hands curling into fists. “And I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t strong enough. So when I saw you again, in that perfect little world of yours—” His lips pressed into a thin line. “I wasn’t going to lose you again.” Her chest tightened. “That doesn’t justify this.” His eyes darkened. “I don’t care.” Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “What do you want from me?” His expression softened, but in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. “I just want you back and now I have you.” he had the same face as her lover. His lips brushed againist hers, “I would do anything for you,” then he kissed her. She pushed back but it was useless— as long as her powers were trapped in the amulet she was just useless. The thought brought tears to her eyes. She was trapped.

[darksigns-exe]

crave - noah sebastian x f!reader

warnings: unprotected intercourse, first times, swearing

word count: 3.4k

notes: So last week during hot boy hours we talked about first times with Nicky and a dear anon requested a first time with Noah. I hope that I interpreted your ask correctly if not pls yell at me (gently) thank you bye <33

masterlist | taglist sign-up

Every time he hears his friends talk about the girls they’ve picked up, it makes him want to crawl out of his skin a little bit. 

With how swarmed he is, you’d think that he’s long ticked that point off the bucket list. 

But he’s just never found the right moment — or person. 

The few times he’s come close to being with someone like that, it always felt as if that was the only thing they wanted from him. And maybe that’s a little cynical or conceited. He’s a gentleman, though, so he’ll send them home with an orgasm and a promise of next time. 

A next time they both know will never come. 

And then he’s suddenly twenty-eight, and it feels like something he should have done ten years ago. 

With how busy the band is, Noah doesn’t feel as if he could do a serious relationship justice, and so intimacy moves to the very bottom of his list of priorities. 

It’s not until the band is between albums again that he allows himself to even forge connections outside the band again. 

He’s treating himself to a trip to the bookshop in an attempt to get out of the post tour rut he’s been in. No real aim or goal, just an attempt to get out of the house for a little bit and to – maybe – find something new to fill his brain with. 

And that’s where he meets you, browsing the science fiction section. For a bit, he lurks, watches if you’re with someone, before he builds up the courage to ask if you have a recommendation for him. It feels a little awkward to ask a total stranger how they feel about a book, but Noah’s determined to try. At least then, he can tell his therapist that he tried his best. 

Before he knows it, you’ve been talking for an hour, and he just doesn’t want it to stop. The conversation just keeps flowing from one thing to another, and Noah finds himself pulled in by your warmth. For once, he feels brave enough to ask if you’d like to exchange numbers – so that he can tell you if he liked the book as much as you did.  

His heart thumps a little when he sees that you’ve saved your name with that little sparkle emoji in his phone. 

A few days later, you show up at his place with a stack of books that you promised to lend him. He asks if you’d like to stay for a coffee, just because he doesn’t want to let you go again so soon. 

It’s entirely innocent. 

Noah genuinely just enjoys spending time with you. It feels good to have a friend who’s not involved with the band or music in general. He likes hearing about your work gossip, about the recipes you’ve tried recently, the puppy your friend recently picked up from a local shelter. 

It feels normal, grounded – and maybe that’s exactly what he needed. 

It becomes a regular thing after that. Jolly jokingly calls your meetings the saddest book club he’s ever seen. 

Noah doesn’t know when his heart starts beating a little bit faster when he sees you. It’s not in a nervous way, he’s just – happy. And he’s sure that your eyes linger on him a little bit longer, too. 

Noah really notices it for the first time when he’s over at your place for a night of movies and pizza that you prescribed him as a change from what he usually gets up. He suddenly doesn’t mind the lingering touches and looks. And he finds himself hoping that you’ll rest your head on his shoulder like you sometimes do. 

And when you do, he has to give himself a little pep talk before he manages to convince himself that draping his arm over your shoulder is okay. He relaxes a little when you sink further against him. 

Feeling so comfortable around another person is a little new. Noah’s not exactly used to letting his walls down around people he hasn’t known since the dawn of time. But it feels right to let you in. 

The touches slowly increase and Noah finds himself craving proximity to you more and more. He hasn’t known himself to be someone who sought out intimacy like that before, but now he can’t wait to see you and to get comfy with you somewhere. 

You meet for regular movie nights after a while. Sometimes you end up at his place, even though Noah seems to be a little bit more reserved around his friends. He’s still close, but not nearly as close as he’d be in the privacy of your home. 

You’re getting a bowl of popcorn ready, while Noah tells you about the show he’s picked for you to watch. 

“I can’t believe that you’ve never seen it.” Noah says, hopping up onto the counter next to you. 

“Just never got around to it.” You shrug, “It’s been on my watch list, though.”

You pop a piece of popcorn into your mouth. Noah lets out a protesting huff, as he crosses his arms like a petulant child. 

You roll your eyes in jest, before you hold a piece out to him. He leans in, allowing you to feed it to him. Inadvertently, your fingers brush against his lips, and you swear that you feel a little zap of electricity. 

Noah looks down at you with a softness that you’re still not used to. You’ve noticed it a few times already. You can’t quite tell with him if this is just how he looks at people he keeps close. 

It almost feels like the moment before a kiss. The tension is there, and you can feel yourself gravitating towards him. 

Noah opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but he quickly closes it again when one of his roommates enters the kitchen, loudly dropping a bag of groceries onto the counter. 

“You two got plans for today?” Jolly asks, as if he hasn't just walked in on you getting closer and closer. 

Noah snaps out of it quicker than you do. 

“Someone’s never seen Hill House, and we have to remedy that.” He explains, “We’ll see how many episodes we get through before it becomes too scary.”

You like this little back and forth you have with him. It’s familiar, comfortable. And most importantly, it makes you smile. 

Jolly pulls a face that makes you think that he was expecting a different answer from Noah. You try your best to ignore how warm it makes your face feel. 

There’s a tense moment of silence in the room, before Jolly makes his departure, muttering something about you keeping it PG as he wanders out of the room again. 

You later find out that a group of them is heading out to get dinner together, meaning that you and Noah will be the only ones in the house. 

Eventually, you find your way upstairs, settling against the headboard while Noah sets everything up. 

The scene is almost a little domestic.

Occasionally, you let yourself wonder what it’d be like if you were more than friends. But then you remember Noah saying that he doesn’t feel like he’s ready for a relationship at the moment and shove it to the very back of your mind again. This friendship isn’t worth the risk. You’d rather have this than nothing at all with him. 

Noah settles next to you, letting out a content sigh. 

“Ready?” 

When you nod, he presses start and leans back against the headboard. As soon as he’s settled, you drop your head to his shoulder. Over the course of the first episode, you relax further and further against him, until you’re eventually curled against his side. His arm is snaked around your back, hand resting at your waist, keeping you close to his side. Whenever the show gets a little bit too spooky for you, you use the opportunity to hide your face against his chest, and maybe you’re playing it up a little bit.

You let your eyes wander away from the screen. Truth be told, you haven’t given the show your full attention. The way his hand rests against your waist, the slow rise and fall of his chest – it’s all been too distracting. 

You look up at Noah, only to find him already looking at you. His lips quip up in a little smile, and it makes you feel all warm inside. You’re not sure who of you initiates it, but a moment later you feel his lips on yours, and it feels a little as if everything has been leading up to this moment. 

The show becomes background noise, as you get lost in the kiss you share. You soon find yourself straddling his lap. His hands are firm on your waist, digging into your flesh almost painfully. 

“Noah?” you ask, barely moving away from him. 

He looks at you then, eyes blown wide. 

“Are you – nervous?” 

The flush that creeps over his cheeks is almost endearing if it weren’t for the underlying insinuation that comes with it. 

“You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me.” You bring your hand to the side of his face, hoping that it’ll soothe his nerves a little bit, “We’re not doing anything big.” 

He grumbles out a few quiet words that are swallowed up by the sound of the show still flickering over the TV behind you.

“You gotta speak up a little.” you say, inching a little closer to him. 

“It is big. You’re you and I haven’t you know ever, and don’t get me wrong, I want this with you – I just don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t want you to think less of me or –” 

You let him ramble on for a moment longer, before you interrupt him with a soft kiss. 

“It’s just me, Noah. I don’t mind it if you haven’t done this before. Doesn’t change a thing about — how I feel about you.”

“You really don’t mind?” 

“Why would I?” you ask, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “You didn’t care that I’ve never seen this show either. It’s just a thing you haven’t done, like skydiving.” 

“You make it sound so easy.”

The cynical little chuckle that weaves itself between his words makes your chest ache a little, and you wonder if people have given him a hard time about this before. 

“I promise you that it’s okay. It’s just a thing.”

For a moment, his eyes flit across your face, seemingly searching for something. 

“Would you – with me?” 

You’ve never seen him be this shy about anything before. Even when someone had mistakenly referred to you as a cute couple he hadn’t looked this hesitant. 

“Are you asking me if I’d sleep with you?” you can’t hide the smile that plays on your lips then. 

“I mean if you want that with me. I don’t know if this is where –” 

“Do you think I make out with all of my friends like this?” 

He mumbles something vague about not wanting to assume anything, but you quickly shut him up with another kiss. 

“You just tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, okay?” he gives a quick nod is in response. 

You return your lips to his after that. Noah’s hands remain at your waist, and you can sense the hesitation in him. To make things easier for him, you guide his hands under the hem of your shirt. You copy the touch, hoping that it’ll show him that it’s okay for him to let his hands wanderer a little. 

He gasps so sweetly when you trail your lips along his jaw and towards his neck. His fingers dig into your skin, and you decide that now is the time to pull your shirt off. Noah uses the moment of separation to remove his own shirt. 

You let your hands wander across his skin, watching the muscles contract and twitch as you touch him. 

“Do you want to take your pants off for me?” you ask, trailing your fingers across his tummy and down towards the waist band of his sweats. 

His breath catches in his throat when you brush your hand fingers over the very obvious tent in the fabric. The little sound he makes when you touch him more intentionally almost makes you shiver. 

Being the first person who gets to see this, touch him like this, feels special. 

With a little bit of help, Noah shuffles out of his sweats. He does falter when he reaches for his boxers. You decide to shed your shorts too, leaving you in just your underwear. 

With some encouragement, he reveals all of him to you. You know how nerve wrecking this part can be. 

It all seems to be forgotten though when you wrap your hand around his cock. Noah's eyes immediately shoot down to where you’re touching him. 

“Does that feel okay?” you ask, watching him intently. 

Noah draws in a shaky breath, “Could you – a little more? Just a —” 

The words drift off into a shameless moan when you tighten your grip on him just a little bit. 

“That’s better, isn’t it?” you say softly, “I know this is a lot, but you’re doing so good for me.”

You bring your hand to his waist to steady yourself a little more. 

“Think you can do something for me?” 

He looks up at you with those pretty doe eyes then. 

You briefly remove your hand from his cock, much to his dismay, and guide one of his between your thighs. You feel the trembling of his hand against you. He’s still so awfully nervous. 

You’re sure that he’s done this before because after a few hesitant moments, you feel his fingers find a rhythm against your folds that makes your head spin. 

“You’re so — oh –” he sighs, as his fingers dip into you, “You’re soaked.” You let your head fall back as the tip of his middle finger sinks into you. He barely has a finger inside of you, and he’s already pulling the neediest sounds from you. 

“All for you.” you manage to choke out between sighs. 

He’s teasing with his touch, slowly working his finger into you and relishing in the sighs you let out before he even thinks about adding a second finger. 

You know that you should take more time with this part. It’d be less of a sting if you let him work you open just a bit more, but once you feel as if it’d be enough, impatience takes over. 

“Do you have condoms?” you ask, already expecting him to say no. 

When he does shake his head, he looks so very disheartened. 

“We know you’re clean, and I haven’t been with anyone since a bit before we met. If you trust me — and you’re comfortable with that, I’d be okay with going on without one.”

He thinks for a moment, forehead creasing as he mulls through his thoughts. 

“I don’t wanna stop.” He whispers eventually. 

You meet his smile with an equally warm one. 

“Good. Me neither.”

This time, Noah is the one who pulls you in for a kiss. His hand finds his way to the back of your head to keep you close to him. You feel him shift beneath you, seemingly getting a little impatient himself. 

You lift your waist upward, taking him into your hand once again. 

“Ready?” 

��As ready as I think I’ll ever be.” 

Your free hand returns to the side of his face, “I promise you that it’ll be fine. You’ll be okay.” 

You give him another moment, before you drag the head of his cock through your folds. Noah draws in a sharp breath. His focus shifts to where you hover above him. You sink down on him as slowly as you can manage. The stretch of him feels so good, and you have to remind yourself that this is more about him than it is about you.  

Noah’s all sighs and gasps by the time you’re settled against him. 

His head is resting against the back of the bed, as he draws in a deep breath. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you’re sure that he’s never looked more kissable before. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Noah slowly lifts his head, blinking a few times before he finally focuses on you. 

“I didn’t think that it’d feel this good.” He says hoarsely, “Give me a moment.”

Hearing how affected he already is brings a smile to your face, “There’s no rush, we have all the time in the world.”

He takes another deep breath, letting the air out in a huff. 

“Thank you for being so patient with me.” Noah says after a while, now sounding a little less as if he’s about to fall apart. 

You lean in to kiss his cheek, “Of course.”

You shift against him, tearing a pleasured sigh from his lips. You repeat the motion, just to see how he’ll react. Noah’s hands practically fly to your waist. 

“Oh – fuck.” Noah buries his face in the side of your neck. 

His breath fans out against your skin as you set a slow rhythm against him. As much as you want to let him hide, you also want to see his expressions. You carefully tangle your fingers into his hair and pull him away from you again. Noah's head lulls back against the headboard, exposing the column of his neck to you. 

You keep up a slow back and forth against him. 

Noah’s lips are parted just so. They shine with spittle as he sighs and moans for you. The pitch of his sounds seems to increase with every pass you make. 

You sigh out his name, causing his hips to twitch upwards. 

“You feel so good.” you tell him, arching your back as the head of his cock hits a particularly good spot inside of you. 

The words you want to say trail off into an unashamed moan. 

You can’t quite place it, but it feels different with him. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you. There’s something so worshipful about the way he can’t tear his eyes away from yours.

With the way you’re tangled together you can barely move, but it’s enough to push you both closer to the edge. 

Noah lets out a whine, as his face twists up in pleasure. 

“Getting close?” you barely manage to choke out the question. 

Noah nods frantically, “So close. Fuck keep going like that –” 

His words tear off into a gasp as you feel him spilling inside of you. You follow a moment later. You ride out your high against him. It all feels so good. The tight coil in your belly slowly unravels and eventually, you drape yourself against him. Noah quickly wraps his arms around you. 

He lets out a content, but tired, sigh. 

You remain like this for a while, entirely unwilling to separate yourself from him. 

Noah whispers your name after some time. 

“Thank you.” he says quietly, “I – I almost didn’t think that this would happen.”

“In general or –?”

You sit up just enough to be able to look at him. “Both. I don’t know when it happened but – at some point this started to feel like more than friendship.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he says it, and you allow him to avert his gaze for a moment longer. You bring your hand back to his cheek to make him look at you. 

“Should be fairly obvious that this is a mutual thing, right?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral and steady. 

“That so?” he returns to that trademark boyish confidence of his then. 

“Listen –” you don’t have to finish your faux threat. 

Noah breaks into a smile then, leaning into your space to steal another kiss from you. 

A shower later, you’re tucked back into his bed. You’d made the mutual decision to postpone your movie night in favour of a much-needed conversation about where this all leaves you. In the end, it leaves you with Noah resting against your tummy while you watch a mindless re-run of some reality TV show.  

Your fingers mindlessly card through his hair, and an accidentally too rough tug makes him look up at you. He smiles so softly, before he presses a kiss to the bare skin of your tummy. 

“I’m so glad that I asked you about that book.” he whispers, once more resting his head against you. 

“So am I.” you return. 

Being here with him like this feels right. You’re not sure if you believe in fate, but maybe there is something to it after all because there is no way that this was not meant to be.

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake @th4t-em0-k1d

@thisbicc @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @mrsnoahsebastian @blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence

@fadingangelwisp @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisisntablogspost @tintadecirco

@rumoured-whispers @cheyyyyr @mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland @xmads-omensx

[cinnaleaf]

In Your DMs: Left on Read - Ch 1: Never Say Never

summary: you left jude on read once—but after one reckless night, he’s making damn sure you never ignore him again 💫 | MDNI 18+

warnings: angst/tension, push/pull dynamic, alcohol consumption, party setting, language, sexual references, public argument, easter eggs from previous fics wc: ~5.9k (approx. 21 minutes) 💋: it’s only chapter 1… pray for them. song inspo: VeLDÁ x Bad Bunny ft Omar Courtz & Dei V

It had been two weeks since you hooked up with Jude in a drunken rendezvous, and while the dick was surprisingly fantastic, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to get the ick. You gave Jude your number after you left his house that afternoon in post-orgasm delusion and he’d been bombarding your phone with texts, voice messages, unscheduled facetime calls, and random tiktoks that “reminded him of you” ever since. He clearly thought your hookup was something more, which made you regret your decision to give him any attention at all. Although pretty privilege had its perks, a world class footballer being obsessed with you was not a perk you wanted to engage in – especially when it was Jude Bellingham.

You sat in the apartment you shared with Bri and Tasha, watching your other friend, Mateo, scroll through his phone while shaking his head. “Miss girl…” he drawled with an amused grin. “They have all of your tea in 4k. All of it.” Mateo handed his phone to you and you nastily glared at the screen, annoyed that you suddenly became a part of whatever the fuck this was:

SpillTheBeansUK Looks like Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago 👀. The England star was spotted leaving a Madrid club with 21 year old Y/N, an NYU Tisch film & television student from Miami who’s currently studying abroad and very much a regular in both cities’ party scenes. Her dad is none other than THE ‘Dr. Cinch’, the mastermind behind SculptHaus Miami, the go to clinic for IG baddies and A-listers looking for that perfect CINCHED look 💉 Jude’s no stranger to being deep in a girl’s likes, but he’s been extra consistent with Y/N’s lately. What’s really going on here? Because word is, she’s not exactly the type to be impressed.. especially by ballers like him. 🤨

2Fast4VAR wait she’s from miami?? bro lost before he even started. she’s built different. 😂

CertifiedMenace69 if i was jude i’d be in her dms, comments, and her email too she’s bad af

BigBootyJudeyFC he’s about to start liking those inspirational quotes on IG like “if it’s meant to be, it will be.” 💀

MissMiamiDade305 jude better watch out... does anyone remember when she had that miami promoter crying on IG live last year?? she does NOT play with these men 💀💀

gossipgorlzzz not him liking her pics and finally getting the W! stay persistent kings!!

SpillTheBeansES Si Jude cree que puede cambiarla.. le deseo suerte 🤷‍♀️ (If Jude thinks he can change her.. I wish him luck)

JudePorFavor jude’s probably in her DMs like “pls respond angel 😩” LMAO

Baddiebydesign not dr. cinch’s daughter!! she’s set for life. face card AND her dad’s the plug? i bet her friends never have to pay for fillers 😭

AnonymousInsider13 i heard she’s cool with that real madrid baloncesto guy too…santiago something. ngl that man is fine af. if she’s choosing between him and jude i see why she’s taking her sweet time 

RedBlooded1892 maybe her dad can fix jude’s shoulder that’s about to fall off the hinge 😭 cinchdollsnob her dad literally invented half the faces we double tap. a baddie with real face card genetics. life ain’t fair. ChampagnePapiButBroke jude and his big bum liking all her pics is sending me. boy was lurking HARD

ChickenNCoke cinched bellibabe is kind of an iconic alias icl

mamacitasintl lmaooo if jude’s trying to lock her down..good luck. her dad probably has a vetting process more intense than real madrid’s medicals

nosygirlieFC jude defo heard about trent bagging the perfume baddie and thought he could do the same LOL

You were annoyed by the post to an extreme amount. Whoever was the administrator of this god awful account decided to treat you like you were some Z list Love Island reject instead of a girl who got dicked down ONE time in a moment of weakness and dipped.

Bri leaned over to scan the screen and let out a cackle. “ ‘Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago!’ ” she mimicked in a dramatized voice. 

“Ew.” You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

Tasha was deep in the comments on her own phone, scrolling at lightning speed. “No but, ‘She’s not exactly the type to be impressed… especially by ballers like him’ is so shady,” she snorted, flicking her eyes to yours. “The streets know you too well.”

Mateo looked at you with a sly grin, clasping his hands together. “Sooo...how does it feel to be a Bellingham Baddie?”

You cut your eyes at him. “Don’t fucking start.”

“It’s too late.” Bri waved her phone in the air, grinning. “Your inauguration is already underway. These people are in the comments eating it up.”

“Let me see” Mateo snatched Bri’s phone from her and started reading out loud. “ ‘She’s bad as hell, I’d be in her likes too.’ ” He smirked, flipping his wrist. “Real recognizes real.”

Tasha leaned over, giggling. “Wait, this one says ‘Jude’s in his romantic era. He’s playing the long game.’ ”

“Oh hell no. Absolutely not.” You reached for the phone but Mateo dodged you with the speed of a messy gay man who lived for drama. 

“Hold on, hold on.” He scrolled further, widening his eyes before he started howling. “Ohhh girl, not this one!” he wheezed, hardly able to get his words out. “ ‘Jude’s big bum came from Dr. Cinch? Noted.’ ”

Bri and Tasha both started laughing with tears streaming down their eyes. “Not Jude having BBL allegations because they found out who your dad is!”

You ran your hands across your face, shaking your head. “I hate this app.”

Mateo was screaming along with the other two, kicking his feet out but you really didn’t find it all that funny. “No, I LOVE this app!”

After their laughter subsided, Tasha shook her head, continuing to scroll through the comments. “The way they dug up your whole life just off one club sighting is actually insane.”

“I know. They need jobs.” You groaned, leaning back against the cushions. 

Mateo tilted his head while eyeing you. “Well, since you’re the new bombshell in the Bellingham Baddie villa, you may as well tell me...how was it?”

Bri and Tasha perked up immediately, turning to face you while giggling, mainly because they already knew. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you picked up your own phone. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Mateo questioned, not fully believing you because you usually gave him the full rundown in detail, but this time you were holding back. “Just fine?! Don’t tell me he’s a minute man. It’s always the hot ones.”

Bri leaned in. “Mmm, I don’t know about that. Tasha and I called and she couldn’t even talk. That man blew her back out for sure.”

“In her words exactly.. it was ‘one hundred percent worth it’ ” Tasha added. “If the dick was bad she would’ve come home the next day and roasted his ass but she didn’t. She was quiet as a mouse.”

Mateo pointed at you accusingly, narrowing his eyes while analyzing you. “And you keep dodging the conversation which means it had to be amazing.”

You rolled your eyes, fake scrolling through your phone like you always did when you couldn’t look someone in the eye. “Well I don’t know about all of that now...he’s doing too much.”

Mateo snickered. “You gave him the best pussy of his life and dipped. Of course he’s doing too much.”

You groaned again, letting your head fall back against the couch. “Can y’all shut the fuck up?”

“Absolutely not.” Mateo fired back immediately, leaning forward to read you for filth. “I know you. If it was mid, you would’ve been dragging him for filth. You’d be in this living room doing a full dissertation on why that man is a waste of height.”

Tasha nodded, scrolling with purpose. “But instead you’re holding back.”

Bri suddenly gasped, pointing a finger at you. “Ooh, she likes him.”

That was where you drew the line. The suggestion that you, of all people, would be catching feelings for a footballer, let alone Jude Bellingham sent you straight into defense mode. It wasn’t even about him specifically, but merely the principle of the matter. You didn’t date athletes. Not seriously anyway. NEVER seriously. You learned a long time ago they were all the same: entitled, egotistical, and so used to women throwing themselves at their feet just because they could handle a ball and had a few viral highlight reels. They saw women as accessories, something to show off when it suited them and discard when it didn’t. You weren’t about to be anyone’s little off-season toy passed around in a group chat the second they got bored. That was never going to be you.

But ballers weren’t completely useless though, they had their perks. Stamina? Unmatched. Strength? Ideal. But once the adrenaline wore off and post-orgasm clarity set in, the appeal disappeared right along with it. You entertained a few before just for fun, just to see if they were worth the hype, but they all had one thing in common: they started thinking they were special. Like they had you hooked. Like they were pulling the strings.

It was funny, really. Because if anything? They were always the ones falling first. Every time.

Jude was proving to be no different. The way he sauntered up to you in the club as if he knew where the night was headed, versus the way his ego deflated the minute you left his messages on read for weeks was textbook athlete behavior. And now? He was chasing you.

Mateo tapped the edge of his phone against his palm, watching you with an expression that made it very clear he was about to ask something that would grate your nerves.

“So what’s really going on with you and Jude?” He tilted his head, brows raised in intrigue. “Like.. what is he to you?”

You didn’t even look up from your phone and scrolled as you answered, “A pronoun.”

Mateo’s mouth dropped open, delighted by your messy answer. “Be so fucking for real Y/N” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “If he’s just a pronoun to you then why did you give him your number?”

Tasha didn’t even give you a chance to answer before jumping in. “That’s actually a great fucking question. Because you knew giving him your number meant this...” she gestured to the entire situation, the group chat chaos, the SpillTheBeansUK mess, “so why did you do it?”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head back against the couch from being exhausted by all of this nonsense. “He asked for it, so I gave it.”

Bri blinked at you. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Mateo was unconvinced. “And you just gave it to him? No hesitation? No thoughts?”

“I was in a state of post-nut delusion.” You shrugged, sipping from your water bottle to avoid any further questions.

Tasha sucked her teeth. “Mmm.” 

Bri was already side-eyeing you. “Mmhmm.” 

Mateo tapped his phone again, unimpressed. “Lying just like the mattress he put you through, I see.”

You ignored them. There was a very brief moment where you considered not giving him your number. You could’ve just taken your Uber and dipped, pretended like it never happened, and gone back to your normal, Bellingham-free existence. But Jude gave you a cocky, half lidded smirk that made you fold immediately when he asked. You figured your brain was still stuck somewhere between your legs for wanting to hear from him again, which was exactly why you were so annoyed with yourself. Not only was he blowing up your phone, but now you were on SpillTheBeansUK. You scrolled through the endless posts dissecting your one mistake, making you feel more irritated with every new comment. There were threads analyzing your every move, posts tracking Jude’s IG likes, and an entire debate about whether or not you were “Jude’s type.” 

“How do these people have so much free time? Is the unemployment rate that high?” you muttered, aggressively tapping out of Instagram. “I was in the same club as him one time, and suddenly I’m the internet’s main character of the day? I fucking hate it here.”

Bri snickered, nudging Tasha. “Not her being mad when she willingly chose to leave with him.”

You shot the nastiest glare at both of them.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Bri challenged, raising her brow.

She wasn’t wrong. You did willingly leave with him. You hated the attention and the way people were dissecting your life, but you weren’t completely mad at the way Jude was acting. Mainly because he wasn’t just moving on like it never happened and letting you fade into the background. He was still chasing you. And even if you never wanted to admit it.. you liked that.

Your phone pinged in your hand to bring you out of your thoughts, making you glance down at your notifications.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 17:43 - Did I do something?? 17:51 - Because I’m struggling to believe I had you screaming my name two weeks ago but now you’re airing me. 18:02 - Hello? 18:27 - Ok I get it. I know you don’t really do this athlete thing. 18:28 - I’m not blocked though 👀 18:42 - Let me take you out?

You rolled your eyes before switching to a different text thread.

SANTI DOMINGUEZ 🏀 🇩🇴 20:42 - Y/Nitaaa que haces esta noche? (what are you doing tonight?) 20:42 - Fiesta en La Finca at mi pana’s house for the night. Big ass infinity pool, drinks, music, todo. Pull up. 20:43 - Bring your friends too. Dime que si. (Tell me yes.)

You smiled, already typing out a response.

20:45 - A party in La Finca? Bet. 20:46 - We’re coming. You better have good drinks!

Santi hearted the message instantly.

20:47 - Siempre, preciosa. Nos vemos. (Always, gorgeous. See you soon.)

You liked Santi. He was one of the few people in Madrid who weren’t constantly on some clout chasing nonsense, which meant you actually enjoyed being around him. And even though he could be a little flirty, it wasn’t serious. 

You were just about to lock your phone when another text rolled in.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:48 - Your dad is a plastic surgeon??

You frowned, watching as a second message came in.

— [SpillTheBeansUK post]

Oh. He really was chronically online. 

“Ew,” you muttered from the ick of it all before typing out your own response.

20:48 - why the fuck are you sending me STB links like you’re a gossip girl admin? touch grass.

There was no immediate response but you knew he probably read it the second the notification popped up on his phone. He was probably typing, stopping, then typing again, trying to figure out how to keep you engaged without pushing too far. It was funny really, the difference between the two of them. Santi would text once, maybe twice most of the time and you would reply immediately with no hesitation. Meanwhile, Jude would send text after text, throw in tiktoks, voice messages and a Facetime call here and there, which made you want to take your sweet time responding.

You could already feel the looks your friends were giving you, but Mateo was the first to speak.

“So you answer Santiago immediately but Jude has to beg for a response?” He smirked, already piecing together what would likely go down tonight at the party. Tasha hummed in agreement and glanced over your shoulder at your phone. “She doesn’t even respond to us that fast but Santi texts and suddenly her fingers work?”

You locked your phone and flipped it over on the table so they wouldn’t see any other message notifications from Jude or Santi. “It’s not that deep.” 

“It is that deep,” the three of them spoke in unison. 

Tasha pointed at your phone and then crossed her arms. “Explain.”

You stretched your arms over your head, already starting to prepare your exit strategy. “I don’t have to explain anything.”

“Oh, but you do,” Bri countered, shifting to face you. “Because you clearly like the attention from both of them.”

You let out a sharp exhale and grabbed your phone, making your way to your bedroom. “I have to get ready for the party and I suggest y’all do the same if you’re coming.”

You dropped your phone onto the bed and stood in front of your wardrobe, biting your lip while you scanned through your options. La Finca pool parties weren’t the same as your club nights. The vibe was more laid back but the guest list was usually stacked with the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, so naturally you had to one up them and show them how a Miami girl stepped out. Just as you were grabbing a cropped halter top from the hanger, your phone vibrated against your comforter and you snatched it up immediately.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:58 - Touch grass with me. What’s the move tonight?

You debated telling him about the party, but you decided against it and threw your phone back on the bed with a scoff to finish getting ready. Although he was giving you the ick, something about the way he chased you fed a very specific, very vain part of you and you would be lying if you didn’t admit you weren’t the least bit curious in how far Jude was willing to take it. 

Somewhere outside of your room, you could hear Bri and Tasha moving around, digging through wardrobe drawers and arguing over what top to wear. Mateo’s voice floated down the hall, loudly reminding everyone that if they didn’t hurry up, he was leaving without all of you.

An hour later, the four of you piled into a car with the windows down as the city lights of Madrid blurred past. The further you drove into La Finca, the bigger the homes became. When you finally pulled up to the house, you could hear a mix of reggaeton, afrobeats and spanish trap music playing through the air. The garden surrounding the property was already full of people with drinks in hand as they laughed and swayed to the music. 

You made your way to the pool area, smelling the mixed scent of tangy smoke from hookah and rum. You adjusted your top, feeling the backless cut brush your skin in the breezy, but warm night time air as you walked on the stone pathway. Your matching mini skirt hugged your hips just right and dipped low enough to show the string of your bikini bottoms underneath. Your small entourage followed behind you, already plotting the kind of chaos they could get into tonight.

Mateo adjusted the collar of his shirt, scoping out the scene. “I’m manifesting a man with a villa tonight. Just watch.”

“Manifest being the bartender while you’re at it” Tasha muttered, eyeing the outdoor bar where bottles of Ron Barcelo, Brugal, and Larios gin were already in rotation. Someone had cracked open a case of Estrella Galicia beers, and a group near the pool was passing around cups of Kalimotxo, the unofficial drink of every wild night in Spain.

“Vamonos mamis!” Santi yelled from somewhere near the pool. 

His height alone made him impossible to miss. He was a towering 6’5”, had broad shoulders with a trim waist, perfectly white teeth, dimples, deep sun kissed skin, and a freshly trimmed fade that made you tilt your head slightly to take a better look. He had that natural Dominican aura that made it impossible to tell whether he was flirting or just being nice.

“Oh, you’re outside, outside tonight!” he teased, sliding his arm around your waist for a quick hug. He glanced behind you and smiled at Bri, Tasha and Mateo. “Good to see you all. Drinks are in the kitchen. Hookah’s by the pool.”

“And you’re where?” Bri asked, arching a brow while biting the nail of her finger flirtatiously.

“Everywhere.” Santi winked, then tilted his head back toward the pool. “Come find me if you need anything.” He disappeared back into the crowd before any of you had time to respond, leaving the scent of his cologne lingering between all of you.

“Oooh he’s wearing Rêveur.” Tasha nodded in approval, taking a second glance back to get another look at him. “That man has taste.” 

“But why is he so fineee?” Bri muttered under her breath.

Mateo snickered. “Because God had time when he made Dominican men that’s why.”

You hated gassing men up too much, so you gave them a blank stare, eventually walking away to make your way toward the drinks as Bad Bunny’s “VeLDÁ” played through the sound system. They followed behind and Mateo took on his duty as bartender, rummaging through bottles of Havana Club and Brugal Añejo.

“Shots or mixed drinks?” Mateo asked, double fisting bottles in his hands.

“Mixed” you answered immediately.

“Shots” Bri and Tasha dueted.

“Majority rules, sorry Y/N” Mateo mused as he reached for the shot glasses.

On the other side of the yard, Jude leaned back in an outdoor lounge chair, resting his arms lazily while his drink sat half empty on the table in front of him. He wasn’t drunk, but the warmth of Madrid, the drinks, and the atmosphere had him leaning into the mood.

“That’s her?” Cama tilted his head toward the cluster of people near the pool, smiling with curiosity.

Jude didn’t answer at first and stared at the condensation on his glass before moving his eyes back to you. He clocked you as soon as you stepped on the stone pathway, he couldn’t have missed you even if he tried. The backless halter top with the matching mini skirt, coupled with the sheen of your Dior lip oil catching in the light every time you tilted your head back to laugh, had his head spinning. Even from a distance, he could see the faint tan lines peeking from under the straps of your bikini strings underneath your outfit.

“Damn..” Kylian whistled beside him, leaning forward to take a closer look at Bri and Tasha. “Who are the girls next to her though?”

Jude glanced sideways, trying to suppress a smirk. “Focus mate.”

“I am focused,” Kylian replied with a laugh, still scanning the scene.

Cama chuckled and nudged Jude’s arm. “She looks good, bro. You bringing her home tonight or what?”

Jude tilted his head, taking another slow sip of his drink. “We’ll see. She likes to play hard to get.”

“Does she know you’re here?” Kylian asked as if he cared, when he was actually plotting on Bri and Tasha.

“Nah.”

The truth sat heavy on his chest. He hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, but then again, Madrid was a small world when it came to hanging around certain circles. It was bound to happen eventually. But seeing you laughing with your friends did something to him that he wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You should go over there” Cama suggested, nudging Jude’s arm. 

“Not yet.” Jude replied, following the curve of your bare shoulders as you tipped your head back to down a shot with your friends. The twist of your face from the burn of the alcohol, along with the parting of your lips made it too easy to remember the way those same lips felt against him just two weeks ago.

—

The shot you had just taken settled warmly in your stomach while the bass from the music grew heavier. The music was loud, the air filled with scents of alcohol, sweat, and smoke but none of it could shake the buzz in your head from spotting Jude in the party crowd.

Of all the parties in Madrid, he had to be at this one.

You clutched your glass tighter, trying to resist the urge to look back at the lounge chairs near the pool. Bri crossed her arms and smirked, darting her eyes between you and Jude. “So you’re just gonna ignore him all night?”

“Ignore who?” you replied flatly, knowing damn well who she was talking about.

“Oh girl. Pack it up.” Tasha chimed in from your other side while swaying to the beat of the music. “You know exactly who.”

“No. I don’t.” you muttered, wiping off the condensation wetness from your fingertips.

“Then why are you gripping the glass like that?” Bri teased, bumping your hip with hers.

You ignored her and instead scanned the crowd for any sign of Santi. You spotted him leaning against a pillar with a bottle of beer in hand, laughing at something one of his teammates said. His crisp white shirt clung to his torso, making you gawk just a little. When he caught your gaze, he lifted his beer and gave you a blinding smile.

Tasha clocked it immediately and raised her eyebrows. “Well.. looks like you have options tonight. Bellingham or Dominguez?”

You sighed heavily, ignoring her again and headed to the pool to dip your feet in. The infinity pool stretched out in front of you as you swung your legs back and forth in the water. You should’ve felt relaxed, or maybe even carefree and tipsy, but instead you were on edge.

On the other side of things, now that you were closer, Jude watched you from the rim of his glass as he took long, slow sips. Kylian and Cama were talking next to him but their words turned into background noise while he observed the way you leaned back with your hands pressed against the pool deck stone.

“She’s going to notice you staring eventually” Kylian leaned in, sensing Jude still had you on his mind.

Jude tilted his head back to finish his drink. The thought of you being so close yet so far away made the alcohol sit heavier in his stomach. You hadn’t really been giving him much of a thought since you hooked up and that bothered him. It made him want you even more. He internally debated with himself, wondering if he should just leave you alone or speak up now that he had an opening that you absolutely couldn’t leave on read. Just as he was about to stand, Cama clapped him on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Go talk to her bro. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could throw her drink in his face..” Kylian added helpfully.

Jude snorted. “Nah. I don’t think she’s like that.”

He really didn’t know you as well as he thought he did, you were definitely ‘like that’ if the need arose. 

Jude stood up with enough adrenaline and liquid courage to walk the short path to the pool’s edge where you sat. You felt his towering presence immediately as he stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, glancing toward you swishing your feet in the water.

“You ignoring my texts now?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, surprised that he had the gall to start the conversation off that way. “You’re not serious.”

A gleam of moonlight caught on his lips when he shifted closer to you with a lazy smirk plastered over his face. “I get it. You’re a busy girl. But you could’ve at least told me you would be here tonight.”

“For what? Why would I tell you?” you countered, looking up at him in annoyance. “I don’t even know you like that.” The nerve of this boy to think he deserved to know any of your moves when he wasn’t your man, or anything remotely close to it.

“You know me well enough to let me fuck..”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “Excuse me?”

Jude tilted his head, still with a dumb smirk on his face that made you want to slap it clean off his face. His hands were still tucked in his pockets casually, like he wasn’t standing there stirring the most out of you.

“I’m just saying..” he lazily shrugged, as if that would smooth over the conversation.

“Oh, ‘you’re just saying’ ” you mocked, standing up to meet his eye, though you still ended up having to look up because he was so tall. The edge of your skirt brushed against his thigh and you were close enough to see the sheen of sweat on his thick hairline from the warm night air. Up close, Jude was hard to ignore. He got under your skin in the right way to make you give him your full attention.

Just the way he liked it.

“And this is coming from the same man blowing up my phone like I owe him something.”

Jude chuckled under his breath, his eyes moving briefly to your outfit before locking back onto your eyes. “I wouldn’t have to blow your phone up if you just responded the first time, angel.”

Angel.

That word hit you straight in your core. It was impossible not to hear his voice from that night echoing in your head.

“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”

You took a deep inhale through your nose, clenching your fists on your sides as heat flared through your chest from frustration and other things you weren’t ready to name.

“Don’t call me that” you snapped, but the hitch in your breath told a different story. A story that said you liked it, and Jude noticed. His eyes lowered to your lips briefly, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward like he knew exactly where your mind went. 

“Ohhh, so you do remember” he mused, clearly enjoying himself.

“Jude, I swear-” You shoved his shoulder but he barely moved in the slightest bit. He stood his ground, leaning into your ear to speak low enough so only you could hear. “Don’t start. Unless you’re trying to start something you know I can finish for you.”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you know that?”

The warmth from the alcohol running through your veins made your voice louder than you intended, making you become acutely aware of the heads starting to turn your way. In between your conversation with Jude, Tasha and Bri made their way over to sit with Kylian and Cama near the lounge chairs. Bri was sitting on Kylian’s lap with her arms draped over his neck like they knew each other way longer than what had to have been no longer than 15 minutes. All four of them were watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement.

“Okay, fuck this” you muttered under your breath, feeling the embarrassment creep in. Eyes on you and whispers spreading throughout the crowd was the exact type of thing you wanted to avoid. Your mind flashed to the SpillTheBeans post and the comments dissecting your entire life, snapping you right back to the cruel reality of being a newly added ‘Bellingham Baddie’, as your friends called it.

“This is exactly why I don’t fucking date athletes” you jabbed a finger at Jude’s chest for emphasis.

“Who said anything about dating?”

You laughed in disbelief and threw your hands up. The tipsiness loosened your filter in all the wrong ways. “You know what? I’m so sick of-”

“Todo bien?” (Everything okay?)

The sound of Santi’s voice made you freeze mid sentence. You turned around just enough to see him approaching with an unbothered walk, beer still in hand like he wasn’t about to walk straight into chaos. His eyes moved between you and Jude, reading the situation.

“We’re good.” you answered, holding up your hand toward Santi as if that would somehow deescalate whatever was about to go down.

“Didn’t look like it,” Santi eyed Jude in a way that was more curious than confrontational, but Jude wasn’t having it, being the crashout that he was.

“You her bodyguard or something?” Jude shot, tilting his chin as he stepped fully into Santi’s space. Santi’s smile didn’t budge but his posture shifted subtly enough to raise the tension up a couple notches. “Nah. I’m just looking out for a friend” he replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.

“Yeah? Well, she doesn’t need you to–”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you yelled loud enough to cut through the music and all the other conversations happening around the pool. Heads turned with the rise of your voice and half of the party had their eyes locked on the three of you, but you were too far gone, and too far drunk to care.

“I am so tired of you men acting like I’m some prize you get to win!” You jabbed a finger between both of them in frustration. “I don’t fucking belong to either of you! And you..” You turned to Jude with fire in your eyes. “Stop acting like I owe you something just because I let you fuck me ONE time!”

Jude’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“And you..” You whipped back to Santi, who at least had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Don’t walk up here like you’re about to save me! I don’t fucking need saving!”

The silence was deafening after the read you gave them, broken only by the distant sound of water pushing against the pool edge and gossiping chatter from the crowd.

Finally, Jude ran a hand over his curls, exhaling hard through his nose. “You done?”

“Yes, I’m done! I’m never fucking you again so get it out of your thick skulled head!” you snapped and stormed off toward the house without looking back. 

Back at the lounge chairs, Kylian and Cama exchanged looks while Bri and Tasha creased in laughter.

“I don’t know whether to be scared or impressed..” Kylian shook his head in amusement.

“Definitely impressed,” Cama replied with a grin.

You stormed off down the path leading toward the house, weaving through random groups of partiers who definitely caught at least half of the argument. The adrenaline and frustration swirling around in your head had you on ten.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” you spoke to yourself, enraged. “I fucking hate ballers. Worms for brains ass motherfuckers.”

The nerve and audacity of that man to approach you like he was owed something more than the one night you already gave him pissed you off. Your chest was filled with a fury of emotions you really didn’t want to unpack, especially not in the middle of a party where half of the crowd had probably pulled out their phones to message their group chats about what they just witnessed. As soon as you reached the back door of the house, Mateo appeared beside you out of nowhere, moving swiftly to match your quick pace.

“Girl.. what was all of that?” he asked, eyes wide with equal parts concern and curiosity.

“Nothing.” you muttered with clenched teeth, but Mateo wasn’t having it.

“Nothing? That was prime telenovela content and I need details immediately. Why did-”

“I’m never fucking Jude again,” you snapped, cutting him off before he had a chance to launch his full analysis. It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone else. Mateo knew Jude having you this bothered by his presence meant you’d be rethinking that exact statement in approximately three to five business days. He’d seen it all before, so instead of pushing any further, he took one sip of his drink and gave a knowing look between you, Santiago, and Jude.

“Mmm… never say never.”

[crowsofdarkness]

Truth: One Shot

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 8,799

Content Warnings: language, angst, tiny bit of violence, mentions of death, mentions of drunk driving, alcoholism, and implied smut.

Summary: A next door neighbor bound with secrets; one of which nearly breaks you from the inside out.

-originally posted on my old blog-

I walked up the last few steps towards my apartment, the long and emotional day finally catching up to me. The three hour drive turned into a six hour and with half of my day gone, the thought of climbing into bed brought a soft smile to my lips. The amount of people I had to plaster a fake smile for mentally drained me so I was thankful I didn’t have to see anyone for the next 12 hours until someone undoubtedly face-timed me to check in. 

Grief wasn’t something I expected to deal with overnight and the support was nice when needed. But it had been years since that night, I was at the point in my life where I was ready to finally move on and accept it, even if his family continued to check in every day. 

Whatever joy I felt about being able to quickly slip inside and into my bed left my body when I noticed two guys hanging around the apartment door across from mine, chatting amongst themselves. Internally I groaned when I knew that I wasn’t going to go unnoticed by them. Almost every day one of them would ask for my number or ask to come inside. It never got physical and they accepted no the first time. 

It still bothered me that they tried every day. 

“Hey baby, why the long face?” One of the guys asked. 

Not wanting to deal with any of them today, I ignored them and reached my door in a quick flash, ready to get this interaction over with. However the other guy had stepped in front of me to block me from entering my apartment. 

Unbeknownst to them, I had gripped my car key in between my fingers; to be safe. 

“Please move. I’m not in the mood tonight.” I threatened. 

He licked his lips. “Come on. One night with us will change your mood. I guarantee it.” 

I sliced my eyes into him. “Move. Now.” 

He didn’t budge and the other guy was now lurking behind me. My heart hammered in my chest, not knowing what was to come. The key could only do so much damage with the two of them. 

“Everything alright?” 

I looked over my shoulder and let out a long breath of relief when I saw my next door neighbor leaning against his doorway, concern etched on his face.

“Doesn’t concern you.” The guy behind me said while not taking his eyes off of the back of my head. 

“I think it does,” my neighbor said. 

The guy that was blocking my path inside didn't bother to see who my neighbor was before he spoke up. 

“Man, get back inside. She's fine!”

“She doesn’t look fine.” 

The same guy grabbed my hand, ignoring my neighbor, and led me towards my door giving an extra hard push. 

“Tell him babe, you’re with us.” 

I haven't officially met my neighbor, only seeing him in passing, so I hoped he understood the look of despair I gazed his way. If that didn’t catch on, the way I mouthed ‘help’ should have. 

Before I could register what had happened, my neighbor had the guy behind me on the floor clutching his stomach and the guy in front of me pinned up on the wall, gloved fingers around his throat. By the look of fear in their eyes, it was clear that they finally realized who saved me. 

“I don’t want to see you lurking around here or bothering her again, understand?” 

They guys were out of sight in seconds, not wanting to get on the wrong side of my neighbor again. 

“You alright?” He asked while giving me a quick once over with his intense eyes. 

I nodded, my heart calming down. “Yeah, thank you for that. They always hang around but never got that close before.” 

My neighbor nodded. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.” 

He went to walk back into his apartment but my quiet voice stopped him. 

“Thank you again, Mr. Barnes.” 

He turned to face me once again. “You can call me Bucky. I’m around anytime if you need something.” 

We shared a small smile before slipping into our own apartments. 

The quiet solace of my apartment was everything I needed after the absolute hell of a morning I had. I never meant to raise my voice at her, she was hurting too, but she was asking questions that I didn’t even know the answer to. 

“I never said I don’t miss him, Barb. It’s just been so long that I can’t keep dwelling on the what if’s.” 

“How can you say that? Don’t you want to know what happened to him?” 

“Of course I do! But there’s no leads; no answers. I don’t know what else you want from me.” 

“He’s my son, Y/N. I will find out what happened to him whether you want me to or not!”

“He was my husband, Barb! I don’t have any fucking answers on how he died because I don’t know how he died! The cops don’t even know. So stop thinking I’m hiding something from you.” 

My mother in law meant well but she was tired of not having answers to what happened; we all were. But none of us were accusing each other of hiding something. 

I let out a deep, aggravated sigh, while I pinched my eyes shut, hoping it would help the headache that was slamming behind my eyes. My body molded into the couch, hoping that it would ease away the worries I felt. The darkness I saw behind my eyes began to fill with memories that night, hours before he died, and my veins filled with regret knowing that I was the reason he was dead. I kicked him out that night, told him not to come back unless he kicked his habit. 

Alcohol consumed his life and it wasn’t something I could deal with anymore. 

The constant fights because of him staying out all night at the bars or showing up to important things drunk as hell. 

Maybe if I let him stay, he would still be alive. 

I quickly shook those thoughts out of my mind, knowing that even if I did keep him home that night, one way or another he would have still wrapped his car around a tree. 

The only answers the cops could give me was that they believed he was driving drunk. I believed them because I knew the kind of man he was; as much as he loved me, he loved the booze a bit more. 

His mother never wanted to believe that her “precious son” could have those demons so when I told her what happened, she didn’t believe me. 

My phone’s alarm went off with the message laundry and I remembered that I had been working on my laundry when Barb called. 

Making sure my phone and keys were in my pocket, I let my door close behind me as I walked down the long hallway and hung a left, the communal laundry room coming in sight. 

I always chose to do my laundry in the middle of the night because everyone else in the building was asleep so I didn’t have to worry about someone hogging all of the machines. 

So to say I was surprised when I saw someone else in the laundry room was an understatement; mostly because Bucky had his back to me, folding away. I only knew it was him because of the metal fingers that worked to fold a shirt of his. 

“Here I thought I was the only one who did laundry at 3 am,” I smirked while walking past him. 

Bucky gave me his own. “I usually don’t but couldn’t sleep so I figured I might as well get a couple loads done.” 

Realizing that my clothes weren’t quite dry yet, I set them for another cycle before giving Bucky my attention once again. 

“Did I have my t.v to loud? I only moved in six months ago and sometimes forget that these walls are paper thin.” 

He quickly shook his head when he noticed the sorrowful frown pulling my lips. 

“Not at all. Just couldn’t sleep,” Bucky shrugged. 

 There were rumors around the complex of him, some that I opted to pay no mind too but there was one that I did believe; his nightmares. 

The walls were incredibly thin and you can hear a conversation from the person on the other side of the wall. Which meant I had heard Bucky have nightmares once or twice. Given who he was and what he used to do, I couldn’t blame him for having them. 

For a brief moment, our eyes locked and the fire I felt burning in the pits of my stomach with how intense his gaze made me bite the inside of my cheek. I had only seen him in quick passes so never got the chance to actually look at him. His blue eyes were dark, filled with exhaustion, but somehow still shone bright. His stubble that covered the lower half of his face was filled with a few gray hairs, and the long hair that he had when I saw him a few nights ago was gone. 

My mouth fell open. “How did I just notice you cut your hair?” 

Bucky smiled. “Needed something different.” 

“Well you look good. I mean it looks good. Not that you don’t look good, you do but your hair looks good too.”

Words spewed out like vomit before I had the chance to stop it. I felt my cheeks burning in embarrassment. It had been so long since I attempted to flirt with someone and the first chance I had, I blew it. 

“I’m just going to glue my lips shut now before I embarrass myself even more.” 

Bucky chuckled while lifting his basket with ease, metal arm twinkling in the overhead light. Some of the other rumors that went around the complex was that people were afraid of him because of his arm. But I always found myself intrigued with it. 

Black with gold lines twisting and turning all around his arm. I wanted to trace it with the tips of my fingers. 

“If you glued them shut then we wouldn’t be able to keep talking,” Bucky said. 

“I’m sure there are other people around here that will be glad to talk to you without embarrassing themselves.” 

He shrugged. “I don’t like talking to them as much.” 

My brow peaked at his comment. “Are you saying you like talking to me?” 

He gave me a wink before walking out of the room while calling over his shoulder. 

“You look good too by the way.” 

The previous heat I felt down below intensified and had to swallow the moan that came crawling out of my throat. This was the second interaction we shared that lasted more than a few seconds and slowly he began taking over my mind where I found myself thinking of what he was doing and how badly I wanted to talk to him or see him. 

“God, I need a bath and a large milkshake,” I groaned to myself as I reached the last step of the floor to my apartment. 

My eight hour shift that started at six this morning became a fifteen hour shift and now that it was reaching close to nine in the evening, I never craved sleep more than I did right now. 

As my door came into view, I quickly noticed that Bucky’s door was open and he was hanging around it, a few people with him. They were chatting amongst themselves and clearly having a good time so I decided not to impose. My head was down as I searched my purse for my keys, trying to go unnoticed. 

“Long day?” 

Bucky stepped away from his group of friends and leaned against my door frame. 

I nodded. “My boss asked me to stay a few extra hours; I couldn't say no.” 

“So I’d assume you’re too tired for a drink?” Bucky asked while stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve got the late shift tomorrow so I want to take advantage of the extra sleep.” I apologized. 

He waved me off, saying he understood. 

“Plus, I wouldn’t want to impose on your friends.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Bucky shook his head. “But if you change your mind, the offer still stands. 

I nodded a quick thanks before I watched him walk back into his apartment, the skinny brunette girl attached to his arm. A twinge of jealousy stirred in my stomach and I let out a gruff groan, knowing that it was ridiculous of me to feel jealous. 

The rest of the night passed with nothing exciting, that was until I had decided to finally go to sleep, only to be kept awake by nightmares of that night. Flashing red and blue lights, his car wrapped around the tree, his body hanging out of the driver's side door with blood pooling from his head, and the sirens being drowned out by my screams. 

I awoke with a scream, it echoed throughout my apartment, and my chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. It had been so long since I had dreamed of that night but it was still as raw as that night. 

Once I had calmed down, I finally could hear what was coming from the wall behind me. The headboard banging against the wall in the apartment next door only getting drowned out by the moaning of what could only be described as ecstasy. 

But as soon as I heard it, it ceased being replaced by hushed voices. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“Why’d you stop? I was so close.” 

“I think the scream came from Y/N’s place.” 

“Bucky, come on. I’m only in town for tonight. Don’t waste it on someone else. I’m sure that person is fine.”

Damn these thin walls. 

With a quick jump from my bed, I tossed on a sweater and sweatpants before climbing onto my balcony through my large bedroom window, allowing the fall night air to calm my racing thoughts. I don't know who I thought was on the other side of the wall, clearly that was Bucky’s room and there was a brunette clinging to him when they walked back into his apartment. 

It still stung to see someone else with him. 

Why does it matter to you? You’re not even on his radar. 

I shook the thought from my mind and looked up into the sky, hoping to see some stars. Why I ever moved to New York, I never understood. With the noise and lights, trying to look up to the night sky for some peace was inevitable. 

Tears fell and I ghastly wiped them away as I thought back to my nightmare, visions of him lying there in death, all alone. Soft sobs fell from my lips and shoulders shook with despair and hatred that I allowed him to leave that night. 

“Everything alright?” 

I slightly jumped at the voice and saw Bucky leaning against the shared railings of our balcony, a beer bottle loosely hanging between his fingers. 

“Yeah,” I nodded while avoiding his gaze. 

Thankfully it was dark out here so he wasn’t able to see my tear stained cheek. Between the nightmares and hearing Bucky having sex with someone else, I was a wreck. 

I wasn’t sure why the thought or image of him with someone else bothered me so much. This feeling was unknown, something I hadn’t felt in so long; since before my husband. Maybe that’s why I felt like this, guilty for it being because of another guy. 

You fancy him, dumbass. 

Blinking away the thought, I leaned deeper into the chair and closed my eyes, enjoying the breeze. 

“Anything I can help with?” Bucky questioned. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your company.” 

He quickly shook his head. “You’re not.” 

“I’m fine, Bucky. I just couldn’t sleep,” I kept my eyes trained on the chipped away  nail polish on my fingers. 

The curtness in my voice didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I heard a scream-.” 

“Bucky, there you are! What are you doing out here, it’s freezing!” 

Both of our eyes landed on the woman that had slinked her way next to Bucky, a hand on his back and a soft kiss to his cheek. 

My heart fell deep into my stomach and I let out a shaky breath to try and compose myself. I didn’t want to cry again, not in front of them. 

“I’ll be there in a minute. I’m talking with Y/N,” Bucky nodded towards me. 

I shook my head while standing to my feet. “I was actually about to head to bed. See you around.” 

“Perfect, let's go Bucky.” 

The brunette linked fingers with him, purposely avoiding his metal hand, and tried to drag him inside. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bucky wondered. 

I nodded, trying to hold the tears back but Bucky could see right through my facade and told the brunette he would meet her inside. Reluctantly she nodded and soon it was the two of us again. 

“She seems nice,” I motioned towards where she was previously standing. “Sounds like you two had a good night.” 

Bucky’s face fell when he realized what I was talking about. “You heard?” 

“Thin walls.” 

He cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry, we’re usually more quiet.” 

“Oh, so this isn’t a one time thing?” I wondered. 

“Does it matter?” He asked. 

But then the confusion was replaced with humor, a sly smirk pulling at his lips. His elbows leaned against the railing, his face coming closer to me. We were so close now I was afraid he could tell that I had been crying so I kept my gaze trained hard to the floor beneath my feet. 

A cool metal finger lifted my chin and I sucked in a breath when I drank in his gaze, so powerful and moving. 

“Are you jealous?” 

My lips parted, unsure of how to answer mostly because I didn’t even know if that’s what I was feeling. But I did recognize one feeling and was coursing through me; comfort. 

It was a simple action, his finger lifting my chin, but that had been the first contact I’ve felt in so long that it almost over took me, the tears pooling at the corner of my eyes. 

“No,” I finally answered. 

Bucky snorted, not believing me. Whatever witty comment he had was gone when tears fell from my eyes, concern clouding his gaze. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His hands now cupped my face. 

I shook my head in his grasp. “I’m fine.” 

“Y/N,” he urged. “You can talk to me.” 

My eyes refused to meet him, knowing that if they locked, I would melt into him and tell him everything. He didn’t need that, though. He could have been dealing still with his own trauma, I wasn’t going to pour mine on top of it. I had been dealing with it on my own for so long, I could continue too.  

I breathed, feeling his pinkies gently trace circles in the back of my head getting tangled in my hair. The slight action caused a quiet moan to fall from my lips. 

Not a sexual moan but a need for more affection. 

Bucky seemed to have understood so with his metal fingers he ran them fully through my hair and begged me with soft whispers to look at him. 

I obliged. 

His blue eyes bore down at me and with his touch, I felt myself crumble into him, my hands slowly grazing up his chest to his shoulders. I was ready to let it all go, let him in. 

Until her voice sounded behind us once again. 

“What the hell?” 

Bucky turned to look at the brunette, ready to explain himself but before he had the chance, I slipped out of grasp with fresh tears falling. 

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered. 

His pleas to come back meant nothing as I slipped back inside, shutting the window behind me. 

The buzzing from my phone on my end table meant nothing as I turned my back to it, adjusting a new position on my bed. With my blankets pulled up to my chin, another broken sob fell as the water from my eyes continued to stain my pillow case. 

I knew who was blowing up my phone, I didn’t need to check. 

Bucky had found my number from the apartment phone book the other day and he had been trying to get into contact with me to see how I was doing. 

It had been almost a week since that night on my balcony and I had done everything I could to avoid him. Not sure why I felt I needed too, he only was trying to help. 

Truth be told, the memories of my husband and his accident had caused me to go into a dark place, not wanting to leave my apartment let alone my bed. Since I moved to New York, I was alone, no one to share in my grief with which is why whenever a wave crashed over me, I fucking drowned in it. 

When the buzzing phone finally ceased, I breathed a sigh of relief and forced my eyes to shut in hopes of letting the dark slumber take it. 

Three persistent knocks to my window caused my eyes to spring open and when I saw Bucky sitting on the other side, I groaned. 

“Leave me alone!” I yelled, fully engulfing myself in my blankets now. 

The sound of the window opening and a large body all but crashing inside made me sit up in bed, brow perked in confusion. Bucky was standing in my bedroom now with a concerned gaze. 

“You know for a former assassin, you’re not that quiet when breaking into someone’s apartment,” I stated. 

He shrugged. “I thought about knocking on your door but figured you wouldn’t answer.” 

I nodded. “You thought right. Feel free to leave that way though.”

My back was turned to him as I laid down in bed again, pulling the blanket to my chin. Bucky didn’t need to say anything, his warm presence was still felt behind me. I let out an annoyed groan before turning to face him again and it was then that I took in appearance for the first time. Gray sweatpants and a tight black shirt that hugged every inch of his chest and torso. His metal arm twinkled under the soft glow from the lamp in the corner of my room. 

Even in somewhat darkness, he looked breathtaking. 

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” I questioned. 

When he shook his head, I reluctantly sat up and motioned for him to sit; he hesitated. 

“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be inviting you in my bed right now,” I stated. 

Realizing I had a point, he finally relaxed and sat on the edge of my bed. “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” 

“You didn’t,” I reassured him with a small smile. “I’ve been dealing with some things lately, that’s all.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky suggested. 

I gnawed on my bottom lip, debating whether or not it was a good idea to talk to him about my problems. I didn’t want him to think less of me because of them. 

You know he wouldn’t. 

“I don’t want to keep you,” I began. “Especially if you’ve got company.” 

Bucky immediately shook his head. “That’s over, I promise. You’re the only one that has my attention.” 

My heart soared with his words and the redness that crept from my cheeks to the tips of my ears didn’t go unnoticed by him. I let out a deep breath to gain whatever courage I could and wondered where to start. 

“I, uh, was married.” 

Bucky’s body tensed at my words so I gently laid a hand on his knee. “Was. Not anymore.” 

He relaxed with my touch. 

“My husband, Rick, died about eight years ago. Next month actually,” I admitted. 

His face fell. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve done my best to move on, try to create this new life without him. Which is why I moved here. I thought a fresh start would help.” 

“Why did you wait so long to leave?” Bucky asked. 

“My mother in law. We only had each other and I never found the right time to leave. But the grief and questions became too much to bear so I had to stop thinking about how she felt and start taking care of myself.” 

I almost didn't notice Bucky slip his flesh fingers between mine as I continued to tell my story. 

Almost. 

“She was so hell bent on finding the truth on what happened that her accusations pushed me away.” 

“With his death?” Bucky questioned. 

I let out a low sob. “Yeah. He-uh-he was driving drunk one night and crashed his car into a tree.”

My body shook with fresh tears as the memories began replaying like an old movie in the back of my mind, the wounds tearing open once again. 

Bucky had snuck up next to me, wrapping his arms around me to pull me into his chest. I seeped into him, allowing his soft words of comfort to ease my pain. 

“The images of him hanging out of his car haunt me to this day. I can't go to sleep without seeing him, bloody and cold,” I cried into his chest, hands grasping at his shirt. 

He didn’t say anything, he didn't have too. If anyone understood how I felt, it was Bucky. His large hand rubbed circles on my back while I continued to sob, finally letting go for the first time in so long. I didn’t realize how bad I needed someone to just listen to my problems and comfort me, not criticize how I feel or accuse me of keeping secrets about Rick’s death. 

“His mother blames me,” I muttered into Bucky’s chest. 

“Why?” 

I pulled slightly away from him and looked up into his eyes; they were clouded in sorrow. He cupped my cheek and with his metal thumb wiped the tears away, the coolness of it easing the redness caused by my cries. 

“I couldn’t deal with his drinking any longer. It was ruining our marriage so I told him that he  needed to leave and only come back when he was sober. Rick’s mom didn’t want to believe that he had those demons but he did. I held onto him for so long that I couldn’t take care of him any longer.” 

“He got so good at hiding when he was drunk that I had no idea he was that night. Maybe if I had known, he would still be-.” 

“Hey,” Bucky lifted my chin up to meet his gaze. “You cannot blame yourself for his actions, okay? None of what happened is your fault.” 

I wasn’t so sure if he was talking to me or more so himself. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that knew about The Winter Soldier's past that Bucky had so much trouble not blaming himself for what he did during that time. 

My head pounded from all the crying and I had nothing left in me, emotionally, so all I could do was nod in his grasp. 

“I’m here to help you with whatever you need to get past that guilt, alright?” 

I nodded again. “Thank you, Bucky.” 

He responded by pulling me into his chest once again, allowing me to ease into his comforting touch as he continued to run circles over my back. 

Time had passed, the two of us locked together with my sobs being replaced with constant yawn after yawn. 

Bucky began to pull away. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” 

I squeezed him a bit, not ready to let go. “Few more minutes? I haven't felt this kind of comfort in so long. It’s nice.” 

His lips brushed the top of my head and I melted into him again, my heart beating so hard against my chest I knew not only could he feel it, Bucky could hear it as well. 

“Take all the time you need, doll.” 

My heart fucking soared at the pet name. 

Our laughter bounced off the walls of the complex as Bucky and I both ascended up the staircase towards home. I had been on my way home from work when I bumped into him one block away, with a bouquet of fresh flowers grasped between his metal fingers. 

“You mentioned that you had a rough day at work so I thought these would make it better.” 

His words from when I questioned him about them brought a smile back to my face. 

Ever since that night last month where I told him about Rick, we had grown incredibly close. He was there for me when the nightmares got bad or I needed someone to talk to; with me also returning the favor. 

Even if he was in therapy to deal with his past, I was still by his side to lend an extra ear and a comforting hold. 

If anyone was to ask what we were, I would tell the truth; friends. 

That love to steal longing glances, the occasional flirty banter, and fingers lingering on one's skin longer than normal. 

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to get me flowers, Buck,” I reiterated my words from earlier. 

He shrugged as we turned the corner of the hallway, our apartments coming into view. 

“Anything to bring a beautiful smile to your face,” he mused while throwing an arm over my shoulder. . 

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” I giggled while patting his chest. 

My feet came to a halt when I saw the lone figure leaning against my door, arms crossed in what appeared to be one thing. 

Anger. 

“Barb, hi. What are you doing here?” I asked, confused. 

She shook her head. “Eight years. Today.” 

My heart dropped. Bucky had been such a good thing in my life lately that I had forgotten Rick’s death anniversary was today. 

“Oh.” I muttered. 

Barb scoffed. “That’s all you have to say? What would Rick have to say about this?”

She motioned towards Bucky who still had his arm around me so he quietly slipped away and tried to leave but I gently grasped his arm to stop him. 

“I can go. I’ll talk to you later,” he suggested. 

While I shook my head, Barb’s demeaning voice spoke again. 

“I think that’s a good idea. She doesn’t need you right now.” 

My eyes snapped over towards her. “Excuse me? What gives you the right to speak to him like that?” 

“Doll, it’s alright.” 

“Doll?!” Barb shrieked. “How long has this been going on? What would Rick think?” 

I shook my head in disbelief. “Nothing because he’s dead Barb. Has been for a long time.” 

“I cannot believe you’ve moved on already. He was your husband for god sakes! He loved you dearly and this is how you repay him? Fucking the first man that touched you.” 

Anger radiated off of me, Bucky noticing the way my breath became erratic so he gently laced our fingers together and nodded towards his door. 

“Come on, let’s get inside.” 

In our many talks I had mentioned a few times about how demeaning and cruel my mother in law could be but I put up with it for years because I was married to her son. The constant belittlement from her had knocked me down to my lowest and now that I was finally starting to feel better about everything thanks to his help, Bucky refused to let me get back to that low. 

I held him back with a shake of my head before giving Barb my attention. “I don’t know why you came here. Like I said on the phone last week, I still don’t have the answers you’re looking for, Barb. Whether you want to believe it or not, your son was an alcoholic and it was his actions that night that killed him. I know it’s not easy to hear but Rick is gone and your quest to find answers to questions that don’t exist isn't going to bring him back.” 

Barb shook her head, looking at me bewildered. “No. There’s a witness that was there that night. They said they saw someone in the road before RIck crashed. He swerved so he wouldn’t hit them. Not the lies you’ve been saying!” 

“I’m not lying about anything!” I snapped, mouth ready to spew hateful things towards her. 

Bucky squeezed my hand as if he could read my mind, knowing what I was about to say. 

I took a deep breath to calm myself, knowing that no matter what I said to her Barb would never change her mind. She could never see her son in such a negative light. 

“I don’t know what else to tell you, Barb. But I know that I can’t keep doing this with you; Rick wouldn’t want this. As much as we loved each other, he wanted me to move on. We talked about it all the time that if something happened to one of us that the other wouldn’t dwell on the heartbreak. He had demons, he tried to drown them with alcohol but they knew how to swim.” 

Tears pricked my eyes. “Rick would want me to be happy, to find love with someone else. He would want the same for you.” 

Without another word, I let Bucky lead me inside of his apartment, ready to finally leave Barb in my past. 

“Are you alright?” Bucky questioned once inside. 

I sat on his couch with a soft groan and nodded. “Yeah, it needed to be said. I hate that it took so long though.”

Bucky trekked around his apartment placing the flowers in a vase then grabbing a beer for him and a glass of water for me. I smiled a thanks as he sat next to me, his hand placed on my knee. “I’m sorry for what she said to you,” I frowned. 

He shrugged. “It's nothing you need to apologize for, doll.” 

With his flesh hand on my knee and the metal one lounged on the top of the couch, his fingers inches from my face, I began tracing the gold lines, mesmerized by the design. Before when I would look or touch it, Bucky would flinch because he was afraid of how I would react to it. 

“I don’t understand how you’re not afraid of it,” Bucky wondered. 

“The way I see it,” I began while linking our fingers together, “This arm was your fresh start. Your old one did all of those horrible things and this one has done so much good, you can’t let the weight of the old one hold you back.” 

A smile pulled wide on his face. “Who needs therapy when that advice is free.” 

I giggled with a wink. “Plus, I come with some extra perks.” 

Bucky smiled smugly with his eyes turning dark. “Care to explain what those perks are?

My lips went dry and I rolled my tongue over them, hoping it would help. The intense gaze I felt from Bucky was enough to lock me into place on his couch with my hands now in my lap clasped together in hopes they stopped shaking with nerves. 

They didn't. 

There was something between us, that wasn’t a question. But what exactly, I wasn’t too sure. We would flirt back and forth and have some small touches here and there but that’s all it was. Neither of us were brave enough to take the next step in this relationship. 

I gnawed on my bottom lip while staring in Bucky’s eyes and I noticed the way his breath caught in his throat, unable to move as I slowly, oh so agonizingly slow, closed the distance between us. Meters from his lips, I hesitated though, my warm breath fanning over his plump lips. This close I could see how pink and full they were, practically begging to be kissed; ravished.

Lips parted and ghosting over each other, I could feel the softness against mine and when I glanced up into his gaze I noticed Bucky’s pupils were blown with desire. 

Fuck it. 

I crashed my lips to his in a slow but firm kiss, testing to see if he wanted this as much as I did. Soon we began to meld together, his hands gripping my hips while mine found his broad shoulders, nails digging slightly. He hissed against my lips, the sensation burning low in my core when he repaid the favor by digging his own nails into the bare skin of my back. 

I nibbled on his bottom lip, begging to taste him, and his tongue slipped between my lips, exploring every inch of my mouth and I groaned when the heat expanded from my core all the way to my head, making me dizzy. 

Our breathing had become ragged with desire, wanting to feel every single inch of each other's bodies. Bucky’s flesh hand tangled in my hair while his metal hand lifted me with ease into his lap, sprawling his fingers over the plump of my ass. My own hands ran down his chest, down his stomach to ghost over the belt of his pants before they snaked underneath his shirt, the skin of his stomach hot with lust. 

“Bucky,” I moaned into his mouth when I felt his hips press into mine. 

The hardness of his cock pressed against the confines of his jeans and a low groan echoed into his mouth when he pressed up against my heated core again. 

Bucky’s lips left mine to start biting and nipping at the skin of my neck while I rutted slowly but firm into him. My hands gripped and pulled at his shirt, yanking it off of his head in a snap. I felt him tense under me as my eyes glazed over where the skin and metal of his arm met, the scars still looked fresh to this day. 

I left soft, pepper-like kisses over each scar, letting him know that it didn't bother me. 

“Bucky,” I breathed his name once again. “I need you.” 

He spewed a few curses into the crook of my neck before finally pulling away, locking our lust blown pupils together. “Are you sure about this?” 

I traced a finger down his cheek and scratched at the stubble on his face. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.” 

That was all he needed before tossing me over his shoulder, and carrying me to his bedroom. 

The coolness from his metal fingers felt almost orgasmic on hot skin as we laid next to each other in bed, in a post-climax haze. Bucky’s fingers traced my spine from the top to bottom, over and over again, and he would leave light feathery kisses where his fingers missed. 

It had been a couple weeks since our first kiss and we had been spending most of our time in his apartment since he had the bigger bed but tonight he surprised me by sneaking into my window while I was asleep, wrapping me in a warm embrace. 

“For an ex assassin, you’re still not that quiet,” I muttered into his warm chest. 

“I missed you,” he breathed into my hairline. 

We then proceeded to spend the next hour tangled in between one another. 

Our relationship had blossomed in those few days even if we had decided to take things slow, not needing to rush or put a label on it quite yet. Even though we both knew how we felt about one another. 

His soft lips left the skin of my back and found its new mark on my neck, Bucky continuing the mark he began earlier. 

“Bucky, I’m so tired,” I whined, playfully smacking him away. 

With a fake groan of annoyance, he pulled away not before leaving a kiss on my forehead. 

“I’m going to grab a glass of water then I’ll come back to bed.” 

The dark slumber was within my grasp, fingers dancing towards it, so all I could do was nod in response. The bed shifted with the sudden change in weight and I wrapped the blanket around me, allowing the darkness to fully engulf me but only to be yanked from it a short time later by the sound of glass breaking. 

“Babe, you alright?” 

Silence. 

“Bucky?” 

More silence. 

Pulling my brows together with confusion, I quickly dressed myself in Bucky’s shirt that he had worn over here and walked into the main living space of my apartment expecting to see Bucky cleaning up whatever broke. 

However, I only saw the broken glass from a cup and a picture face down on the ground next to my couch. 

“What the-?” I muttered while picking it up. 

My heart sank when I saw what picture it was; Rick and I on our wedding day. 

I mentally smacked myself because I thought I had taken down whatever was left of Rick in my apartment when Bucky and I started seeing each other. It wasn’t fair to him that I still had pictures or mementos of a past love up. 

“Fucking dumbass. No wonder why he left,” I cursed to myself. 

I scurried back into my room and reached for my phone, typing out a message. 

I’m sorry that you saw that picture. I thought I packed everything up. Can you come back so I can make it up to you?

A few minutes went by with no response so I sent another message. 

Or I can come over there if that’s alright. 

A few more minutes went by with no response from Bucky so with an aggravated groan, I tossed my phone onto my bed with myself falling close behind. 

“Way to fucking blow it, Y/N,” I grumbled while running my hands over my face. 

Two days. Two fucking days Bucky had been ignoring my texts, calls, and persistent knocks to his door. I had been a wave of different emotions the last two days; Anger, confusion, and hurt; mostly hurt. 

I never knew that Bucky had an issue about my past marriage since I talked about it openly with him so much and he helped me heal that part of mind and heart, moving on completely from it; with him. 

The time we spent together was some of the best parts of my life and I would be a fool to say that it meant nothing to me. Bucky had become an important person in my life and the mere thought of losing him forever weighed heavy on my heart. 

A heart that took so long to mend from past heartbreak and loss. A heart that took forever to find that perfect someone to pick up the pieces, make it feel whole; loved. 

I sat up in bed with a start, the blankets falling from my body, when I was slammed with the sudden realization; it hit me so hard I almost fell right back into my bed. 

I was in love with Bucky. 

And I wasn’t going to let him get away. 

Throwing whatever clothes on I could find, I was standing in front of Bucky’s door in less than a minute, knuckles rapidly knocking with no end in sight. 

“Bucky, can you please open the door?” I called through the thick piece of wood. “I really need to talk to you.” 

More knocking followed by more begging. 

“I’m not going anywhere until you let me inside,” I informed him with crossed arms and all of my weight perched on my left foot. 

“Do I have to pull some ex assassin bullshit and sneak in through your window?” 

The door in front of me opened revealing a very tired looking Bucky and I cringed when I remembered that it was almost four a.m. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize what time it was.” I apologized. 

Bucky simply nodded. “It’s alright.” 

He went to shut the door again but I blocked it with an angry hand. “You’re not going to shut me out again. For two fucking days you’ve been ignoring me with no explanation.” 

“Y/N, please-.” 

“No!” I shot. “I don’t know what the hell is going on with you but I don’t deserve to be shut out like this especially after everything we’ve gone through and the things I’ve told you.”

Bucky ran a hand over the subtle on his cheek before nodding, allowing the door to open a bit more with me slipping inside before he could change his mind. I was in such a rush to tell him how I felt that I hadn’t noticed his sleeping attire; a pair of very tight black briefs and his hair was a tousled mess of slumber. 

As breathtaking as he looked, Bucky needed to know how I felt. 

“Did I do something wrong? I know you found that picture of Rick and I.” 

He was quick to dismay my worry. “It wasn’t about the picture.” 

My shoulders raised with confusion. “Then what is bothering you? Is it me, are you over us?” 

“No, doll, trust me.” He hesitated to reach for me. 

“Then tell me why the fuck you’ve been avoiding me?!” I snapped, voice raised in anger. 

“I can’t,” Bucky shook his head, refusing. 

“You’re kidding, right?” I scoffed. 

He was in fact not kidding with the stern face he bore. 

“God, I’m so stupid!” I covered my face with my hands. “I let myself open up to you, let you in my life when I needed someone the most, trusted you with my heart and you ripped it away from me. Right when I started to fall in love with you.” 

Bucky blinked. “Wh-what did you say?” 

Tears pricked my eyes. “I love you, Bucky.” 

“Doll,” he breathed, unsure of what to say next. 

“You don’t feel the same,” I nodded to myself, realizing what his silence meant. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” 

Hasty wiping away the tears, I stormed past him only to be stopped by his metal fingers grasping at my wrist, pulling me into his chest. His lips crashed onto mine in a powerful kiss, tongues quickly finding each other in starvation for each others taste. 

We shared many kisses but this one was different; it was the kind that made you fall to your knees with dizziness. 

A good kind of dizzy. 

“I love you too,” he pressed into my lips. 

My heart jumped into my throat as his revelation. “Then why have you been ignoring me?” 

Bucky stepped back slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you. I wish I would have told you sooner, it might have saved you.” 

“Save me from what?” 

“Falling in love with me,” he linked our fingers together and set me down on the couch. 

We sat with our knees touching and my heart was hammering so loud in my chest I knew Bucky could hear it. My mind raced a million miles a minute with different thoughts of what he had to tell me. 

“The reason why I left the other night was because when I saw that picture, memories came flooding back, almost over taking me,” Bucky began. 

“Memories? Of what?” I pressed. 

Bucky ran a hand through his hair in clear distress. “I know what happened to Rick.” 

I nodded. “Yeah because I told you. He was driving drunk.” 

He disagreed with me. “He wasn’t drunk that night.” 

I looked at him with confusion. “What are you talking about?” 

With one last deep breath, Bucky fully confessed to his past transgression. 

“Rick wasn’t drunk that night. He was sober and driving to meet with the head of the local Hydra group. I don’t know what Rick told you he did for work but whatever it was was a lie. Rick was hired by SHIELD to take back the super soldier serum I had stolen back in the 90’s.” 

My eyes blinked with disbelief. “You’re lying.” 

“I wish I was, doll. I knew who killed Rick.” 

“Who?” I asked, afraid of knowing the truth. 

Bucky hesitated, breath getting caught in his throat, before he spoke with broken words. “The Winter Soldier. And that was me.” 

His bottom lip trembled the same time his nose scrunched up his disgust for his previous actions. 

My whole world came crashing down from the heavens, falling into large pieces of debris around me. My heart was ringing in my ears that I swore I misheard Bucky. Everything I thought I knew about Rick’s death was a lie? Had Barb been right this whole time?

“No,” I stood to my feet with a start. “You’re fucking with me.” 

Bucky reached for my hand but I snatched it away, a look of hurt flashed across his face. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t have a choice,” his broken voice begged me to understand. 

I stopped pacing. “How’d you do it?” 

Bucky refused to answer, only standing to try and get me to stop moving. Anger spilled out of me and I pushed his shoulders to force him back onto the couch. 

“How did you do it?!” I seethed. 

His tongue rolled over his dry lips. “I got in the way of his car so he would have to swerve out of the way. When he crashed, I had to make it look like he was drinking so I injected him with alcohol so it looked like he had been drinking all night.” 

“No,” I sobbed. “This whole time I thought he was at a bar getting fucking wasted and was on his way home when he was actually sober!” 

Bucky flinched but kept his eyes trained at his shaking hands. 

“You fucking left him there to die!” I screamed. “You could have saved him!” 

Bucky was on his feet now, shaking his head rapidly. “It wasn’t me, doll. I swear.” 

“But you still did it!” 

I shoved his chest, hard, and he stumbled back a bit but kept his stance. 

“I wish I never did, Y/N. If I could take back everything I did when I was The Winter Soldier, I would; you know that,” he begged me to listen. 

Sobs plowed through my body causing me to shake and fall to my knees with the truth of what happened that night. The man that I found myself falling in love with had killed my husband. How do you get past that? 

But it wasn’t him. He had no choice.

I screamed at the voice in my mind, telling it to shut up. 

“Doll,” Bucky knelt down to reach for me. 

My fist collided with his cheek knocking him onto his ass and rage took over my vision as I straddled his hips, landing blow after blow to whatever part of flesh I could hit; face, head, neck, chest, stomach, and flesh arm. 

Bucky never stopped me, allowed me to hurt him; try to anyway. The super soldier serum that flowed through his blood every day made it so it felt like he was getting slapped by the wind. 

“Fuck you, Barnes! I hate you!,” I bellowed while going to attack his metal arm. 

In a swift movement, I was now being straddled by Bucky who had both of my hands pinned above my head with his metal fingers gripped tight. Tears fell from his eyes onto the skin of my neck and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

I writhed in his grasp, trying to break free. “I do! You’re a monster, I hate you!” 

When the words left my lips, I immediately regretted them. I knew that he wasn’t a monster, I was only angry at his revelation. I never meant to call him that. Whatever anger I had spilled out of my body through the floor beneath me and I tried to break free once again from Bucky, to reach for him. 

“I didn’t mean it,” I cried. 

He nodded before pulling me into his chest, arms now wrapped around me. He hushed my cries with whispers of sorrow and promised to make it right; make everything right with me and us again. 

“I love you, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

My hands clutched at the muscles of his back, my own words being muffled by his chest. 

How could anything be right with us again with me now knowing the truth? Nothing would ever be the same. 

[ariascoven]

⟡ LOST BUNNY PT.2

PAIRING : salem!agatha harkness x reader

CONTENT / WARNINGS : female reader. petnames (bunny, dear, darling). soft agatha. mentions of homophobia.

WORD COUNT : 4.3k

A/N : sorry for not posting for i-don't-know-how-long, i hate everything i write these days lmao this has been sitting on my drafts for ages until i decided to let it out of the cave. i mostly have the energy to make bots as they're waayyyy shorter than fics so i end up making a bunch, sorry

MY MASTERLIST | PART ONE | C.AI BOT

The sound of birds happily chirping filled your ears the moment you stepped outside of your small, humble little home while carrying your picnic basket. Your mother had asked you to go fetch some apples for the pie she planned on making. Somehow, she managed to get all the ingredients needed beforehand, but forgot the damned apples — for an apple pie. At least you knew where your forgetful nature came from.

As you wandered through the woods in silence, you couldn't help but remember your first and last encounter with Agatha Harkness. A hidden, secret part of you buried deep within your being hoped, perhaps even wished that you would bump into the witch again, but your dreams never became reality. During every mind clearing stroll you took at night, your eyes darted around anxiously, scanning the surroundings and trying to find the brunette with a smug grin on her face, her pretty face illuminated by the moonlight and stars above. If anyone saw you in that state, they would assume you were afraid of what lurked in the dark, when in reality you were looking for Salem’s most feared witch.

It was ridiculous, to say the least. Months had passed ever since the unexpected meeting occured, it was now summer and the snow you had stepped on in the company of the young witch had melted completely ages ago. But the feeling of her hands on your waist seemed to have burned onto your skin, making it impossible to forget the warmth of her touch. You could still feel her, hear her... hell, you could still smell her. You often tried to convince yourself that she had put a spell on you that day, and that you were not absolutely smitten. But you knew the truth, no matter how much you didn't want to admit it — you were utterly fucked. You had met her once and had a brief conversation that was infuriating, to say the least, and that was enough to make you fall. Well, she also gave you a coat.

It might be important to note that your plan to make up an excuse about the piece of clothing to tell your mother failed completely. You weren't able to come up with anything before you reached the worn out door of your house, where you were met with the familiar sight of an upset old lady that noticed her daughter was missing from the warmth of her bed hours ago and decided to wait for the rebellious creature and demand an explanation. You had no friends, so you couldn't say it was a gift from one. For obvious reasons, you couldn't say you had bought it yourself as your mother knew that in your condition, buying a great coat like the one you had on was nothing but an impossible, silly dream.

So you had no choice but tell her the truth you wished to keep hidden, all of it. You spent almost a whole hour sitting on a chair, your head downcast shamefully as your mother scolded you, her voice laced with nothing but pure disappointment and annoyance. “She's a witch, for God's sake! She killed her own mother and the rest of her coven! Why would you even look her way? And even more accept this so-called gift?” However, she allowed you to keep the coat, knowing it was warmer and better quality than your entire wardrobe combined. Filled with guilt and shame, you gave your dear old mother a kiss on the forehead and assured her you would keep your distance if you ever stumbled upon the witch again. What a lie.

Crouched down picking a few berries you had found, you hummed a random tune you had never heard before. The berries were not what your mother had asked of you, but you shrugged it off, allowed to easily fetch the apples afterwards. The basket was big enough to fit all without a problem, and extra fruit was never a problem — you were sure your mother would be excited to make something out of the berries, anyway. You let out a satisfied hum at the amount you had picked, ascending from the crouching position. When you turned around, a yelp escaped your lips the moment you saw her. “Agatha!” Your eyes were comically wide as you exclaimed, face growing warmer at the realization you weren't even able to try and hide your excitement.

“Hello, bunny. You seem pleased to see me.” God, the way you missed her voice was nothing but pathetic. You let out a huff and rolled your eyes in a failed attempt to seem unbothered, but unfortunately, you were not an actress. A smirk appeared on the brunette’s face when she took notice of the subtle pink dusting your cheeks. “Ah, there is no need to respond. Not with that adorable blush saying everything.” When you looked up at her, your bottom lip was curled up ever so slightly, forming an adorable pout that made Agatha feel unwanted things — the flutter in her stomach being one of them, for example.

She stepped closer to you until the tips of your boots were touching hers, hand reaching up to rub her thumb across your bottom lip in a gentle caress. Almost instinctively and definitely against your will, your mouth fell open at the touch. You wished you could pull away and keep your distance from her, there was nothing you wished more. But something about the young woman pulled you in like a moth to a flame — a dangerously enchanting flame that made you crave more of its touch, no matter how much it threatened to burn and swallow you whole.

“How did you find me?” Your question came out as a breathless sound and you cursed yourself mentally at the poor attempt to hide the undeniable shakiness in your voice. Your knuckles hurt from the way you were gripping the basket as you tried to mask how much you were trembling — and you weren't entirely sure why. Maybe from excitement. Maybe from anxiety. Maybe from a mix of both. You noticed the way Agatha’s gaze seemed to search for yours more and more insistently the longer you avoided eye contact. She opened her mouth to respond with what you expected to be another snarky remark of hers, but she faltered, mouth quickly closing.

However, she didn't take much time to compose herself, that wicked and familiar grin returning to her lips and sending shivers down your spine. Considering how surprisingly hot the weather was during the summer, Agatha’s fingers remained cold as she tilted your chin up — freezing, even. And exactly the way you remembered them to be. You lost count of how many times you had harshly rubbed your sponge against the places she had touched on your body during your long baths, trying everything and anything you possibly could to make the memories disappear from your mind. But you kept thinking back at it whenever the chance appeared and you were ashamed to admit, even to yourself, how much you wanted her.

Considering how hot it was during the summer, Agatha’s fingers remained surprisingly cold as she tilted your chin up — freezing, even. Exactly the way you remembered. You lost count of how many times you harshly rubbed your sponge on the places she had touched on your body during your baths, trying everything and anything you possibly could to make the memories disappear from your mind. But you kept thinking back at it whenever the chance appeared. Before bed, waking up, while taking strolls around the town but mostly, in the woods you had your first meeting at. You were ashamed to admit, even to yourself, how much you wanted her.

“What? You think I found you because I wanted to?” She replied, the mocking evident in the tone of her voice and her raised eyebrow. With the proximity between your faces, you could almost taste the sarcasm that dripped from her lips. “It was simply a funny coincidence, my dear.” Your eyes scanned her face for any signs of honesty and widened the moment she leaned closer, her nose touching yours. The only thing you were able to do was hold your breath and anticipate her next move.

There was no way she was going to kiss you, right? Although the answer was pretty much clear, you couldn't help the flicker of disappointment that flashed through your eyes when all she did was chuckle low in her throat and pull away, taking a few steps backwards to put some sort of distance between your bodies. It was funny, the way you wanted that distance so badly at first but now it brought a frown so big to your face that missing it wasn't even a possibility.

Your eyes followed her gaze as she glanced down and towards the basket your hands were clutching. Or rather, the fingers that were a deep shade of red, knuckles turning white from the sheer force you put into holding the small object out of nervousness without even realizing it. You hadn't even realized the way you could barely feel your hands due to the gesture. You let out a loud groan full of frustration, deciding it was a better idea to hang it onto your arm instead of gripping it. Agatha’s curious (or rather, nosy) eyes focused on the content inside of the basket. “Berries…” She muttered quietly, and you weren't sure if she meant for you to hear it.

“Yes, berries.” You repeated as you eyed her curiously, her gaze never faltering from the fruits. It should be illegal to say Agatha Harkness looked adorable, but she did. Her unusual demeanor and sparkling eyes made you tilt your head aside as if the simple gesture would help you solve the current mystery — why would an evil witch become so seemingly excited over some stupid berries? You clicked your tongue in thought before grabbing a few and putting your hand out. “Do you…?” You don't finish the sentence, instead looking at your palm then back at Agatha as you trailed off. There was a pause. Then, she nodded, snatching the fruits from your hands and shoving them down her mouth. Your eyes widened at her enthusiasm, but the surprise soon turned into amusement and you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head.

Agatha’s gaze moved back up towards you, and it was difficult to take her seriously with the way her eyebrows were furrowed and lips were stained red from the berries — like a child who is still learning how to eat properly. “What are you laughing at?” She almost growled. It was clear to see that the witch was trying to seem menacing and scary, as she always did. But unfortunately for her, it seems looking evil when your eyes are shining with happiness while your mouth is full is incredibly hard. You waved a dismissive hand and shook your head once more as your giggles died down, a sigh falling from your lips. She looked at you with suspicion, reaching up to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Your face scrunched up slightly. “What?” She questioned, sounding rather annoyed.

“You just don't know how to not make a mess, huh?” You nagged with the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on your lips as you grabbed the checkered fabric your mother had given you to cover the fruit basket and that was long forgotten. You handed it to her — handed as in shoved it into her hand and gestured towards her mouth with a wave of your hand. “Clean that up, you are looking more like a toddler rather than a feared witch.” The sight of Agatha Harkness herself frowning pathetically was the most amusing thing you had ever seen in your life. You pushed away the thoughts of how cute she looked as you watched her clean her lips and cheeks grumpily. When she tried to give the piece of fabric back to you, you pushed it back against her chest. “Keep it. As a treat.” You joked, continuing your mission to find apples for your mother’s pie.

Agatha snickered and her lips curled up into an amused smirk at your comfortableness in teasing her, being ao used to people running away from her for simply being her. She stayed behind and watched as your figure continued the path, the dark shade of purple of her dress contrasting with the hint of red from the fabric you gave her, poking out of her pocket after she had folded it lazily and shoved it there. For Agatha’s immense displeasure, you were an incredibly fast walker, but she quickly caught up to you.

Her arms were behind her back and she whistled in feigned innocence, strolling just a few steps behind you. You rolled your eyes as you heard the melody, but a smile was playing on your lips. Your mother would kill you if she found out about this, about you hanging out with the woman you promised her to keep your distance from. You quickly pushed those thoughts away the moment you saw the apple trees ahead, full of life and covered in sweetness. As you stepped closer, a gasp fell from your lips at how beautifully red the fruits looked. “Ah, mother will love those!” You exclaimed happily, mostly to yourself, an arm stretching to grab the apples that were in a level where you could reach.

Harkness grabbed one of the juicy fruits as well, bringing it to her nose and inhaling the marvelous scent with an approving hum. “These look delicious. You said your mother will love them?” She raised an eyebrow with curiosity-filled eyes, leaning back against the tree nonchalantly and taking a bite out of the apple she held in her hand. You hummed and nodded in agreement, side eyeing her for just a split second as you continued to fill the basket. “Well, do you think your mother would be so kind as to spare me some apples?” She said playfully, batting her eyelashes in a dramatic manner. You scoffed.

“Well, my mother made me promise I would never talk to you again. Want to take a guess?” You didn't look at her as you spoke, but you could practically see the frown on her face with the way she let out a long, annoyed hum. “Don't take it personally, she would make me promise to stay away from any witch ever.” You tried to sugarcoat it, even though you knew she probably didn't care at all. There was a pause.

Without a word, she stared at you with suspicious interest, those icy blue orbs roaming over your figure as she studied you with narrowed eyes, seemingly trying to find the final piece of a puzzle she longed to solve. “Mind telling me why you are breaking the promise you made to your dear mother, then?” The question came out quietly, as if it was a secret that no one other than you two were allowed to hear. Your movements faltered, hand freezing just as your fingers had wrapped around the last apple that was on your reaching level. You cleared your throat, finally snatching the fruit and shoving it inside the picnic basket.

“I guess,” you began, the almost whispered words leaving your lips slowly as you contemplated what you should say. “Your company doesn't bother me. Much.” You looked her way as you put emphasis on the last part, which elicited a chuckle from her. The brunette observed as you moved next to her and leaned against the tree before sliding down until you were sitting on the grass. You placed the basket on your lap and stretched out your legs with a long and loud groan.

After a moment, Agatha repeated your movement and plopped down onto the ground while holding her skirt securely. Your gaze fell upon the fabric you had given her poking out of the pocket of her dress and then moved up back to her face. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw her already staring at you, her palm supporting her chin as her elbow rested on top of her knees, which were pulled against her chest. Your mind wandered back to your first encounter, in which she had said she wasn't an ordinary girl, nor like you. But seeing her like this, so calm and quiet, she really did look like just an ordinary 18 year old girl.

A hand dived inside the basket and grabbed a few more berries before handing them to Agatha, who gratefully accepted the offer. An unexpectedly comfortable silence washed over the two of you as the witch ate calmly — this time, taking her time to savor the sweet taste. The gentle breeze made her hair sway subtly, and you thought the sight was breathtaking. Fists clenched around the fabric of your skirt as you tried to hold back from the sudden urge to just… touch her. Make sure she was real, that she really was there with you. Since you never saw the young woman after your first encounter, your mind had became a mess of thoughts as you wondered if what happened in the woods actually did happen or was just a fever dream — a fever dream that felt a bit too real.

“Why so many apples, anyway?” The sound of her voice breaking the soothing silence forced you to come back to reality and turn to face her, confusion splattered across your features. She gestured to the basket with a nod of her head, noticing the way you looked lost in thought as she handed you the last berry she had in her hand. “So many apples. Are you baking something?” She didn't miss the way you took and ate the fruit in agonizingly slow movements, as if you were doing anything to not answer the question. She didn't blame you, she was used to it — and she didn't miss the hint of regret that flashed through your eyes when you mentioned your mother earlier. People had always warned you, saying that you should be careful when giving any information to witches, no matter how unimportant it might be. But before she could open her mouth to say you didn't need to give her an answer, you finally spoke up.

“My mother is.” You answered simply, the sound of your voice coming out as a quiet, almost shameful confession as you leaned your head back against the tree and looked up at the leaves hanging from the branches above. “I'm a disaster.” She raised a brow at your statement, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she waited for you to give more details. You looked at her and let out a small giggle. “I'm not exaggerating — I wish I was, but I'm literally banned from the kitchen at home.” The loud laughter that escaped the witch’s lips as she threw her head back forced a smile out of you, the sound making something flutter inside you.

“You— oh, goodness! Are you serious?” She panted out between giggles and laughed even more after you nodded in confirmation, her hand moving to clutch her side as she felt the threat of a cramp forming. “I'm gonna get a side cramp!”

There was only one word to describe your state as you watched the scene unfolding in front of you, and that word was fascinated. Was it weird to be obsessed with someone's laugh? Maybe it was, maybe you were weird, after all. But you simply couldn't help it, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners as the cutest sound left her lips. The so-called evil witch, Agatha Harkness, rather a monster than a woman, a girl, even, that had no feelings nor a heart, laughing so beautifully. You lost count of how many beats your heart skipped, pink lips parting in pure awe. God, you wished you could paint her at that moment, eyes scanning over her features in an attempt to memorize it. She seemed to notice your behavior, her laughter dying down as her face twisted into an intrigued expression. You felt a blush dusting your cheeks at being caught, a shy smile appearing on your face before you looked away, gaze focusing on the ground instead.

She tilted her head to the side then scooted closer to you, so close you could feel her leg resting comfortably against yours. You felt your cheeks heat up at the simple touch, and you mentally cursed yourself for being so easily affected by the woman — although a part of you knew anyone would be if they were in your shoes. Her face leaned closer to yours as she searched for your eyes, and when they met hers, she smiled. It made your heart skip several beats. It wasn't her usual smug grin or teasing smirk, no. It was a genuine and beautiful smile, and you were sure you could die happily at that moment, with the sight in front of you as the last thing you saw before the curtains closed. “You're so shy all of a sudden. Was it something I did, darling?”

Darling. God, the sweet names she called you made you crave her even more. You wondered if she only called you those things, or if she did it with everyone, ignoring the way you hated the simple thought of the second option being correct. “It's just—” you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, stopping yourself from speaking any further. More silence. Your body was set on fire when the familiar coldness of her fingers lingered against your skin as she brushed a lost strand of hair behind your ear, and you noticed the way she seemed to touch you for a bit longer than considered necessary. You cleared your throat, feeling a lump forming. “Your laugh.” You said simply, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

She let out an amused, soft chuckle. “Didn't expect to hear me laugh, hm?” She asked teasingly, her hand now resting on your shoulder.

“Didn't expect to like the sound of it this much.” Crap. Your eyes widened as soon as the unwanted words left your mouth against your will.

Agatha looked stunned, perfectly shaped eyebrows shooting up in pure surprise. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever told her in ages — perhaps, even in her entire life. You couldn't believe your eyes as you took notice of the light, almost unnoticeable shade of pink that appeared on Agatha’s cheeks. The hand on your shoulder slid down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps on its wake. It settled next to your own hand that rested on top of the basket laying on your lap. Your whole body tingled when her pinky brushed against yours in a teasing touch. You finally had the courage to look up at Agatha again, butterflies forming on your stomach at the way your gazes met and the small, maybe shy smile that she sent your way. Your hand was shaking with nervousness, but that wasn't enough to stop you from linking your pinky with hers.

A small gasp escaped from Agatha’s lips at the gentle gesture, gaze darting down to your entwined fingers. The moment your head came to rest on her shoulder was the moment the witch realized that you would be the death of her — but she would never complain, laying her head against yours. You stayed like that for what seemed to be an eternity, simply relishing in each other’s company and touch, the comfortable silence from earlier making an appearance once again. “To be fair with you, I didn't expect to enjoy your company as much, either.” She finally broke the silence, voice sounding so soft it was hard to believe it came from Agatha Harkness herself. Your mind was racing and heart thumping against your chest so fast you really thought you would have a heart attack for a split moment.

That's when you remembered why you had even left your house that day — apples, pie, your mother who awaited you at home. You hesitated before breaking the contact and ascending from the ground, dusting off the skirt of your dress. Agatha frowned at the lost touch and repeated the movements with a hint of annoyance. The sun was starting to set and your lips pursed into a firm line upon realization you would get a scolding when you got back home. “It's getting late, Agatha. I should really go now. Mother would be furious if I took any longer.” The pang of sadness and disappointment at the words leaving your own lips stung like hell. Realizing Agatha wasn't going to say anything in response, just staring at you with an unreadable expression on her face, you stepped closer to her and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on the soft skin of her cheek.

You turned on your heels and started walking away, fighting the urge to glance back over your shoulder, knowing that looking at her would make you turn back around. What if it took even longer to see the witch again than the first time did? What if your mother found out? Not only would you feel her anger for breaking your promise, she would be even angrier at the way you were so affectionate with another woman. You had mentioned your attraction towards women to her briefly once, but quickly learned to never do it again and pretend it was just a mistake, something your confused mind made you believe was real. But it never went away, and it never would. But you hid yourself with bitterness, being the good example of a daughter you always had been. The sound of the familiar voice snapped you away from your thoughts, body whipping around to face the young woman.

“Shall I see you again?” Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet as she questioned and took a small, hesitating step forward, which did nothing to the still significant distance between the two of you. You couldn't help the bright smile that formed on your face, nodding enthusiastically in response. She smiled back, a hint of something that looked like relief playing across her features. The realization made you feel special, worthy.

“Tomorrow, same place and time?” Agatha’s heart raced at your words and she nodded slowly, trying the best she could to hide her happiness. Never in her life did she expect to be smitten by a woman she met twice. But, oh, she was. Unbeknownst to you, during your time away, Agatha also couldn't stop thinking about you. Her mind wandered back to your first encounter more times than she could count, and knowing she would see you again filled her with an unfamiliar sense of happiness. She couldn't wait to see you again, waving goodbye even as you turned your back to her.

[joocomics]

LONG STORY SHORT

─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special 2024 ⋆༄

✭ event is 18+ only

pairing: non-idol!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: smut w/ plot ── 8.5k words

when christmas comes around you know your emotions will be all over the place, because the one thing your parents look forward to the most, is inviting their best friends whose son kim jungsu is the guy you try to not think about unless you want to make your standards even higher, and your chances to find a boyfriend soon - lower. one sleepless night turns into an opportunity to look back on some shared memories, but to also tell each other things both of you believed will remain unsaid...

✎… childhood friends au, friends to lovers trope, soft!dom!jungsu, sprinkle of fluff and comfort, protected sex, lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, pet names, size kink (big dick!jungsu), size training, praise kink, oral sex (f!rec)

🎧 now playing… mushroom chocolate - quin, 6lack ; fuck up the friendship - leah kate ; be my baby - ariana grande ; lovefool - the cardigans ; are we still friends? - tyler, the creator

( event masterlist )

“Do you think he’s still single?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmmm...” Your friend on the other line goes silent for a second. “I don’t see any pictures of him with a girl so far.”

“Are you lurking on his Instagram account right now???”

“I’m not lurking,” she calmly explains herself as you continue pacing around the room. Waiting. “I’m getting familiar with the guy that’s about to spend a night in your house. See if there’s anything suspicious that we should know about.”

“Jungsu is the most harmless guy I know.”

“I know you grew up together, but you haven’t talked about him a lot. I’m curious.”

You pick up a noise from outside and you peek through the window only to see the familiar car of Jungsu’s parents parking in front of your house.

“Shit, he’s here!” Your voice comes out barely audible.

It’s like you had to see it with your own two eyes to believe it - to believe that he’s really going to be in front of you just like before. Till now, it has been just a possibility that may or may not happen which is ridiculous of you to think that way - you always spend the Christmas holidays together.

There’s no Christmas without Kim Jungsu.

You tell your friend you’re gonna text her when you can and she giggles through one sly “have fun!” before hanging up.

You inhale a deep breath to control your heart rate; it already quickens before you even hear the doorbell ring.

It feels just like last year. Or slightly more intense, judging by how much you are overthinking the moment he’s going to walk through the front door.

There’s an echo inside your head; Why? Why? Why? But your brain cannot ponder the question right at this point of time. Not when you’re this giddy with excitement to see one of your closest friends again, but also nervous to face your first love - though unrequited, it still turned you into the biggest hopeless romantic. You wouldn’t be the person you are right now without it.

You and Jungsu grew up together after all; you’ve shared so many things - from toys and lunch boxes to living on the same street. Even after you entered high school and started hanging out in two separate friend groups, you continued walking to school every morning together, only to wait for each other at the bus stop and return home together too. It was your tradition; a habit that your evolving interests and social lives couldn’t break.

Until you started college here, and he - three hours away - and you started drifting apart, texting each other only on special occasions or if provoked by an Instagram post, and ending birthday calls with you should visit me sometime, but neither of you ever did.

Maybe if his parents didn’t move to a different distanced neighbourhood as soon as the first school year started you would’ve stayed more in touch now. He would’ve been able to drop by your door for an hour every time he visits during semester breaks.

Maybe…

You’re about to run upstairs so it doesn’t look like you’ve been waiting for his arrival when your mom calls out for you to come back and stop being rude.

You keep your distance in the hallway with heart racing, breath hitched in your throat and eyes inspecting the scene in front of you. Your mom welcomes the guests warmly one by one and you do the same while helping out by taking the Christmas presents inside.

Jungsu walks in last, with a big backpack hanging from his broad shoulders and a navy blue beanie on his head. The hallway turns extra smaller now that he’s inside too, trying to make his way without pushing anyone to the ground.

As he patiently waits for his parents to take off their shoes and head to the living room so he can move around freely, he keeps staring at the floor, too flustered by your mother’s compliments on how handsome he’s become to look up. Once she’s had enough of admiring him and steps back, his eyes shift curiously in search to look for you.

They easily spot you, standing speechless in the corner, and although you take a second to react, his eyes crinkle into a smile on the instant.

You notice the soft upturn of the corners of his mouth, then the flush caused by the cold air on his cheeks and nose which you’ve always been fond of.

Next, you feel his puffer jacket is freezing, because you shudder after he embraces you into a hug.

That’s when the world around you finally stills.

“Your hair!” You gasp as you take a proper look at him after he removes the beanie.

“Hi to you too.” Jungsu chuckles softly.

He blinks at you few times with surprise as he takes a second to comprehend your astonished reaction; to acknowledge the small changes in your appearance. They’re something minor, but surely they are there, or he wouldn’t be feeling the need to stop what he’s doing and question what exactly feels different.

“You’ve never had such short hair before,” you note, hiding hands in the pockets of your jeans to suppress the urge to run fingers through what seems like a fresh haircut.

“Should I take this as a compliment or…”

“I mean, I just saw that you pretty much still suck at taking compliments so,” you shrug shoulders meanwhile Jungsu presses lips at the sight of your sarcastic face, because he cannot deny that observation of yours, “but I do like it.”

“You look good too.”

Your stomach makes a somersault and you look away, but seconds before you do, your face earns a glow that Jungsu does not miss out on noticing.

You thought that after such a jolly evening you’re going to fall asleep the moment you get into your bed, but turns out the lingering exciment keeps you awake and energised for longer.

It’s almost two in the morning when you go downstairs and make out some noise coming from the living room. Lights flicker in the darkness as you step in to discover that it’s not all coming from the decorated Christmas tree, it’s also Jungsu’s laptop. It’s resting on the coffee table with something playing in low volume as he’s occupying the entire couch by laying comfortably on his side.

You’re about to tiptoe when you see him shooting a curious glance over his shoulder the moment you close the door.

“Why are you awake?” He asks; his voice is not drowsy at all.

“I can’t fall asleep and got thirsty.”

Jungsu’s attention leaves the screen, suddenly too compelled by the appearance of your silhouette in front of him.

He reminds himself that you’re one of his best friends as he acknowledges the beauty of your legs illuminated from the glowing desktop screen; they force his eyes to follow every small movement of your hips and to travel up your figure, noticing more parts of you for the very first time. You’re one of his best friends, but last year you weren’t wearing such little shorts… so exposing…

He needs to stop before it gets obvious and awkward.

“You?” You’re still standing up, taking another sip of water before placing the cup on the table.

“Same here,” Jungsu murmurs. Sighing, he sits up, then lifts his arms to stretch.

His plain white shirt rides up his body, exposing a sliver of his lower abdomen. Your eyes fixate right upon it, staring at the waistband of his sweats that’s resting loosely on his waist too.

The cold water does not do anything to stop the heat from enveloping your body. Maybe it’s perhaps the reason you take longer to direct your shameless stare somewhere else; now, there’s also a dangerous train of thoughts settling in your mind as you capture the intimate view.

“Severance?” You step forward to take a peek at what he’s watching in order to stop yourself while you still got time. “You got taste.”

“Have you seen it?” Jungsu raises brows as you sit down next to him.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty good mindfuck, isn’t it?”

Your question is followed by an unexpected notification from your phone that buzzes in your hand.

What ends up pleasantly surprising you is not the person who’s texting you, though, but the particular way in which Jungsu shows interest in them.

“Who’s thinking about you at this hour?”

Still to this day, he always listens to you share what you’re up to with genuine interest, and you listen to him do the same too, but with slightly different emotions you can bet. These few hours of alone time you get during the holidays are the moments when you learn new things about him as well, things that you probably wouldn’t have known otherwise, and as silly as it may sounds… sometimes those moments make you feel melancholic.

You’re happy that he found the place where he belongs, but you also miss him.

“Uhm, a friend of a friend…” You mumble, putting your phone away. “He texts me once in a while.”

“Do you like him?” Jungsu asks despite noticing the casual way you ignored the message.

“Not like that.” You suppress a chuckle. “He’s funny and nice to chat with, but that’s all.”

“So you like someone else?”

You stare at his familiar side profile as he continues to pay attention to the episode at the same time.

As if he feels your gaze lingering on his skin, Jungsu looks in your direction.

You swiftly switch your expression from astounded to laid back and unbothered by these straightforward questions - you were definitely not prepared for them whatsoever.

“Why are you the only one asking questions?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu turns his gaze away from you again, letting the corners of his lips to slide up discreetly, “if there’s anything you want to ask me, go ahead.”

You hesitate for a moment. There are multiple things you’d like to know the answers of, but what if you don’t ask correctly and he gets the wrong impression?

Unsure if it’s the fact he’s not facing you or if it’s because it’s past midnight, your heart feels calm, allowing you to just go for it.

“Are you seeing or talking to someone right now?” You carefully focus on him as you don’t want to miss out on his next expression.

He barely makes one though.

“Nope,” he replies, keeping his eyes on the scene as he adds: “but there’s a girl I find pretty cute, I think.”

After you remain silent for a short moment, only releasing a quiet oh of surprise, Jungsu guides his vision to you and keeps it there.

“So you like funny guys, but humour and communicative skills is not everything.” His figure droops down a bit, letting him rest his head back comfortably against the couch. “What else are you looking for in a guy?”

“Well…” you sigh, as if though there’s an entire detailed list of qualities in your mind; it makes the boy snicker. “I want him to be a gentleman. Trustworthy and kind. I need to know I can tell him anything and I want to be the only girl he thinks about.” You give him one wary look, just in case. It’s clear he’s heeding your words that only speed up as you ramble. “I also like when they take care of their bodies… I like broad shoulders and nice arms. Pretty lips too.”

“Mmm,” Jungsu nods while letting all of that sink in, “well, they can’t work for pretty lips at the gym, you know?”

“I know, I just added that in.” A grin appears on your face as you lean against the back of the couch with one shoulder, but soon after it disappears. “My friends always tell me I need to lower my standards, do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t really think you have high standards to begin with.” Jungsu examines your expression carefully since your tone does not come out as lighthearted as it was a moment ago. He’s aware you’re referring to something more serious that must be bothering you. “That’s exactly how a guy should treat you. If he doesn’t, then you need to cut him off.”

You smile as a sign of appreciation, feeling your heart beating with joy too.

“We’ve had a similar conversation before, do you remember?”

“We have?”

Jungsu’s face scrunches a bit as he goes down memory lane, but you already have the exact moment replaying in your head, as if it was yesterday. Severance is now forgotten, but still going in low volume.

“Yeah, after we graduated.” The images of the two of you in his room warm your heart as you cast your mind back to that sunny afternoon. “We were at your house and you were bragging about the new camera your parents had just bought you to get you excited for college.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Just a litttle bit.” You quickly dismiss his denial and Jungsu laughs without saying anything more so you can continue. “We were imagining how our first boyfriend and girlfriend would be like. We were visualising their appearance, wondering how and where we would meet them and all.”

You can tell Jungsu begins to recall the event once you see him cover his face with both hands. His muffled groan of embarrassment amuses you a lot - why is he being flustered all of a sudden?

“Yeah, yeah, we did…” He mumbles in his palms before leaning back again. He seems to be lost in thought for a moment. “My first girlfriend wasn’t anything like that by the way.”

“My first boyfriend was anything but that,” you declare right after him as you burst laughing at the same time.

You grin at each other, feeling a sense of comfort from the mutual understanding.

The silence you find yourselves in again isn’t perplexing as it gives the two of you a chance to dive into more shared memories that are suddenly scattered in your minds. You reflect on differents parts of them without paying attention to the gaps that eventually start to multiply as the months pass by.

“We were so curious then,” Jungsu speaks up first; his voice drops lower as he muses, “about relationships, drinking, sex…”

Undeniably, the last word catches you off guard. You don’t comment right away, because you start to ponder about the same with cheeks tinged with blush.

“We couldn’t wait to see what all those experiences are going to feel like.”

“Yeah, that’s how we were.” You agree, keeping your fingers busy with the hem of your shorts.

“Y/N…”

As you were staring down at your lap, your eyes snap back at the sound of your name and you meet Jungsu’s gaze; it seems to shine more softly now, or that’s just the nostalgia in your chest.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he says with voice laced in something bittersweet, “and I really think you deserve more than just a funny guy.”

You feel something around you shift and you’re unsure of how to handle it just yet. It’s like whatever was building up in the air during your conversation is now swirling, making you giddy and unsteady.

You thank him, acknowledging how weak your voice is once it leaves your mouth, but you can’t do anything about it.

Neither of you breaks eye contact - is it because neither of you is bold enough to do it first or because neither of you wants to put an end to it in the first place? You can’t tell.

Jungsu’s eyes make the first movement in order to peek at your parted lips and just as quickly return to your fluttering lashes.

“I mean it,” he whispers, sliding his hand your way.

The tips of his fingers are centimeters away from your knee, resting on the cushion; one small move and you will feel their touch, but they remain still and courteous.

As your body is tempted to get closer, your heart starts to thump faster - not to warn you or stop you from the decision you’re about to make, but to remind you of how much exactly you want it.

You want him. It’s a scary thought, but perhaps, every love seems scary when it arises from friendship.

It all happens in a matter of two seconds - you cut the distance, Jungsu’s gentle hand moves on your thigh and you kiss him.

If a moment ago you were feeling dazed, then now, as your mouths get in contact for the first time ever, you’re feeling absolutely under the influence. You’re feeling intoxicated by the softness of his lips; how they move like they’ve got yours memorised already, as if he was using that moment of silence to study them perfectly.

In a way his lips feel… familiar, as ridiculous it may sound, but the spark they bring you is strong nevertheless.

Until you back away in panick from your impulsive actions. Your heart is threatening to burst out.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry—“

“Come here,” Jungsu says under his breath and pulls you over his lap.

What follows after you straddle him doesn’t come close to the mellow kiss from earlier.

It looks and feels times more intense as Jungsu’s fingers grip on your waist beneath the fabric of your loose shirt. The way they explore anywhere they can reach, causing every spot they glide against to heat up, provokes the rush to rise in your tummy.

Your tongues roll against one another after you allow him to separate your lips; the delightful dance turns into a french kiss that you would’ve never imagine having with him one day.

Jungsu’s lips slowly detach, sighing as he finds out you’re not wearing any bra underneath. His hands cautiously retrieve to your hips, making you wonder what could be going through his head right now.

Is his mind calm? Or is it jittery like his heart that’s racing… you can feel it as you keep your hands on his chest.

“Should we…”

“Keep going?” He finishes your question after glancing at you. “Only if that’s what you want.”

You stop biting your lip and chuckle silently at his words. You thought what you want is pretty obvious and you find his wariness sweet.

“I want it.” You confess; slowly, so each letter sinks in his brain as you lean forward only to provoke him to kiss you deeply once more.

That’s when you feel a sudden movement beneath you - a quick twitch, right between your legs that has you smiling coyly against his flushed lips.

“I don’t have any condoms in me.” He realises quietly while staying close to your mouth, swiping your bottom lip gently with his thumb. It’s like he cannot get enough of their plushness, their texture and taste.

When you lock eyes it becomes clear you’re thinking of the same thing.

“We can still go upstairs though.” The same finger that was tracing the shape of your lips now presses against your shorts, rubbing tenderly up and down exactly where you feel the irresistible heat looming from. The pleasure is barely there, and yet, it still makes you hold your breath. “I can make you feel nice in different ways... Unless you prefer to wait.”

He’s not saying this to tease you or to try to be flirtatious; you can see it in the genuine way he looks at you. Jungsu has never been like the rest.

Truthfully, like is a weak choice of word for what you feel about him.

You shake head right before you roll your hips against him, eager to feel more. You don’t want to wait; you can’t.

“Let’s go.”

Jungsu reaches behind you and shuts his laptop.

You can’t tell how many minutes you spend in your bed just kissing; laying beneath him like this - with legs intertwined and lips going numb against each other - has turned time into something nonexistent. And his scent, familiar and so comforting, has put you in some sort of trance that you don’t want to escape from.

What has Jungsu leaving your mouth is his hand that ghosts over one of your breasts; the subtle feeling of your nipple poking through the fabric tempts him into giving it a light squeeze. Your figure starts reacting excitedly as he continues to caress it under the blouse, occasionally circling your nipple with his thumb.

Those cute responses against his hovering body make him move lower so he can scatter kisses on other places too. He wants to taste as much of you as possible.

Blissful sighs slip from your tongue as Jungsu’s puffy lips press against many different parts of your skin; his hands touch wherever his mouth can’t reach. The subtle way the tip of his tongue starts teasing the area between your bellybutton and the hem of your shorts causes your spine to bend from pleasant shockwaves.

His hands remain on your hips, but they seem to hesitate to continue when your eyes meet.

“I want to know you’re not going to regret this.”

You move one hand to his face that’s contorted with a mixture of emotions - one you’re perfectly familiar with the meaning of.

“I’m not, I promise.” You utter as your fingers finally get lost in his hair. “Can you say the same?”

“My only regret is that I didn’t do this sooner,” he admits, breathing out a soft sigh afterwards that almost turns into a flustered chuckle. “And,” he takes a pause to what seems like an attempt to gather his thoughts, “that I didn’t reach out as much as I wanted to.”

“That’s on both of us, Jungsu.”

The decorative lights effortlessly shine onto his face, warm white light that makes it look even softer as he lets himself rest in your palm.

Regret is the last thing you will feel, even if this is just a one time thing.

Soon enough, his hands proceed. You’re out of your sleeping shorts and Jungsu’s fingers are doing that same motion from earlier, but now it feels even better as they move up and down against your underwear.

Suddenly they stop to apply some pressure in one particular spot - where he noticed a dark wet patch forming.

“Mmm—“ you bite your lip, provoking his gaze to shift back to your face. “You can remove one piece of clothing too.”

He mumbles that’s fair and grins at your smile of approval as he throws his shirt away. You didn’t expect to be so effected by the view, but you are; seeing his fit chest bare makes your heart quicken and now the way his arm flexes as he moves your panties to the side to touch you without any barriers is suddenly even more noticeable than before.

“So wet,” he mutters as if he’s in awe at the sight below, “you’re gorgeous.”

The compliment warms up your cheeks as you moan desperately at the first real touch.

He slides his fingers through your folds so slow and gently that you’re amazed how a delicate touch like that can have such a strong impact everywhere on your body.

From your entrance up to your clit, Jungsu swipes the tips of his two fingers and stares at the string of arousal that sticks to them once he pulls away.

His spare hand tugs your panties more while the other returns to where you’re dripping.

“Is it okay like this?” He asks in a whisper, watching your mouth open for a silent moan; his middle finger enters you with ease and for a second your breathing stops. “Yeah, feels nice?”

You nod delighted before resting your head back on the pillow, cherishing the warmth that’s building and electrifying your core.

You can’t see it, but Jungsu’s eyes sparkle as you transition into a new blissful state with each gliding through your tight walls.

“I love it,” you breathe out excitedly, not able to ignore the sounds that come with each move of his hand; especially once he adds another finger so he can make you feel even better by thrusting deeper into you. “Fuck—“

Everything doubles now that it feels more full, more fast paced and intense. His fingers feel perfect for this - firm and just the right subtle amount of rough. They move with dominance that they aren't trying to force, but still can be felt in his touch.

“You can cum for me, sweetheart,” he says under his breath while maintaining the quick motions targeting the desired angle. “Don’t hold back, baby.”

Every time you mewl his name your quiet voice shakes as he chases your peak.

The trembling chanting makes Jungsu’s skin run hot - at the back of his neck and the sides of his face that’s a little bit scrunched from concentration, from not allowing himself to slow down. It also teases his erection with how arousing it sounds, making it twitch inside his sweatpants.

Not long after, his free hand moves to your clit to stimulate you even further by circling around, and the knot of pressure inside you snaps.

The squelching noise, so blissful to Jungsu’s ears, fades in the small room as he eases up with his arched fingers, letting only your heavy breathing to fill the silence now.

Your eyes are glossy when they find his in the warm fairylights, but you’re not exactly sure what to say. As if he knew, Jungsu drops down, prepping himself on his hands and kissess you to let you know it’s okay.

Your hands go to his still hips, but yours are far from calm, and for the first time he fails to swallow a groan.

“Y/N—“ he exhales softly into your lips, unconsciously responding by grinding between your open legs. It doesn’t help that your hands are encouraging him to thrust again and again. “Fuck, feels so good…”

“I want to touch you,” you mutter not even having a specific idea in mind - you want to touch him everywhere all at once if it’s possible. Your fingers sneak beneath the waistband of his sweats, pleading by scratching his skin. It’s all you can do with how much you love the sensation from his length rubbing against you through the fabric, making more rush of arousal course through your veins. “Jungsu, please…”

“I’m gonna make you feel amazing first chance I get.” He speaks in the crook of your neck before backing off.

Your glowing doll eyes speak for themselves.

The enthralling effects of his words that dripped with honey-like sweetness despite the dirty context only grow after you earn the view you pleaded for.

Jungsu tugs down the clothing, stained with your arousal at the crotch area, and then you see it - flushed from the friction and oozing from desire as it bounces up. The size alone has your eyes almost shutting down from all the images of you taking it inch by inch flooding your mind.

If you focus enough, you can feel the strech.

“What are you thinking about?” Jungsu’s lips turn slightly as he takes a hold of his base, lowering his tip to your folds. The way he drags it down your slick lets you know that he’s aware of exactly what’s troubling your head.

“It will feel so nice,” you whine as his warm tip presses against your leaky entrance, but not enough to enter.

Jungsu repeats the same thing to hear the squelching sound one more time. It’s begging him to push deeper, but he resists and forces his length up your folds instead, smearing the glistening essence.

“You’re gonna take me so well, sweetheart, I’m sure of it.” His gaze observes the effortless way your slippery lips have his length gliding up and down. As his fingers stay around the base his aroused tip rubs your clit with each next move which has you humming erotically. “Mm— It will fit perfectly inside you…”

You bite your lip as your mind creates vivid images, one after another, based on Jungsu’s provocative words. His sensual tone of voice and his cock moving along your slickness work effectively in harmony, forming new undeniable rush in your core.

Two light slaps by the head of his dick force your eyes open and you see Jungsu letting a string of saliva fall into his palm to make his strokes smoother.

You know he smacked your clit with his tip without meaning anything by it, simply to hear the lewd sound and feel a small thrill. However, the excitement you get from that quick act is much bigger, and after Jungsu speeds up his fist up and down, you sit up, placing fingers on your sweet spot to continue the arousal he awakened.

Your breaths blend together as you sit in front of each other… along with the little airy sounds slipping into the air that’s growing thicker from the intimate scene.

In the meantime, your eyes drop to his busy hand to study the way it moves. You want to see how he likes to be touched; what pace does he enjoy, how much is his fist tightening. Though the up and down motions are quickening, you notice his fingers still seem gentle on his erection like he’s not doubling the pressure only the rhythm.

Soaking up this sight and the way his toned stomach reacts to the sensation turns you on immensely, but then your chin gets guided up and your attention is dragged away.

Jungsu doesn’t comment on your obvious and shameless staring. The only thing he does is take in your delighted twitching features and get off on their beauty.

“Keep going,” you encourage him quietly as your free hand cautiously reaches out to cup his balls.

While maintaining the eye contact and the steady circles on your clit, you let your fingers explore gently for a moment, then you make them squeeze which breaks Jungsu’s breathing.

The bold act of yours takes him aback, but the delight that shoots through him makes the surprise last only a second.

You squeeze again simultaneously mewling from your own bubbling emotions, and earn the first clear moan from him. It sounds exhilarating, but too short. Perhaps, you could’ve gotten more out of him if his lips didn’t gravitate towards yours for an open mouthed kiss.

This makes Jungsu let go of his cock and cup your face as the moment intensifies.

You, on the other hand, use the opportunity to finally touch him properly.

Gliding your fingertips from his ballsack up to his base, Jungsu feels the lingering effects from the delicate caressing right away. Once you wrap your fingers around him and apply some pressure his lips stop moving - he cannot help, but squeeze his eyes tightly and invite a hitched breath into your mouth as a wave of euphoria passes through his veins.

Encouraged by his breathing that’s catching up and his head resting back, the nerves you were holding in your stomach completely disappear, and your hand continues twirling - more freely and with more ease and confidence.

He seems fully relaxed and succumbed to the pleasure you bring him, and you can’t stop gushing over how grateful you are to be in this position.

You catch his hands form two fists around the bedsheets as you do your best to keep up the nice rhythm that continues to have more and more effects on him.

“Can you cum for me like this?”

Jungsu opens his eyes; he can’t tell whether your innocent tone or the way you rub yourself as he kneels between your legs is what brings him dizziness.

He wets his lips before swallowing.

“Yeah, but… I want to make you feel good one more time first.” He wants to emphasise his wish by making his voice firm, but it drips from his tongue breathless, almost fading away completely at the last word.

The sudden delay in the next twirling of your wrist has his jaw slacking; especially when you stop to squeeze at the top, flicking your thumb over his slit.

The hand between your own thighs slows down as you speak too.

“It’s okay, I’m very close anyways,” you give him a coy smile as he stares at you weakly with hooded eyes. “You can just relax now and keep looking at me…” you resume the stimulation on your clit and sigh at the feeling before finishing your thought: “and cum in my hand whenever you’re ready.”

Jungsu’s stomach flips at the sound of your sudden, but incredibly soft domineer; it continues to swirl from pleasure as you bring back the familiar pace around his girth. His gaze is fixated upon your hands - one dancing up and down his slick member, the other toying with your sensitive clit, slowly, so the one around his cock can go faster, but the mellow touching only captivates him more.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ Jungsu chokes just when the arousal that’s burning low in your tummy rises like a wild fire. “You’re doing perfect.”

You whine right after him as the knot pulses harder with each rub, making it a challenge for you to keep stroking him smoothly as you used to.

Your technique eventually turns sloppy and unsteady; most likely causing the rush in his body to weaken just when it leaps up.

“Fuck,” Jungsu cusses again, this time in a thinner pitch, an alluring breathy sound, indicating he’s getting closer just like you. “Like that, yeah—” As his head drops low in sudden silence, his one hand goes over your weakened fist. In order to guide it in the speed that’s going to push him over the edge, he needs to put in some strength, so he squeezes around your fingers.

Both of you are now speechless, looking narrowly at the view of your laps and enhancing the mutual pleasure. The growing excitement turns into ragged short breaths that crawl out of your throats as you do everything you can in order to keep your composure.

“Doing so good for me…” Jungsu’s hand is sweating on top of yours, gripping and forcing the lewd motions of your fist, top to bottom, until it reaches the end of the rush steadily.

Your own sensational high hits you like a wave as you watch his thick arousal seep out of him. The first rope shoots onto his tense stomach while the rest trickles down your fingers that still hold onto his member. It twiches once or twice in your palm, before he removes his stained hand away, and you do the same.

“Thank you,” Jungsu’s eyes flicker at you as the corners of his mouth twitch. He’s bemused by what just happened and you are too; you can only chuckle along. “You’re a good girl.”

The knuckles of his clean hand run down your cheek, but you feel your skin getting tingly everywhere.

──── ❆ ────

The next morning, 26th of December, is the day Jungsu and his parents are leaving, because they’re visiting close relatives before his winter break ends. You’re both drinking tea and scrolling through social media, chatting about mutual friends and who’s up to what.

There’s definitely something different in the way you speak to each other; it would be weird if there isn’t. You’re not sure what to think of it still, because you haven’t had the chance to talk about it yet, but you try not to let yourself fall into heavy overthinking mode and ruin your last hours together.

Hesitating if you should open a loose discussion about last night, now, that you’ve been sitting in silence for over two minutes, you look up from your phone just to see your mother walk in.

You catch a glimpse of the pie recipe she always makes this time of the year in her hand, but there’s slight worry on her face. Turns out, she forgot to buy two of the ingredients she needs and now she’s stressed out about it.

You always have this pie before Jungsu and his parents leave.

“I’ll go get them.” Jungsu offers already standing on his feet.

“Are you sure? It’s snowing outside.” Your mom says, glancing through the window. “I can just make something else.”

“That’s not an issue, I got my drivers license this summer.” He takes his parent’s keys, and looks over at you with a discreet grin. “Wanna join me?”

Jungsu insists on holding the bag with the ingredients you bought for your mother’s recipe despite being the one not wearing gloves. You forgot to put on yours before you leave the house and he asked you to take his pair or apparently you weren’t leaving the car.

Now, thanks to him your hands are warm, and you enjoy the light snowfall even more as you walk side by side.

“Hey, uhm” Jungsu speaks up, trying to keep his tone casual, “I was wondering something this morning.”

You turn to him as neither of you hurries to reach the parking lot just yet.

He shoots you a quick glance then goes back to staring at the deserted street in front of you.

“I’m going to be celebrating New Year’s with my roommate and some other friends from college. It’s gonna be fun, and I was wondering if you don’t have plans already of course…” He can feel your gaze on his cold face, but he can’t make himself respond to it. Not when he hasn’t gotten a reply to his offer. When was the last time he was feeling nervous because of you? Was there ever a time like that till now? “I can come pick you up and we can celebrate together. My roommate won’t mind it if I steal his car for a few hours.”

“What’s his name?” You look down at the white pavement with a smile unable to leave your face.

“Who’s— Oh!” Jungsu finally takes a peek in your direction, a bit flustered. “Seungmin. He’s a really nice guy, just a year younger than me.”

“Are you sure he’s really not going to mind it if you take his car twice? My classes start on the same day as yours and I’ll need a ride home.”

“Positive.” You both quit walking to look at each other. “I already asked.”

“Last night you mentioned there’s a girl you find cute.” Your head leans to the side as you inspect the boy’s expressions. His eyes look down at his feet once he registers your words; there’s definitely amusement inside them though. “Is she going to be there?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu’s grin widens at the fact you remember this. The next moment, he glances back up at you. “I’m waiting for her to give me an answer right now.”

Few seconds pass as you try to collect yourself. He meant you.

“So are you going to be there?” He gives you an eyebrow raise. “With me?”

You’re aware your glowing smile is already enough of an answer, but you still nod at him and say:

“Yes, I’ll be there with you.”

You were too immersed into your conversation to notice earlier that Jungsu has been driving in a totally different direction.

“Wait, where are we?” You ask as the car stops in front of a nice house covered in snow just like the rest on the street.

You’ve never seen it before.

“I thought we could use some privacy.” He turns to you, not yet sure how you’d react to his idea. When he catches your lips turning into a coy, but definitely approving expression, he feels a wave of relief. “Just for like an hour though or it will get suspicious.”

Jungsu gives you a quick tour around their new family home and after you’re inside his bedroom things escalate surprisingly quickly; or not so surprisingly considering what went down last night between you.

The high still lingers in both of your bodies as you crash on his bed.

He pins your hands above your head and your cold noses touch as your kiss deepens before you even have time to really comprehend this is really about to happen.

You are going to have sex with him.

You’re a moment away from feeling him in the most personal, intimate way possible as you watch him rip off the package of the condom with his teeth.

“When did you get these?” You wonder, because you didn’t see him grabbing condoms from anywhere while you were out shopping.

“I have my ways,” he grins, lowering his gaze at his crotch while standing on his feet next to the bed.

You’re sat naked at the centre and follow his hands - how one of them makes few strokes around his erection before the other wraps it up with protection. Then, a moment later how they spread your legs as if he’s scared not to break you.

He pulls you down slightly and adjusts himself between your thighs, breathing against your heat.

The butterflies in your tummy go wild with anticipation and excitement at the attractive view.

His presence there alone doubles the warmth into your core before his lips have even gotten in contact with your pussy. Once they do, your hips cannot resist the urge to move in the rhythm of his lapping tongue; wanting to match its sensual motions and earn more from the heady sensation it brings you.

Your fingers go into Jungsu’s hair the moment the arousal enhances to the point it makes your hands search for something to clench at. As your moans elevate as well, your hips keep moving against his gentle devouring mouth until his hands press you down so he can invite himself further into you with no interruptions.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan towards the ceiling, thrilled by the way he twirls the tip of his tongue around your clit before sucking on it some more. “Jungsu, it feels amazing…”

Once he detaches, he pushes his index finger through your entrance, then his middle one and tenderly glides them back and forth to really make sure you’re aroused enough.

“You taste so sweet,” he comments, staring down at your intimate lips, lustrous from his mouth and the essence his fingertips bring out of you only to spread it up to your clit.

He gives you one last open mouthed kiss which makes you whimper desperately.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” He looks you in the eyes after he hovers over you; holding himself up on one hand so the other can push the first inch of his member through your walls.

You let out a shaky sound and your nails sink into his shoulders. You breathe in, trying to relax as you haven’t been intimate with anyone in a while. It feels a bit painful because of that and his big size struggling to enter, but at the same time it also feels soul-stirring - because it’s him you are giving yourself to.

“You’ll need to loosen up some more for me, baby.” He whispers softly in your lips and you can almost taste the tension. “Can you do that for me?” The head of his cock retrieves before bumping into your small entrance again.

You nod while grasping onto his frame, and as you exhale with eyes closed shut, a gradual warm pain shoots through you as Jungsu forces a bit more of his length.

“I can stop anytime,” he reminds you while placing fingers onto your clit to comfort you with slow circles. The small portion of his cock your gummy walls are gripping on barely moves any further as he wants to give you time to adjust.

“No,” you utter without opening your eyes, “don’t, please.” Your focus is all on the big stinging stretch and you sound distracted and woozy.

Your walls, though hesitantly, start to accept some of his thickness as he cautiously rocks back and forth. At the same time, little by little you get familiar with how staggering it is to be so full.

“You already feel so good.” Jungsu’s low voice tickles your neck as he’s fully immersed in the exact same sensation as you. The tightness stimulates him more and more during the small pushes back and forth; they make you whimper every time and the sounds have such strong impact on his arousal that he starts to worry not to insert himself all the way by accident and hurt you.

All of a sudden, he pulls out causing you to gasp softly at the sudden emptiness.

Your glossy gaze focuses on him questionably until you realise he’s spreading your legs wider to lick you up again.

Keeping them open and still, he forces his tongue into your entrance and humms quietly every time it throbs, provoked by his movements. The pleasure he gains from your addictive taste has him squeezing your thighs and working his mouth in a way that makes the buzzing delight speedily prevail over the former ache.

“Jungsu, I’m…” you breathe out overwhelmed by the thorough gliding against your folds. “I’m close—“

He went back to eating you out with the intention to ease out the uncomfortable soreness he caused you, but here you are… a short moment before an intense climax washes over you as he presses against your legs so they don’t close around his head.

Your convulsing under his tongue has his arms holding onto you tightly, and as you calm down from the high, Jungsu’s lips suck your stimulated clit once or twice causing you to twitch even more.

“Good girl.” A gentle whisper caresses the skin of your inner thigh before he moves on his knees. “Now you’ll take me easier, right baby?”

This time instead of doing small bumps at your entrance Jungsu slides half of his length through a single slow push that has you hissing at the warmth it incites - a mix between pleasures with just a hint of the stinging ache from earlier.

You’ve never felt anything like it before.

Analysing your beautifully twitching face Jungsu decides to pick up a quicker pace at once. His heart rate along with his adrenaline rush increases by the new sound of your clear moans of rapture - all of them a reaction to the way he fills you up.

“Better, baby?” His eyes alternate between your open mouth and the appealing view where your bodies connect; where you’re hypnotising him by looking so stuffed and small and keeping him in trance with how you squelch for him. “So pretty…”

“Yeah,” you answer as your lips tremble from the rising pleasure, “so much better, k-keep going.”

“I knew you’d take me well,” Jungsu says as his own voice starts to drop softly. His hooded eyes blink weakly till they shut entirely as he inserts himself fully into you. His sticky fingers leave his base and sink into your thigh the moment you let out a high pitched whine at the way his tip hits your deepest spot. “Shit— you feel so good around me, baby.”

As you feel mazed and disoriented by the rush, your hand goes over your mouth after another mewl escapes your throat. It sounds too loud, but your self-control slips away the more Jungsu speeds up.

“You don’t need to keep quiet here, sweetheart.” The sudden action makes the boy chuckle as he holds your thighs loosely over his arms. The sheer look of desperation that’s contorting your face tempts him to drop closer. As he does so, he notices your fingers hesitate to uncover your lips completely. “Don’t, baby,” he grunts and even the intense rush can’t stop his voice from sounding sensual and comforting. “I want to hear the pretty sounds you make for me.”

His body weight now presses comfortably against you and you’re almost sure the heat it radiates while his hips slow down for a moment, makes your arousal grow, throb and trickle down on the bedsheets.

“So,” you breathe out in bliss as your fingers move away with trembling motions, “s-so deep…” Your mouth remains open as your head lolls back. You’re amazed by how it’s possible for him to stimulate such deep points inside you; once that have been unfamiliar to you until now.

“Yeah?” Jungsu’s lips move at your ear, producing intense breaths like a tune. “And you’re so tight, pretty girl… you feel perfect for me.”

A lazy kiss on the side of your jawline makes you flutter inside as your hands glide around his broad shoulders. The muscles tense under your touch as eventually Jungsu strengthens the pace again.

Your vision gradually starts to blur, but you still notice the sweat pooling on his forehead; how his teeth keep his lip tucked harshly as the thrusting of his hips turns into a steady slamming that fills the bedroom with lewd noises.

“Jungsu, I—“ your nails dig into his warm skin; surely promising marks, but you can’t stop them from dragging against his back as he hits exactly where it feels best. “Right there, yea—“

“There?” Jungsu’s eyes open, and they open at the perfect timing - to see how yours roll back from pleasure. A sight that immediately provokes him to keep doing what he’s doing, but better.

“Fuck! Yes—“ Your moans keep slipping in the rhythm of his strong thrusts strictly fixated upon the desired angle. “Harder, ple—“

Your pleading is suddenly cut off by your mind shutting down and your throat choking on your own breath.

It wasn’t necessary for you to beg, because Jungsu already knew more was what you needed. Each sound of yours was signaling to him that you’re getting closer, that you need just a little bit more for the rush to come and bring you sweet relief. Even your desperate grasping at his shoulders was already speaking enough to him.

“You’re even prettier when you cum around me, princess.” He murmurs out of breath with lips gently pecking your warm forehead. They cannot wait long enough for your panting to slow down though, and they move to kiss you insistently until you inevitably back away to breathe.

It happens with a small delay, because it takes you some time to compose yourself from the passionate kiss, but the corner of your mouth tugs shyly as a response to his words; to the nickname attached at the end.

After spending a moment inside your welcoming heat, Jungsu eventually pulls out with a sigh, and your hands let go.

Once he removes the condom to jerk off, your attention fixates upon the most compelling facial expression you’ve ever seen. His flushed face is painted by relish, but also by yearning, especially when the climax gains complete control over him and his head drops low, shifting your focus.

Warm and thick, his arousal lands all over your bare tummy, making you gasp quietly.

When he returns with a towel to clean you up before laying down beside you, you come to realise that it almost feels like summer from the snuggly atmosphere around the two of you; it’s perfectly formed by the mutual aftermath that you experience at the same time as you gaze into each other’s eyes, and nicely balanced by the soft glow of sunlight that’s attempting fo filter through the curtains.

And all of this, as Jungsu’s fingertips draw soft patterns on your back.

Till this current moment, your entire skin was on fire. Now, the feeling of those strong flames has faded, leaving a single lingering warmth that’s not completely new to you; simply because it’s been slowly growing throughout the years of your friendship… warmth, that feels reasuring.

It feels like love.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @gclhn ; @gaonashi ; @xhfics

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 8 (Viennese Waltz)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition, Dancing with the Stars, would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on the show to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 10.6K

👉 Fic Warnings: Sexual tension, mutual pining, angst, so much smut (we get a little dom and sub Dieter, intimacy, use of a sex toy, sex acts in public, spanking...really it's all too much to list here - it's Dieter, use your imagination), spicy language, themes dealing with intimate partner violence (not by Dieter), past alcohol abuse, past drug abuse, and shitty parents. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Cat dad / plant dad Dieter comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Self-sabotaging thoughts, sassy Dieter, smutty stuff (light dom/sub dynamics (Dieter's in charge), restraint with hands and body, nipple biting, finger sucking/biting, fingering, p in v, intimacy), so much angst.

Note: In case you missed it, check out this post before reading. There will be call backs to a couple of past conversations. It may help to have a refresher.

Chapter Quote:   “Don’t tell me that or you’re gonna lure the horndog out again. He’s not above dry humping a thigh.”

Kat's POV

The last two and a half weeks with Dieter had been nothing short of perfect as we settled into a new routine. I had hardly been home, now spending all of my time with him at his place or rehearsing. It almost felt like it had always been this way. Our lives were quickly falling into place so seamlessly, to the point that I was waiting for the other shoe to drop and allowing the doubt to slowly creep in. I knew this couldn’t last forever, and it was stoking a fear in me that I didn’t really understand. I couldn’t pinpoint the cause, so I tried to pack it away in a box in the back of my mind. However, its presence never ceased. Lurking. Festering. Waiting for the thing that would unleash it. 

Tuesday morning, I was stepping out of my car in the Television City Studios lot ahead of our weekly production meeting with Stacia and Joe. The moment I closed the door, I was met with several paparazzi coming toward me. I was momentarily stunned given they shouldn’t have been on the property, but I tried not to let it get to me as I made my way toward the main entrance at a brisk pace. 

I tried to ignore them, but they made it damn near impossible as they shouted questions my way and followed too closely. 

“Kat, how are you feelin’ about Dieter’s new relationship?”

I couldn’t help smiling to myself. His Instagram posts really were causing a stir. “I couldn’t be more happy for him,” I replied.

The pap moved in closer, “Have you met her? What do you think?”

I had to bite back a chuckle as I continued my brisk walk, “I know her well. They both seem very happy.” 

They were beginning to crowd me as another yelled, “Do you think it’s serious? Do you really think it’s gonna last given his history as one of Hollywood’s biggest playboys?” 

Something about that question made my gut turn. I didn’t bother to answer, pushing past them as I inhaled a deep breath to calm the sudden uneasiness. It was about that time one of the security guards caught sight of the intruders and came to my rescue, stopping the paps in their tracks as I entered the building. I was feeling flustered as I approached Dieter, who was already seated in the lobby with our usual coffees. After a glance, he stood and met me halfway. 

His brows were furrowed with concern as he asked, “You OK?”

I nodded, “Yeah…just some paparazzi caught me in the parking lot. I’m good…just wasn’t expecting it.”

He rolled his eyes, “That’s bullshit. Security needs to do better.”

I sighed, “Yeah, I mean they stopped them. It’s fine.” 

He looked about as confident as I felt with my response as he handed my cup of coffee over. I gave him a tight smile in thanks as we moved to sit on the small couches. My mind kept circling back to that comment about him being one of Hollywood’s biggest playboys. It wasn’t like it was a secret, but for some reason it was getting to me today. I pushed the thought aside, blaming my insecurities as I turned to face Dieter. I was surprised to find him staring at me, the crease still present between his brows. 

I gave him a small smile in an attempt to brush things off, “So, what do you think we’ll get stuck with this week?”

He pursed his lips in thought, “Hmmm, my vote is on the Samba.” 

I huffed out a laugh, “God, I hope not. My hips need a break from Latin dancing.” 

He fought a smile as he leaned in closer to speak in a quiet voice only I could hear, “You sure the problem isn’t from all the horizontal dancing?” 

I snorted out a laugh, “No, definitely not. If anything, that makes me forget my issues exist.” 

His eyes briefly dropped down to my lips as he smirked. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but refrained given the public setting. He leaned back into the couch, licking his bottom lip as he looked at me in a way that could only be described as sinful. “I hope they put you in purple this week. You look good in purple.” 

I chuckled, “That’s random. Why purple?”

He was smiling now, “I was just thinking of that SNL photoshoot, when they had you in that deep purple dress. The color looked amazing against your skin. That purple bikini looked pretty fucking hot too…” 

His words made my heart flutter. Knowing that he noticed the purple dress before anything had happened between us and actually remembered it was hitting kind of different. It definitely took my mind off the negative thoughts I had been having a few minutes prior. The mention of the purple bikini also had me thinking about everything that happened after it came off.

A PA chose that moment to appear out of nowhere, letting us know that Stacia and Joe were ready for us. We stood, and made our way to the conference room where we were met with two very agitated looking executive producers. There was a tense energy in the room as we took our seats across from them. I could feel Dieter’s leg press against mine under the table. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to help me relax or seeking reassurance for himself. 

Their eyes focused on Dieter for a beat before Stacia finally spoke. “I’m gonna need for you to tell me what the hell is going on because we’re getting inundated with calls from the press.” 

Right to it then…

Dieter shrugged nonchalantly, “I’m gonna need you to be a little more specific…because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Stacia scoffed, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You know exactly what I’m talking about…the social media posts? The mystery brunette with you on the beach that’s plastered all over the tabloids? You’ve got nothing to say about that?” 

I glanced over at him, just in time to see the side of his lips twitch upward. “What is there to say? That I’m seeing someone? It’s my personal life. I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

Stacia looked like she could have punched the smug look off his face. I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing over how worked up she was getting. She leaned forward, pinning Dieter with her eyes as they flashed with anger, “If it affects this show, then yes, you need to give a heads up. Our ratings may plummet over this, you realize that right? The fans have bought into shipping you two, and if they can’t do that, then they won’t watch.”  

Dieter huffed out a laugh, “Kat and I never agreed to that narrative. That was all you guys. I’m not gonna stop living my life just because of some bullshit story line you two dreamed up on our behalf for a reality show that’s supposed to be about DANCING. There was nothing in my contract that forbid me from doing it, so you can fuck right off with that attitude.” 

I rolled my lips together as I fought a burst of laughter. Funny enough, Joe seemed like he was trying to do the same as Stacia’s mouth fell agape. She scoffed in disbelief as she sunk back into her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. 

Joe leaned forward as he held his hands out in a peaceful gesture, “Look, you’re right. We have no say in your personal life. A head’s up still would’ve been nice so that we could expect the influx of inquiries from the press. It’s been nonstop since you made those posts and that TMZ article went up. We just need to know how to handle this.” 

Stacia chose that moment to break into the conversation, her eyes now on me. “Is it you? Are you two tryin’ to play some clever game because you got caught?”

I couldn’t help my eye roll that followed. She thought she was so smart. She was obviously on to us, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. 

“I think it’s up to Dieter if he wants to divulge the details of his love life. As far as I’m concerned, it’s none of your business and I’m not saying a word about it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to the reason we’re here and discuss this week’s performance.” 

She let out a controlled breath as her nostrils flared. It was obvious she was about to snap. 

“Why have you been so combative this season?” she asked.

I shook my head, “I’m not being combative right now. This is a Dieter thing…not a me thing. So, I’m removing myself from the discussion.” 

Dieter snickered quietly beside me. I could tell he was enjoying himself way more than he probably should be, but I couldn’t fault him for it because I was too. 

Stacia threw her hands up in frustration, “So what the hell are we supposed to tell these reporters that keep calling for comments?” 

I watched Dieter as he gave her a sarcastic smile, “How about nothing? No comment? We don’t comment on the private lives of our cast members? It’s not that fucking hard.” 

There was something about him being like this that was melting my insides. I was proud of him for standing up for himself - for us. I was also insanely turned on by it too. 

I shifted my attention back to Stacia, who was sitting still, staring Dieter down with wide eyes. Joe sighed before reaching for the folder in front of her, pulling out the costume sketches for the week and sliding them over to us. 

Dieter smirked as he peered down at them, bumping his leg against mine as he spoke, “Hmm, lavender is a good color. I approve.” 

I couldn’t help the smile on my lips as I leaned over to look at the sketches. His day had obviously been made by the light purple gown they had me in. The front of it was in the shape of an X, crossing over the chest with a triangular cut out around the navel. The back was completely open. The bottom half looked to be made of a lightweight flowy fabric. Dieter would be wearing a matching light purple shirt with dark trousers. 

I nodded in approval as I slid the sketches back toward Joe. He gave me a tight smile, “Good. You’ll be doing the Viennese Waltz this week. I’ll have the music sent over.”

He looked away, shuffling papers in the folder, seemingly dismissing us. Stacia continued to watch us with a sour look on her face as we stood to leave. 

Both of us nearly burst into laughter as soon as we were in the lobby. I could have kissed him right there, but held back as he smiled at me. 

“That felt fucking amazing. Right?” he finally said. 

I chuckled, “It did, honestly. I’m not sure they’ve ever had so much resistance before. It’s driving Stacia crazy that she doesn’t have control right now.” 

His smile widened, “I know we’ll probably regret this later, but totally worth it to see her face.”

I moved in closer, gently tugging on the front of his shirt, “You know…it’s kind of hot when you put your foot down like that.”

He was beaming now, causing his cheek to dimple and eyes to crinkle in that way I love. 

His eyes scanned the area around us before settling on mine as he leaned in, “How about we have lunch at your place today before we head to the studio?”

I snorted out a laugh, “I don’t think lunch is what you’re after.”

His brows arched, “No? I do actually plan to have a very nice meal…and maybe even some dessert…” 

I peered up at him with a smirk, “I fear we may not make it to rehearsal…”

He feigned shock and clutched his chest before shifting into a mischievous grin, “I would never skip rehearsal. I'm a good student. Besides, I’m fully capable of being quick with my meals. It’s the number of servings that get me in trouble. You’ll just have to cut me off before I’ve had my fill…so long as you’ve had yours.” 

Two and a half hours later, we finally made it to the dance studio after thoroughly having our way with each other as soon as we stepped through my front door. Both of us were still feeling giddy and energized from our exploits as we stretched out on the floor to listen to the song for this week. 

I turned over on my back as I hit play. The song wasn’t new to me. It was a popular song used for the Viennese Waltz in competition, but for some reason, hearing it now felt different. My skin broke out in goosebumps as I really listened to the lyrics for the first time. They were striking a nerve, causing me to suddenly feel on edge for absolutely no reason. 

When it ended, I turned to look at Dieter. He was stretched out on his side with his head propped on his hand, staring at me. The space between us suddenly felt heavy with tension. This tension felt different, almost smothering. 

I cleared my throat, avoiding his gaze as I asked, “So, what’re your initial thoughts on this one?”

He sighed, “Well, I think it’s talking about the vulnerability and fear that comes with a new relationship where there’s a deep emotional connection…and overcoming the obstacles after past struggles. Having that fear of opening up and letting them in…trusting again after being hurt.”

It was obvious to me then, this song was everything I was trying to shove in that little box hidden in the back of my mind. As if I needed a reminder. Maybe this was the universe’s way of forcing me to deal with those feelings. 

I gave him a weak smile, “Yeah, that sounds right. So…how do we wanna translate that to dance?”

He shrugged, “I guess, maybe focus on the vulnerability and connection? The internal battle?”

I nodded, sitting up before moving to stand. I needed to change the topic. “Yeah, sounds good. So, let's go over the hold and footwork…then we can get into the choreography.” 

Dieter stood, framing up his arms without prompting. He already knew the drill. 

I walked around him, observing his frame before moving in to make adjustments. “You’re probably gonna hate this one because it’s a very unnatural position to put your body in. Your shoulders should be down with your elbows up and you’ll need to bend your knees. It’s definitely not a dance for beginners.”

He groaned as I essentially manhandled him into the correct position. “You’re right, I hate it already. This is gonna wear my back out isn’t it?” 

I chuckled, “Yeah, probably. But hey, at least it’s not a Latin dance. Our hips will finally get a break.” 

He snorted out a laugh, “No they won’t.” 

I could feel the heat creeping up my face at his implication. I shook my head, fighting a smile as I moved to stand in front of him to take my position. 

“Alright you horndog…focus.”

He mumbled out a quiet, “Sorry,” before rolling his lips together to hold in his smile. 

I was still smiling up at him as I continued, “This is called a rotary dance because of all the turns involved. It has a 1-2-3 fast-paced rhythm that consists of natural and reverse turns and change steps that should be smooth and elegant. We should have sort of a rise and fall as we move, but you have to make sure your shoulders stay parallel with the floor as we maintain the closed position. Your footwork has to be precise or it’s gonna look messy.”

He followed as I led him into the steps, talking him through it as we moved around the room. He, of course, picked up on it quickly. I gave him a smile of encouragement as he took over leading after several minutes. 

“This is another one of those forbidden dances. When it first came about, couples were dancing with little to no contact between them. It was very scandalous as you can imagine. So, leaning into the space between us, being close together is part of it.” I added. 

He was fighting a smile, “Don’t tell me that or you’re gonna lure the horndog out again. He’s not above dry humping a thigh.” 

I couldn’t help the cackling laugh that slipped out as I melted against him. He seemed delighted with himself as his face lit up from eliciting such a response from me. His arms tightened around me as he leaned his forehead against mine, “God, I love it when you laugh like that…best sound ever.” 

Movement in the hallway caught my attention, causing me to sober and pull back from him. It was just a random staff member of the studio passing by, but it was enough to bring me back to the real world - reminding me that we had to watch ourselves here. 

We got back to it after that, beginning our process of planning out the routine. Wednesday and Thursday went much the same way. We had a fairly well choreographed dance in place by the time we had filming on Friday. 

As the week wore on, I noticed that I was feeling strangely disconnected from it all. I could feel myself dissociating as Dieter and I danced, causing a weird energy to buzz between us. Dieter seemed to pick up on it, often asking if I was feeling ok. I brushed it off, chalking it up to feeling tired, but deep down, I could feel something brewing. I couldn’t put words to it. All I knew was that it felt terrible and destructive. 

Dieter seemed to be extra attentive in the evenings, making sure I was taken care of. It was more than I deserved from him considering I was slowly building a wall between us as I drowned in my thoughts and fears about our future together. 

As we got ready for bed Saturday night, after an unusually quiet evening, I could see it in his eyes. He could feel the shift in me. We were standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom as he pulled my hair back into a single braid. I avoided his gaze as he watched my reflection. When he finished, his arms snaked around my waist, hugging my back to his front as he buried his face in the curve of my neck. It felt like he was trying to anchor me to him - keep me present and pull me back from whatever dark place I was slipping into. 

He stayed like that for a while as I leaned my head backward against his shoulder and reached up to run my fingers through his messy hair. I felt strangely disconnected from the scene being reflected in front of me, almost like I was having an out of body experience. 

Dieter inhaled deeply before finally pulling away. I gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. Afterward, we undressed each other as had become the routine. He crawled into bed behind me and pulled me against him just as tight as before. We lay in the dark for a time in silence.

“I feel like you’ve been distant for the past few days. Is something bothering you? Did I do something wrong?” he eventually asked. 

I didn’t really know the answer to that question. I could confidently say he hadn’t done anything wrong, but I didn’t understand what I was feeling, so I lied. 

“No, you haven’t done anything. I think…I’m just wearing down. I haven’t had to dance this much in a long time.”

He didn’t say anything, but the tense set of his shoulders told me he wasn’t buying it. I turned to face him, wrapping myself around his body as he tangled his limbs with mine. After nuzzling my face into the nook under his chin, I took a few minutes to simply exist with him surrounding me. I welcomed his warmth as it sunk into bones. I inhaled his musky scent, allowing it to calm me as I tried to understand why I was feeling this way. 

We stayed that way through the night, clinging to each other like it was our last night on this planet. I needed it. It helped bring me back to him, or so I thought. 

My downward spiral hit hard on Sunday. I was nearly feeling back to normal when I awoke with a consuming need to have Dieter. We hadn’t been together since lunch at my place on Tuesday, which suddenly had me feeling empty and needy as I watched him sleep. 

I let my hand trail down the smooth contour of his back, making small circles that caused him to squirm against me in his slumber. He looked so relaxed, the permanent crease between his brows nearly nonexistent. His lips parted slightly as he inhaled deep, steady breaths. His hair was a mess of fluffy curls that hung down over his forehead. He really was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

My hand moved to trace along the curve of his nose with the tip of my finger, which seemed to rouse him from sleep. His dark eyes blinked open just as my thumb grazed across his perfectly pouty lips. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled me a little closer against his chest.

We didn’t speak, instead choosing to get lost in each other's gaze as our hands explored - gliding over any exposed skin they could reach. Something crackled in the air around us, creating an intensity that I wasn’t expecting, making me feel a little emotional as I sought out his lips with mine. 

His kiss was slow and sensual, yet still passionate and needy. He took his time, letting the need simmer as his mouth moved against mine with soft touches and gentle sucks. It had my body burning for him as his large palm rested on my neck, grasping under my jaw with his thumb and fingers as he used his weight to shift me onto my back. Something about it made me feel possessed by him, like I was his. Oddly enough, it was exactly what I needed at that moment. 

He tilted my head slightly, allowing him to capture my lips and deepen his kiss. His tongue licked into my mouth as his hand released my face and moved south. The backs of his fingertips lightly grazed between my breast and down my stomach before settling at the apex of my thighs, rubbing tight circles in the place I needed it most. His fingers dipped lower to spread my arousal before returning to the sensitive bud. His lips moved lower, placing open mouth kisses along my neck, pausing only to nip along my shoulder with his teeth. 

He moved lower still, teasing a nipple with his tongue before nibbling with his teeth. He didn’t bite hard, but it was enough to make me gasp as it sent a jolt of electricity through me. I arched into him as his lips suctioned around the peak and sucked it through his teeth. I let out a quiet whine as he repeated the motions to the other side.

By the time he sunk his fingers into my wet heat, I was near the edge, it only took a few curls against that sweet spot to push me over. He was leaning above me now, his eyes on mine, pupils blown wide as he watched me fall apart under his touch in a way that no one else had ever been able to accomplish.

I went limp, melting into the bedding as his hand moved upward, rubbing along my hip while he gave me a chance to regain my senses. A devilish smirk formed on his lips as his hungry eyes roamed over me. I let out a controlled breath, reaching for his face, allowing my thumb to brush against his now swollen bottom lip. He surprised me, dipping his chin to capture it between his teeth, not really biting it, just holding it there as his lips closed around the tip before dragging them off. The sharpness of his teeth combined with the sucking sensation of his lips sent another jolt through my body, causing me to whine for more. His hand reached for mine as he turned his head, kissing my palm before wrapping his fingers around my wrist to place it above my head.

He shifted, grabbing my free wrist so it could join with the other one. He trapped them both there with one of his large hands, pausing to watch me - giving me a chance to stop him. I could feel my breathing pickup as I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip in anticipation of whatever he was about to do. The smirk was back as he moved between my thighs to line himself up at my entrance. He sank in slowly, jaw going slack and eyes squeezing shut from the feeling. A quiet groan rumbled in his chest, the sound of it nearly had me coming undone all over again. 

I watched as the muscles in his torso tensed. His mouth snapped shut as he took a few deep breaths to center himself, his jaw flexing as he did so. His eyes blinked open, focusing on mine. His free hand dropped to my thigh, snaking under it to lift my leg over his upper arm as he leaned forward and pinned me to the bed. He began to move at an agonizingly slow pace, pausing to grind his hips against me between each thrust. He dipped his head just close enough to run his nose along the contours of my face, ghosting his lips against mine but never fully touching them. It was maddening. 

As he increased the pace of his thrusts, his grip on my wrists and leg tightened. He watched me squirm under him, seeking more friction. More of his skin. His mouth. His smug smile told me that he had me exactly where he wanted - under his control and at his mercy. He could have done anything he wanted to me because I couldn’t move under his hold.

I never would have allowed Alec to pin me down like this. I never trusted him enough to have that kind of control over me. But with Dieter, it was different. I wanted him to claim me as his. I wanted him to have his way with me because I knew he wouldn’t take advantage of having that kind of power and I was enjoying every second of it. 

I could feel the tension building again, both of us panting and sharing the air between us as he pressed his forehead against mine. His groans became louder as he got closer to his release. His lips finally crashed into mine the moment my core tightened around him. His hand released my wrists and came to rest on my neck as his fingertips and thumb dug into the sides of my face. He whimpered against my lips as he fell over the edge with me, his thrust becoming erratic before his body tensed with a guttural groan deep in his chest. He eventually relaxed against me, nearly dissolving into a puddle as my fingers tangled in his hair. 

His arms wrapped around me, shifting us to lay on our sides as he buried his face in my neck. We lay with each other in silence, not having said a word to each other since waking. We didn’t have to. Our bodies did the talking for us. 

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before he mumbled out a cheeky, “Good morning,” against my neck. I laughed against the top of his fluffy head as he hugged me tighter. The silence stretched between us again, allowing my mind to begin the self sabotage. 

The fact that I was willing to give up that much control to him scared me. I could lose myself to him so easily. Hell, I was pretty sure I already was. A part of me worried that it wouldn’t be enough, that I wouldn’t be enough for him. My past was now working against me, making me question everything. I had been so wrong before, to the point that I now couldn’t trust my own judgement. 

As we went through our morning routine, I could feel the funk settling in again. It was in full swing as we walked into the dance studio for rehearsals. The damn song for our performance definitely wasn’t helping. It played over and over again as we worked on perfecting our choreography for the week. I was half tempted to find the instrumental version, just so I didn’t have to hear the lyrics anymore because I felt like they were seriously fucking with my emotions. I definitely didn’t need any help with that. 

I became distant again, dissociating and only going through the movements. Dieter realized it, of course, but he didn’t say anything. He only watched me, his mind working double time to try and figure out what was going on. He offered to take breaks often, assuming perhaps that my joints were hurting. He was doing everything right, like he always did.

That evening was spray tan night for the cast. The tanning crew were running behind on setup, which left us waiting longer than normal. I ended up needing to excuse myself to go to a nearby restroom, which turned out to be a terrible idea. 

I was just finishing up in the end stall and reaching for the handle when I heard someone mention Dieter’s name. I froze as the voices got louder, clearly thinking they were now alone. One of the voices I didn’t recognize, possibly one of the new dancers, but the more prominent one was definitely Anika. 

“She can’t seriously think that whole thing is gonna work out with him, right? She is sooo not his type. Everyone knows that Dieter Bravo is into freaky shit. I seriously doubt Kat can keep up with that. She’s so boring. And…let’s be real…the man is known for hooking up with his cast mates and dumping them when the show’s over. Why would she think she’s any different? Guys like that don’t change. It’s just the way they’re wired. I honestly can’t believe she’s even going there.” 

The other girl snickered, “Maybe it’s just a rebound thing…something to keep her distracted after that whole Alec and Lana mess. I can’t blame her, I would jump on that as a distraction too. That man is aging like a fine wine. He’s looking really good lately…and the way he moves, you know he has to be a good fuck.”

Anika sighed loudly, “I know, right? I’m a little disappointed he’s not working his way through the cast. I’ve heard he used to be notorious for that. I know that I definitely wouldn’t tell him no.” 

Their voices faded as they exited the room. I sunk against the stall door, clutching at my chest, silently begging my heart to calm itself. As if I needed to be reminded of my doubts. Clearly everyone else thought the same thing, I wasn’t enough for him. He was eventually going to get bored and want something more. Just like Alec did. And my heart was going to be absolutely obliterated by it this time. I couldn’t handle it, not from Dieter. 

I spent far longer than I should have in that stall, willing the tears not to come. I finally pulled it together enough to rejoin the group. I could hear the blood pumping in my ears as I moved to stand next to Dieter. He noticed something was wrong immediately, his brows pinching together as he looked at me. I avoided his gaze, shaking my head and saying it was nothing. Across the room, I could see Anika and one of the new cast members giving me the side eye. 

Luckily we didn’t have to wait long. They were ready for us soon after that, making sure Dieter and I were the first two in and out in an effort to keep us away from my asshole ex. I was thankful for it, needing to get away from the crowd. They were making me feel claustrophobic all of a sudden. I couldn’t help wondering if everyone who stared at us was thinking the same thing as Anika, that I wasn’t enough for him to keep me around. 

We made our way back to our dressing rooms after that. Dieter made sure everything was clear in mine before heading to his. I changed quickly, trying to keep my mind on gathering everything I needed to pack into my gym bag. I soon realized that I really needed some time to myself, to figure out what the fuck was going on in my brain. 

Dieter was back at my door within minutes. He had a concerned look in his eyes as he asked what I wanted for dinner. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I turned to face him. 

“I think…I’m gonna head home for the night. I’ve got a bunch of things that I’ve been neglecting to do…and I need to call my sister. She’s been blowing up my phone about that last TMZ article.” 

He inhaled deeply, releasing the breath slowly as he nodded. “Yeah, that’s…fine. I don’t wanna keep you from things.” 

I shook my head, “No, you’re not. That’s…on me. I’m procrastinating.”

He pursed his lips as he turned to look down the hallway, rolling his eyes as he looked back toward me. “Alec is wandering around. I’ll walk you to your car.”

I gave him a tight smile, reaching for my bag and throwing it over my shoulder. He walked along beside me, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans as he stared at the ground. I felt like everyone was staring at us as we walked past, which only increased the anxiety I was feeling. 

When we got to my car, he pulled the door open for me. His eyes looked sad as they roamed over my face. He swallowed thickly before speaking, “Call me if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk.” 

I nodded, forcing a smile before turning to get into the driver's seat. After I fastened my seat belt, he shut the door. I watched him as he walked toward his car, head down as he rubbed at the back of his neck with his right hand. His left, was clenching and unclenching into a tight fist. I sighed, leaning my head against the steering wheel as I took deep breaths. 

“What the fuck am I doing? He’s not like Alec.” 

I had to keep telling myself that like a mantra as I started the car and drove to my house. By the time I got home, I was spiraling hard. Overhearing Anika had really done a number on me. It had me doubting everything. 

I sank back onto the sofa with my phone, wasting no time dialing my sister’s number. She answered on the second ring. 

“Well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she said in greeting. 

I sighed, “Lyd, I need for you to talk some sense into me…please.” 

She sucked in a sharp breath, “What happened? I thought things were going well?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, “It was…it is…it’s just…am I being stupid about this? Do you think I’m enough for him?”

“Oh Kat, honey…don’t do this. Everyone can see that man is obsessed with you. I don’t care how hard you try to hide it.” 

I rubbed my palm against my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “Yeah, right now he may be…and you know how that is with the dancing. The whole dancer connection thing…he may just be feeling that, ya know? I don’t think I’m what he usually goes for. Not from what I’ve seen anyway. What if he gets bored with me? I can be a very boring person.” 

She sighed, “Kat, don’t let what happened with Alec get in the way of what you’re building with Dieter. It’s not the same. He is a completely different person. He actually cares about you…I’m not sure that Alec ever really cared about anyone but himself.” 

I sunk down further into the cushions, debating if I wanted to say what I was thinking. Because once I did, it was out there. I would be admitting it out loud to myself and my sister. 

I let out a stuttered breath as the tears pooled in my eyes, “I think…I’m in love with him, Lydia….and not in the way I was with Alec. That was nothing compared to this. If he doesn’t want this, I won’t be able to handle it. I think…I think I jumped into this too soon. I’m not sure that I’m ready…”

Lydia huffed into the phone, “Have you talked to Dieter about this? If you haven’t you need to.”

I shook my head even though I knew she couldn’t see me, “No. I haven’t. I don’t know what to say. I don’t understand what I’m feeling because I’ve never felt like this before.”

“So tell him that. You never know, he may feel the same way.”

The tears were falling now. I absentmindedly wiped them away, “And if he doesn’t? Then I’ve made an ass of myself.” 

“Hmm, well…something tells me he does.”

I let out a controlled breath, “Maybe…I should just slow things down. We’ve been all in from the first second…literally days after I ended a six year, very toxic relationship. I jumped in head first and it’s just going too fast.”

I could hear shuffling on the other end of the line, then a door closing. “What’s happening that makes it fast? Did he ask you to marry him or something?”

I scoffed, “Geez, no.”

“What then? Did he ask you to move in?”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “No. But I mean, I’ve basically lived at his house since we got back from New York.”

She chuckled, “That’s kind of what couples do when they're in the honeymoon phase, Kat. Has he even told you that he loves you yet?”

“Umm, no. He hasn’t. That word has not been said and that discussion not had.”

“So how the hell is it going too fast? Just because you feel like you’re in love with him? Some people feel that the first time they meet their significant other. I did. I knew immediately.” 

I whined, “I feel like you’re missing the point. It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it though? That’s all it boils down too. You’re worried it’s too soon. It’s not.”

I fell over onto my side, burying my face into a decorative pillow and groaning in frustration. “OK, well…aside from that. I’m still worried he’s gonna get bored with me and move on once the show is over. I’m still not convinced this isn’t just due to the situation and hormones. God…the hormones. I seriously don’t know what he’s done to me. I swear, I could spend a whole weekend in bed with the man and it still wouldn’t be enough.” 

Lydia snorted out a laugh, “That good, huh?”

I sighed, “Yes, he is. I’ve let him do things to me no one has ever done…and I want him to do more. He’s addicting. The sex is addicting. That’s not normal…”

“Ehh, please stop there. I don’t wanna know the details of that…”

I let out a humorless laugh, “The sad part is, it’s all been pretty tame. I’m so fucking vanilla.” 

“I don’t even know how to respond to that…Look, obviously your cock-whipped. I get it. You haven’t had a decent lay in years. I guess I can see where you're coming from…BUT being in love and lust are completely different. You said he was making a point to make it not about sex, right? That means something…”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I considered her words, “Yeah, he does do that. We do go days without doing anything. He’s actually capable of having intimate moments without escalating it.”

“See, that’s why I think it’s something more. He’s putting in the effort. And have you seen the way he looks at you? Even if he hasn’t said it…and maybe he hasn’t put a word to it yet…but I’m fairly certain that man has big feelings for you. He’s never put this kind of effort into a relationship before.”

My brows furrowed in confusion, “What, are you two having secret conversations behind my back? How the hell would you know?”

She laughed nervously, “Well, when my only sister starts seeing a new man after being with an absolute dick for so long…you better bet I’m gonna investigate the fucker. I did my homework…and from what I’ve seen and what you’ve told me, this is different for him too. He’s invested. And if you need proof, get on YouTube and look up videos of you guys rehearsing and dancing. It’s obvious. There’s something there that was never there with Alec. Has he given you any reason to doubt him?” 

I sighed, “No…it’s been the opposite actually. He’s been perfect…but that doesn’t mean he won’t get bored with me later.”

It was her turn to sigh, “Well, you have to decide if that’s a risk you’re willing to take. He probably has the same fears, ya know? Especially if he’s as into you as I think he is.”

My head was spinning. She had some good points, and she was right. I needed to decide if I was willing to risk it. So, really, I was right back where I started. My mind was working overtime examining every detail, and in the end, I was really just psyching myself out. 

Lydia broke through my thoughts, “So, what was with the social media posts and the TMZ stuff? You guys fucking with them or what because I know my sister’s ass when I see it.” 

I snorted out a laugh, “Yeah, something like that. Just keeping Stacia and Joe on their toes more than anything. They were pissed over it.”

She cackled, “Good. They deserve it.” 

We hung up soon after that. I had hoped that I would feel better after talking with Lydia, but in reality, I felt even more confused. I took her advice, pulling up YouTube on my phone and entering our names in the search bar. The search results populated every second of our time on the show together. I spent a good hour watching clips, starting with the oldest ones first. 

It was obvious from week one that we had chemistry. Even on those filming days that hadn’t been so great, the spark between us was still there. I had joked with him about having heart eyes in recent weeks, but looking back now, he had them all along. The only difference was the longing was no longer there. It was replaced with something else. Happiness maybe? 

There was something sort of comforting about seeing his confidence grow through the clips. More than that, seeing our trust in each other grow. There was no hesitation between us now. We were completely at ease with being in each other’s space, anticipating the other’s movements, moving as one. The connection between us when we danced really was something to behold. I could now understand why it had become such a big deal on the show. We weren’t fooling anyone. The fire burning between us was too big to hide. 

I was beginning to feel better about things, until I made a major mistake. I opened google and typed in his name. The first thing that popped up in the search results was the most recent TMZ article. I, of course, clicked on it. I took a few minutes to inspect the pictures. I could tell it was me in them, but it really could have been anyone from that distance. Dieter’s broad frame was unmistakable though. Not many people had a shoulder to waist ratio like him.

I scrolled to the bottom of the article, clicking the “Dieter Bravo” tag to see what else came up. I shouldn't have. It linked to an endless amount of articles that showed him out at clubs, women and men hanging off of him. More times than not he had either a cigarette or bottle of liquor in his hand, sometimes both. There were videos of him making out with people. Sometimes more than one person. Some of the faces I recognized from the films he had been in.

What stood out to me was how he was behaving. In some of the clips it was obvious he was high on something. Even in the clips where the paparazzi caught him walking down the street during the day. He looked disheveled and seemed fidgety and agitated as he responded to questions with smart ass remarks. This definitely wasn’t my Dieter. 

What caught my attention the most were the types of women he surrounded himself with. They all looked the same, small and curvy with big chests and fish lips - very plastic. Very fake. Very Hollywood. More times than not, he was with multiple women and men as he left a club or after party. I couldn’t help wondering if that was something he was into. Was it his preference to be with multiple people at once? Would I be OK with that if it was? No, I wouldn’t. I don’t share.

I was spiraling again, realizing I wasn’t his usual flavor. Sure, I was fit with a dancer's body. However, where these women were soft, I was not. My body was lean and toned from a lifetime of movement. My boobs were damn near non-existent by their standards. I definitely didn’t have over inflated lips or a straight nose. I was suddenly feeling inadequate in every way when it came to Dieter’s preferences. I didn’t really understand what he saw in me if this was what he typically went for. And if he had a taste for multiples, he was definitely going to get bored with me because that is the one thing I would not do, even for him. 

This line of thinking brought me back to the dancer connection, the chemical reaction that happens between two people who are forced into such intimate circumstances for an extended period of time. They bond and form an attachment that quickly fades. I had seen it happen so many times on this show, often fizzling out as soon as the season ended. But there were some couples that didn’t. Some of them were now happily married with a family. 

I was questioning my own feelings now. How real were they? Was this just an infatuation? If his feelings were real, would I hurt him? Would he hurt me? He did seem to form attachments to his co-stars and quickly discard them. I didn’t understand why I was so confused. I felt lost. Deep down, I knew the majority of this stemmed from what Alec had put me through. I knew I needed to stop comparing Dieter to that asshole, but I couldn’t help it. Alec was my only real relationship prior to Dieter. It was the only comparison I had. Given Dieter’s history, it didn’t feel like that far of a stretch. However, I knew they were both in completely different places in their lives. 

I sighed, tossing my phone on the table before digging my palms into my eyes. My mind was exhausted and so was my body. I reached behind me and pulled the small throw blanket off the back of the couch and covered myself up. I had only intended to take a quick nap, but it turned into something much longer. 

It was near 6:30 AM when I awoke from my very restless sleep. My body ached from the crumpled up position I had been sleeping in. I puffed air out of my cheeks and reached for my phone, expecting to see a message from Dieter, but there was nothing. 

I felt like shit because I didn’t even tell him goodnight and now he was probably upset. Or, maybe he was happy to have a break from me? I shook that thought away, standing and stretching as I moved toward the shower. I didn’t have a lot of time before I had to be at Television City Studios for show day, so everything turned into a rush. 

Dieter was already there waiting with my coffee in hand. He gave me a tentative smile as I approached, taking the coffee from him and immediately inhaling a big gulp. I felt exhausted. I could already tell today would be a struggle. 

My eyes met his as I wiped away the excess liquid on my upper lip, “Sorry I didn’t text or call last night. I completely knocked out on the couch, and now I feel like I slept on a bed of rocks.”

His brows pinched together, “Are you good to dance today?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be fine once I stretch and move around some. I’m just stiff.” 

He stood staring at me, looking unconvinced as we were called up to do our camera blocking. I once again found myself zoning out and going through the motions. The routine felt flat because of it. I knew I would need to get it together before the live show or else it wasn’t going to go well. 

I was in a daze as we went through our final fitting and hair and makeup. I could tell that Dieter was trying his best to carry the bulk of conversations for us as he snuck concerned glances my way. I tried to act normal, but it was getting harder as the day wore on. My mind was swimming with negative thoughts and they were beginning to overwhelm me. I knew this couldn’t continue. I needed to talk to Dieter about it. It was the only way to fix it. I decided I would after the show. 

I was so lost in my thoughts that I forgot my phone as we moved to the staging area, which meant our whole pre-performance hype song tradition was broken. It didn’t seem to phase Dieter. He just shrugged it off saying it wasn’t a big deal. Instead, he pulled me to stand in front of him as we watched the couple before us dance. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me back against him. 

I let his body heat sink into me, wrapping me up like a warm blanket. For a brief second, I forgot it all as I turned to glance up at him. He looked absolutely breathtaking. They had styled his hair in loose curls this time, allowing them to hang freely over his eyes. It was my favorite look on him so far. So much better than that slicked back bullshit they had been doing to him. The silky lavender button up he was wearing emphasized the broadness of his chest and shoulders, hugging his arms in a way that should be criminal. 

He seemed to notice me admiring him, causing him to move his mouth close to my ear, close enough that I could feel his warm breath exhaling against it. “I don’t think I’ve told you how amazing you look today. I love this color on you.”

I glanced up at him with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. It was nice to hear the compliment given that I found myself feeling extremely self conscious today, suddenly very aware of how small the dress made my boobs look. Fucking hell Kat, you’re being ridiculous. 

The minutes seemed to shrink to seconds as we waited for our turn. It came much faster than I anticipated. Before I knew it, we were taking our places on the dance floor. As the opening notes of the piano sounded through the ballroom, Dieter approached me from behind, wrapping one arm around my waist to pull me back against him. His free hand rose to my cheek, turning my face so that I would look at him. His nose nuzzled against mine as he caressed down the curve of my neck. His eyes pulled me into a trance-like state, like they always seemed to do when we performed together. The fire between us was set ablaze as I let the lyrics of the song really fully settle into the pit of my gut for the first time. I felt every word, every syllable, and poured those emotions into our performance as he spun me around the dance floor. 

A good portion of this routine had us making eye contact, lips grazing, hands gliding over bodies - it was probably our most intimate routine to date and it had me feeling everything. All the things that I had been desperately trying to shove into the box at the back of my mind were now strewn half haphazardly across my mind. It was overwhelming, causing the panic to bubble to the surface. I could feel it in every fiber of my being. I was terrified and unsure if I was ready to fully open my heart up to him, because if he didn’t want this, it would break me in a way that I knew I would struggle to come back from. 

I wasn’t strong enough to do this. Even though I didn’t feel this strongly for Alec, he still hurt me. I hadn’t realized how bad until this moment. I was still guarding my heart, struggling to knock down the wall that surrounded it, convinced my relationship with Dieter would eventually meet the same end…because I would never be enough. 

I knew Dieter could sense the turmoil in my thoughts. I could see it on his face. It didn’t take long before the tears were prickling at my eyes. I could see his nostrils flare as our eyes met, the panic was spreading to him now. I swear he knew what I was thinking as he seemed to try and reassure me with his eyes and his touch. 

Once we reached the end of the song, he surprised me by pulling me into his arms rather than doing a dip as planned. His hands found my cheeks as he pressed his forehead against mine. I could faintly hear him over the roar of the crowd asking me if I was ok as the lights dimmed. I couldn’t speak, because if I did, I would fall apart. So, I shook my head. He leaned in next to my ear and hugged me, “It’s ok, I’ve got you. I’m here.” 

When the lights popped back on, I peered up at him with tears in my eyes. He let out a controlled breath before pulling me along behind him to our interview spot. It took everything in me to hold it together through the judges' comments. I could feel Dieter’s arms tensing around me, his embrace tightening like he was trying to hold me together. It was obvious he was distracted as he rambled through his responses to whatever questions he was being asked as he shot worried glances my way. 

I knew I had to look like a lunatic on camera with my unblinking gaze fixed on nothing as the storm brewed inside. My breathing was slowly becoming more shallow as I fought back tears, because in that moment I knew that I couldn’t do this. My feelings for him were too much - all consuming. I had never felt anything this intense in my life and it scared the hell out of me. I knew this thing between us was absolutely going to destroy me if I let it go any further. If I gave that last piece of myself over to him, and he decided he wanted to move on after this, I wouldn’t survive it. 

I didn’t register what our scores were, simply going through the motions as Dieter forced a smile and hugged me against his side. Once they gave the signal that the camera was no longer on us, I pulled away, intent on going to my dressing room before I completely broke down in front of everyone. I couldn’t be in the middle of all the chaos of the show right now, I needed to be somewhere where I could breathe. 

By the time I stepped into the hallway, I was struggling for air as tears flooded my vision. I could hear Dieter behind me brushing off questions from the cast and crew as he trailed behind me. He called my name several times as he ran to catch up to me just as I was entering my dressing room. I moved to shut the door before he could enter, but his large hand stopped it. I looked up, our eyes connecting through the crack. I could see the panic on his pleading face, like he already knew. 

“Kat, talk to me. Please.”

I couldn’t hold back anymore, turning away from him as I buried my face in my hands and fought back the sobs that were threatening to break free. I heard the door close behind me, then his hands were on my shoulders, pulling me toward him. I shrugged him off and stepped away. When I finally turned to face him, the tears were flowing freely. Am I really gonna do this? Yes. Yes, I am.

The look on his face nearly split my heart in half and had me second guessing everything. 

“Dieter…I-I don’t think I can do this anymore.” 

He shook his head from side to side, “Kat, don’t… please.”

“I’m sorry, it’s…just too much…and I don’t know if any of what we’re feeling is real. I think…I think we just need to put on the brakes, at least until the show’s over. This is just too much, too fast. I can’t do it.”

Understanding seemed to cross his expression, “You think this is just another on set fling for me?” 

I sighed, “I-I don’t know. The circumstances we’re in, it’s not unusual for dance partners to have intense emotions like this. What we do, it requires a lot of trust and a bond that doesn’t always last after the dancing ends.” 

He came closer, hands reaching for me, but pausing to pull back at the last minute, “So, then we don’t stop dancing. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you in my life, Kat.”

His voice broke as he spoke. He was on the verge of tears himself now. 

I backed away, shaking my head, determined to stick to my decision. “I can’t. This was a bad idea. It was too soon, for the both of us.” 

His hands fisted at his sides as the tears slid down his cheeks, “I asked you…and you said you were sure. I told you from the beginning that I can’t go back to the way things were before. I meant it when I said it was all or nothing for me…and you said you were sure.” 

The memory of that night on the terrace in New York flooded all of my senses. The thrill and excitement that I had been feeling left no room in my mind to consider the consequences of our actions. All I knew then was that I wanted him, consequences be damned. I never imagined we would end up here.

He sighed, wiping at his face. “I know…my history doesn’t work in my favor, OK? I realize that…but I’m not that person anymore. Any remaining pieces of that person completely disappeared the moment I walked into that dance studio the first day. All those times before, they meant nothing to me and I’ve told you that. I didn’t have feelings for any of those people. I don’t even remember half of them…I wasn’t in a good place…I just wanted to feel something, but I didn’t. I was numb to it all…until you. I need you to understand that.” 

My heart was shattering seeing him like this. His response was visceral and raw. He was saying all the right things. I wanted to believe him, but I had been here before. I had heard a similar plea from Alec the first time he fucked up. I wanted to trust Dieter. My gut was telling me that I could, but my heart was building the wall taller. I stood in silence, watching every emotion play out on his face as I thought through things. He looked almost hopeful as I began to speak, but it quickly faded. 

“I - I…can’t. I just can’t. I wasn’t ready for this…I didn’t expect to…” fall in love with you.

My words trailed off. I couldn’t say it out loud, realizing this was the first time that I had ever actually been in love with someone. I don’t know what it was with Alec, but it wasn’t this. It was nothing close to this. 

I shook my head, “I’m sorry, Dieter. I can’t go through this again.” 

His mouth fell open as he huffed out a breath, “You…don’t believe that I’ve changed?”

Fuck. That wasn’t what I was implying at all. I shook my head, “Dieter, no…I...”

He held up his hand, rolling his lips together as he nodded, like he understood everything now. He seemed stoic all of a sudden, his distant eyes roaming over me like it was the last time before turning toward the door. He didn’t even bother to close it behind him as he disappeared down the hallway. 

My heart shattered into a million pieces as realization set in. I could sugar coat it all I wanted, but he wasn’t wrong. When I dug down to the root of the issue, it was because of his past. The seed had been planted and completely poisoned my thoughts and emotions against him. I had unintentionally done the one thing that would cut him the deepest, I didn’t believe in him - I didn’t believe he had changed. 

I didn’t know where to start or how to handle this. So, I did the only thing I could do at that moment. I moved to close the door, then turned to press my back against it. After sliding down to sit on the floor, I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face to muffle the sobs that raked through my body. I had made such a mess of everything, handling it in the worst way possible and completely fucking it all up. 

Tonight, I would go home. To my home - alone. I would spend the night replaying the last few weeks over and over in my mind, chastising myself as I tried to figure out where things went wrong and what I actually wanted. I felt overwhelmed and broken for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with Dieter, yet he was the one being punished and I was the one punishing him. 

Next: Week 9

✨Your Viennese Waltz video for this chapter can be found HERE. It's a steamy one. 😏

Hello my lovelies! Finally! A new chapter! Yay! 😬

Are you ready to come at me with pitch forks now? We knew the honeymoon period could only last so long, right? Kat has been in her head about this the whole time. I was surprised more people didn't see it coming...I think there was only one that sort of got it?

So, this chapter was a little different. We were very much in Kat's head and focused less on what was happening around her because she was focused less on it. Though...there was that steamy quality time with Dieter that she was very present for. 🤭

And before you ask, I did not list this week's song on purpose. There is a reason. We will find out what it was later...but there are hints. If someone can figure it out, I'll be nice and answer any question you have, even if it's a spoiler. 😏

The next chapter is going to be a doozy. There will be more angst. Dieter is going to have a little bit of a blow up (on camera). Kat has another conversation with her sister and it goes about like you might expect it to. There is so much scheming going on from Stacia, Joe, and Anika! Dieter struggles a bit and we get a classic misunderstanding. And something I'm sort of excited about...one of the characters we love to hate might get a little bit of a redemption arc. Any guesses on who?

Until next time, 💜Mysty

P.S. It seems some of my minor edits were not saved. If you see errors, that's on me because I'm too lazy to go through it all again. 😅

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