#please do not judge the room as it is in progress

[ryebread0605]

May I request a fic for Leona, please?

Reader (assumably Yuu) has a lot of cat-like behaviors that are really pretty unconscious. Things like scruffing Grim with their lips when he's being rowdy during class, grumbles that sound a lot like growling, other vocalizations, headbutting (nuzzling) & nibbling at people they're really close to, etc.

Some Beastmen find it kinda odd for a human to do?? But Leona kind of finds it endearing, especially when Reader gets closer to him & exhibits familiar behaviors from home without realizing they're lowkey courting him (and he's accepting the sweet behavior).

For the spice aspect?

Leona wants to see just how much like a cat they really are— including how they scratch at his back & growl in frustration while being edged. They may be a big cat, but he's the King of Savannaclaw. And while they're not a Beast, something tells him they'd make a good spouse who'd adjust quickly if he were to return to the Sunset Savanna.

- 🐈‍⬛ anon

I’ll do my best cat anon!! 

If you couldn’t tell, I absolutely ADORE Leona so this was a fun write!!!  (I made sure to add a cut where the smut begins!)

When he first met you, he didn’t think anything of you. Afterall, you were just another one of his classmates that he only saw the rare times he went to class. However, all that changed when he saw you interact with Grim in the greenhouse one day. 

The cat direbeast had been extra annoying that day, and although you loved him to bits, Sevens you were close to punting him. And so, to get him to stop running off and destroying stuff, you simply picked him up by his scruff with your mouth. To your surprise, and Leona’s, Grim immediately stopped misbehaving and just pouted in your grasp. 

From that day, you had gained Leona’s interest, and he noticed more little things about you that reminded him of cat beastmen like himself and Chen’ya. From bumping your head against people to show affection, gifting bones to people as a sign of friendship, and simply letting out a low warning growl at Grim whenever he misbehaved, he became convinced you were at least *part* beastman.

But no, no matter how many times he tried to find any other conclusion, you weren’t a beastman at all. However, him being interested in your behavior inadvertently got your attention on him as well. You felt yourself entranced by the way his ears would flick in irritation when chastised by Vil or how he still worked hard to maintain his unruly hair despite claiming he didn’t care how he looked.

Soon enough, he found random gifts being left at the door of his dorm room. It started small with some sticks, which he threw away thinking nothing of it. Then it progressed to small animal teeth before growing to full animal skeletons. After months, he finally caught you in the act as you left a fresh, high quality steak at his doorstep. He stared at you, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as his tail swayed in slight curiosity.

“Herbivore, what’re you doing here?” His voice was gruff, having clearly just woken from a nap judging by his mess of a mane. And yet, when things clicked in his mind, it was only a split second longer until you were tugged into his room with the door shutting behind you. 

Digging your nails into the sheets, you growled out moans as the lion prince rutted into you continuously. Your neck was covered in bite marks, showing everyone who had claimed you. Your back had cum on it from him, and yet despite him cumming twice he had refused to let you cum at all. Letting out another threatening growl as he pulled out just before you climaxed, he quickly gripped the back of your neck between his teeth just as you had done to Grim all those months ago to gain his attention. Afterall, you may act like a cute kitty but he had to remind you who truly was the one in charge here

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI • Anthony Bridgerton x Reader • The Viscount’s visits to your bedroom have become regular, beautiful occurrences by now, but he still has much to teach you. Includes oral sex (f receiving) and talk of losing virginity.

PART ONE | PART TWO

By now, the visits Lord Bridgerton made to your room in the night were familiar…a beautiful ritual kept secret from everyone else in Mayfair. You waited by the window for his arrival, for his wordless entry into your bedchamber, an eager student anticipating her instructor’s next lesson.

And the viscount was indeed an excellent teacher. While his presence alone was more than enough to send your body into a spiral of desire, his mouth in particular had become the object of your deepest need. At first, his kisses remained as chaste as they could be under the circumstances, tracing your lips, cheeks and chin. But as your nights together progressed, Anthony’s kisses trailed lower, sucking and licking down your neck and along your shoulders.

By his own standards, Anthony was restraining himself tremendously. He wanted to bury his cock inside your sweet, ripe cunt, to know its curves and contours before any other man would. When he left you for home each night, Anthony’s dreams were filled with filling you, his bedclothes soiled every morning with sweat and cum from restless dreams of claiming your virgin cunt as his own. Each night he guided your hand and watched you come, he came with you, his body hovering over yours on the bed, his erection pressed against the mattress between your parted legs, grinding uselessly against it.

Anthony wasn’t sure how much longer his performance of control could last. Eventually, he would break, and when he did, Anthony feared more than anything the risk of hurting you, both physically and worst of all, your reputation, especially the standard you held yourself to. Perhaps he was pushing you further than he ought? Should a young woman of high standing such as yourself really be the object of a man like Anthony’s affection? He sometimes worried his handling of you was little better than the treatment he’d showed the many whores he’d had. And yet…you were different. You were, to be fair, the complete opposite of a whore. You were brand new, or at least your sexuality was. There were so many things you had yet to experience, and Anthony wanted to be the man that introduced you to all of them…

Tonight, his kisses are different. There’s an aggression in him you aren’t accustomed to seeing, or feeling. His teeth bare over your shoulder, lightly scratching your skin just enough to make you flinch. Anthony pulls back immediately, lifting his face to meet your eyes, a breathless apology whispered from his lips against yours. You cup your hand to his cheek, smiling sweetly back at him in the darkness. “I am well, my Lord,” you assure him. “Please…do not stop.”

He nuzzles his forehead against your shoulder, soothing the place his teeth grazed. A sheen of sweat transfers from his skin to yours; Anthony’s body is awash in heat, his heart thudding against your chest as he lays overtop you. Your hips shift beneath Anthony’s, his erection prodding your inner thigh. You wonder again, as you do every night, what it is that he’s hiding down there, the thing he won’t let you see? He tells you you’re not ready for that yet, that he still has more to teach you before that particular lesson might be given. Your curiosity gets the better of you tonight, leading your hand to wander beneath the covers, daring to slip between your bodies and blindly grope for the rigid part of Anthony he judges you unready for…

He whips his head up to face you, bringing his hand around your jaw in a firm, yet tender grasp. “No,” he whispers in a stern tone, softening his disapproval with “not yet, my sweet one. Patience…”

Anthony takes your wrist in his much-larger hand and guides it away from the place it searches. He’s admittedly surprised by your boldness in making such a move, and a lesser gentleman would have seized upon such innocent curiosity and exploited it. But Anthony is determined to be a patient tutor, to the best of his ability. The impossible balance of self control and indulgence he’s enduring is all for your benefit, he tells himself. To rush you into sex too quickly would be crass and ugly, not becoming of a young woman such as yourself. Anthony has come to admire you even more than he desires you. And he never plays too roughly with the things he cherishes...

“When, my lord?” you ask, your eyes wide and expecting. “When will you allow me all of you?”

Anthony resists the urge to curse, but fuck does he want to. It’s as if you’re doing your damndest to ruin him and his feeble hold on honor all at once, securing his end with nothing more than a sweet plea and an innocent gaze.

He tenses his jaw, breathing deeply. “A woman…such as yourself-.” Anthony pauses. “-Is worth waiting for…to be tenderly guided, not selfishly taken.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips; the rigid, hidden part of Anthony moves against your thigh. “Do you understand?”

You nod agreeably, softly replying “yes, my lord. I trust the you know what is best.”

Anthony’s lips turn up in a grin. “I do,” he affirms. “And whilst moving forward too quickly would be a mistake…” He shifts his body down the bed a bit, chin hovering above your stomach. “…I see no reason why tonight’s lesson should be merely one of repetition...”

Anthony takes your hips in his hands, clutching the soft skin in his calloused grip. You draw in a sharp breath, unaccustomed to being touched in such a way and by hands as rough as Lord Bridgerton’s. Anthony’s tongue glides warm and wet down the length of your torso, his lips pausing at the coarse tuft of hair framing your sex. He rests his nose against the curly bed, inhaling the scent of arousal that clings to your quivering thighs. Anthony kisses your clit with the slightest pressure; your hips buck abruptly in response. “My lord…” you squeak. “It…it hurts.” While it isn’t a question, Anthony knows you’re likely overwhelmed. You’ve never been stimulated sexually like this before, and it must be very confusing. “Do not fret, dear one,” Anthony murmurs softly, his warm breath dusting your pubic hair. “The pain will go away, as it always does. Only this time, allow me to relieve the aching for you…”

Anthony holds your eyes as he extends his tongue to tap your clit. Your hips shiver again, held down and spread open by his strong grasp. Anthony flattens his tongue against your clit, allowing you to adjust to the new intensity the gesture creates. His cock throbs against the mattress, precum leaking into the fabric of his trousers as his very first taste of your cunt sinks over his tastebuds. Your hands are on Anthony’s shoulders, gripping his shirt in your fists, your knees framing his body. Holding you down more firmly, Anthony lowers his head and begins to lick you in wide, slow strokes. He drags his tongue across your lips and up over your engorged clit, feeling it throb at his touch. You’ve released Anthony’s shirt, now clutching your pillow to your face to keep quiet the sounds you’re making.

He parts your labia gently and carefully with his tongue, spreading you tenderly like a delicacy to be savored, not a meal to be rushed. You taste like bourbon and rain, Anthony thinks, like the licorice candy he’s so fond of stealing from his younger siblings. Your slick is copious and warm, like the morning air in the first days of Summer, like the mellow dew beaded on the Wisteria growing outside the Bridgerton home. Anthony dips his tongue between your folds, savoring your sweet flavor. It’s a flavor unknown to all but him, as even you have never tasted the product of your own arousal. The beauty of this gift is not lost on Anthony; he cherishes each coat of your slick, syrupy essence as he laps between your lips in thick, languid strokes.

Your words are lost in a mix of grunts and moans uttered into your pillow, every thought in your head dissolved and melted into Anthony’s mouth. You’re not even a person at this point, only a need, a creature like any other animal chasing its own based, primal yearning. Your body writhes indulgently under Anthony’s hold, hips grinding against his face, smearing him in the juices flooding your cunt. White hot pleasure seizes you, blanching your vision as everything in the world ceases to exist beyond Anthony’s mouth. He feels the vibrations of your climax through his tongue, feels your soul shattering to a million pieces and forming back together again in his hands.

Silky, pearlescent liquid drips between Anthony’s lips as he licks you through your climax. It feels like your body’s on fire from the inside out, a beautiful tangle of pleasure and pain that nips at your groin and twists your insides into delicious knots. Anthony’s hands are everywhere, rubbing your clit and squeezing the plumpest parts of your ass and hips, groping you in a possessive haste as if he’ll never have the opportunity to touch you again. He watches your lips flutter and pulse, slick gushing from between them as a second orgasm is spurred by the first. He’s never seen a woman come so hard before, with such innocent and unabashed rapture. It stirs something primal and almost sadistic within Anthony, a sense of pride in pleasuring you eclipsed by dominance. Now that he’s seen you lose control completely, without the reservation and shyness you’ve previously displayed, he craves more. If this is how you respond to his mouth between your legs, how much more powerfully will your body respond when his cock is buried inside you, making you come till you’re begging him to stop? And will he be able to stop? Will his sense of honor fail completely in that moment, devolving Anthony into little more than a selfish, barbaric creature intent on pushing you beyond the point of ruin?

He looks up from between your legs, catching your eyes. Their lids are heavy, lashes wet with tears, eyes glassy with an expression that tells him your mind is as good as removed from this world. Anthony knows he could take you now, in the pliant, weakened state you’re in. And considering how deeply you want him to give you all of himself, Anthony knows he’d likely meet no objection from you. But when your head lands back on the pillow, your skin flush and wet with perspiration, he realizes that to take you any further would be too much. Too selfish, too cruel. Of course you want more of him. And of course Anthony wants to give it to you, but not like this. Not when you’ve just experienced orgasms so powerful, your body is depleted of all its strength. The gentleman in Anthony once again wins out, in spite of the tug in his groin, and in spite of his predilection to indulging his own selfish needs.

He lifts himself off the bed from between your legs, wiping his dripping chin on his sleeve. You lift your head from the pillow with considerable effort, wide eyes expectant, your arm extending for him. “You’re not leaving, my lord?”

It’s more of a demand than a question. But Anthony is in control here, he reminds himself. He closes a hand over his erection, rubbing away some of the tension through his trousers. “You must rest, (y/n),” he says, his voice thick, tongue heavy. “I will return.” Anthony crouches beside you on the bed, pulling his fingertip along your jawline, soothing away the tears growing cold on your cheek.

“Soon?” you ask. It sounds very much like you’re begging, but you couldn’t care less. You are begging, craving him. Craving more of Anthony’s mouth, his kisses, his tongue, and…the part of him he won’t yet share with you. The part he’s making you wait for, and in his wisdom, you know Anthony is honorable for making you wait. “Tomorrow night,” he assures you, a warm smile turning his wet lips upward. “Wait for me as usual, beside your window.” He exhales, the scent of your sex washing over the air between you. Anthony leans in and kisses you softly, a kiss you press into but he draws back, taking your hands in his and squeezing them gently. “Tomorrow,” Anthony reaffirms. He releases your hands and makes his way to the window, where you’ve seen him enter and depart several times over the past two weeks. “I think,” he adds, in a whisper. “That you did exceptionally well tonight, (y/n). You allowed yourself to surrender fully, completely to pleasure, without an ounce of hesitation or shame.” Your heart skips at Anthony’s praise, and the possibility it implies. He licks his lips, eyes fluttering closed…one final taste of you to last him till tomorrow. “With your explicit permission, (y/n),” Anthony says softly. “I would very much like to claim your purity tomorrow night…for my own.” You swallow, understanding Anthony’s meaning. He wants to give you all of him, and in doing so, take something very important from you: your virginity.

“You have my permission, my lord,” you reply, noting the way Anthony’s chest swells in a satisfied breath of finality, of agreement. Of accomplishment. Of claiming you. He nods a silent confirmation of understanding between you, and turns for the window to make his leave. You watch the curtains lolling inward on the breeze, inhaling the scent of hydrangeas drifting in…listening to Anthony’s footsteps fading as he departs, drifting gently into dreams… 🥀

PART FOUR

[a-b-riddle]

Not me imagining medic reader who acts weird around Ghost.

At first everyone thinks that you’re just weirded out. 6’4 wall of a man in a skull mask. His eyes covered in black makeup and eyes such a deep brown they’re almost black. Anyone in their right mind would be on edge.

But then as time progresses it doesn’t stop. You don’t ease up no matter how many times you’ve been around Ghost. Eventually the 141 begins to suspect something much more sinister.

Theories of knowing something about Ghost you shouldn’t. Are you working for Makarov and worried? Your eyes never leave him anytime he enters a room. Your voice wavering anytime he asks you a question. You’re not like that with the others. You’re hiding something. And they know it.

Johnny is the one you’ve gotten closest to in the 141. The one who wants to believe you’re not a traitor. You’re Birdie for Christ’s sake. Their bird, as they call you. You couldn’t be betraying them. He’s able to convince the guys to let him get you drunk. See if you slip up.

It’s a quiet night on base. Johnny had manage to get flavored vodka imported. Enticing you to come have a drink in his barracks.

And boy, do you.

You get too tipsy to notice how off Johnny seems. How his voice is softer, more alluring. You also down notice the phone face down on the table, serving as a live walkie-talkie between him and the others listening in Price’s office.

Johnny and you bullshit around. Talking about F1 racing, the need for more help in the medbay and even what your plans are when you get back home.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He needs to know.

“What’s your deal with the Simon?” He finally asks. His question grants you pause, almost instantly sobering you up. Johnny sees it in your eyes. His heart breaking because he begins to believe he was wrong.

“Hen,” his hand grabs yours, when you don’t say anything. “I know something is going on.” You try and pull away but he doesn’t let go.

“Have-” you begin, trying to figure out how to tell him. Johnny is your friend. He wouldn’t care. But you fail to come up with the words. “Fuck.”

“Please.” He begs. “You know you can tell me.” You wait. Contemplating if you should tell him. But then it could mean losing any respect you had earned with them.

“You can’t judge me.” You made him promise, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I won’t.” He promises, offering a squeeze of reassurance. He knew that the moment you confessed to whatever it was you were hiding, the team would be in there. He knew what would happen to you. And although there were no romantic feelings he held toward you, he still cared.

You took a deep breath.

“It’s the mask.” You confessed. “It’s hot.” Now it was Johnny’s turn to pause.

The mask?

“What?” He asked in disbelief, pulling his hand off of yours. “What do you mean it’s hot?” “You’re worried that he’s sweating underneath it.”

“I want to fuck him.” It felt like a weight lifted the moment your confession of lust escaped your lips.

Johnny sat there, knowing his Captain, fellow Sergeant and, most importantly, his Lieutenant were listening on the other end of the phone.

“Simon.” he clarified. “Ye want to fuck Simon.”

“I mean if he keeps the mask on.” You shrug, looking at his bewildered expression. “It’s a kink, Johnny. Some people like feet or being led around on a dog leash.” You down the rest of the sweetened liquor, cringing as the last sip makes your stomach flip. “Men in masks do it for me. It’s a thing now. Lots of women like it.”

He doesn’t say anything. The room filled with uncomfortable silence until he breaks out in laughter.

“If you say anything, I will murder you and we both know I can make it look like an accident.” You threaten.

“Feckin’ hell.” He sighs, wiping tears from his eyes. “This isn’t how I expected the conversation to go.”

“Well,” you say standing, needing a moment to get your bearings. “It’s also over. I’m calling it a night.”

“I’ll walk ye back to yer room.” He says standing.

“No need.” You wave off. “I’m good.”

He knows you’re right. But now guilt eats away at him for even thinking you were a traitor. So he lets you go, listening to the sound of your footsteps fading as you walk down the empty corridor.

Several minutes later the others join him in his barracks. None of them saying something until, Johnny looks at Simon.

“Looks like the little Bird has a thing for you, Lt.”

Simon rolls his eyes.

Thankful that his mask is hiding his shit eating grin.

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

Requests are up, right?

If so, hiii! Could I please request a Viktor x wealthy nobleman reader angst set in s1 and during the timeskip? Maybe to do with reader’s parents are forcing him into an arranged marriage so he can’t be with Viktor but they’re still trying to make it work??? Don’t feel obligated to write this it’s up to you n e wayz have a good day thankss ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

viktor x male! wealthy nobleman! reader

angst, (implied) smut, some dialogue. an experimental little thing, really.

word count: 1,7k

author’s note: this request. it’s so scrumptious. so beautiful. so delightful. thank you for asking me to write this, i don’t think i’ve met your expectation but i certainty tried to throw in some extra angst. enjoy, my darling anon!

—

He wakes up in a sweat-slick frenzy and there’s salt dribbling down his neck when he reaches to feel it, scraping matted hair off his pale skin. 

The sheets beneath him are crumpled into intractable waves. The detritus of his restless sleep and whatever erotic mess he’d made out of you a few hours ago. But when his arm crawls to your side of the bed, smoothing over the rippled splendour, his fist clenches around nothing. 

Heavy lids flutter with effort when his ochre eyes roll beneath the chestnut strands, fruitlessly roaming around the pompous room. All claret patches of luxurious furniture curdling into countless voids in the dim light. There’s something so inherently you and not-you-in-the-slightest all the same clashing inside this chamber. Gaudy, and tasteless, and redundantly sandalwood. Duck-feather pillows and thick mattresses. Exuberant safety. 

Viktor rests his eyes, propping his head up on a trembling hand. He could never get used to this. He could never get used to you. Your reputee. Your respectable decorum. The things he’s supposed to enjoy—or, rather, try to make amends with.

And yet, they’re still so foreign and confusing. He swears there’s a myriad snarky insults written all over this gigantic house—on every ridiculous vintage lamp and on the mortifying softness of your carpets—hell, even the curtains sway at him sibilantly, somehow. 

He especially loathes the mirrors—those eerie, gilded culprits. It’s not that he despises the reflection. Anything but that. It’s mostly the way he clashes with the grandeur that makes him avert his eyes. Away from the jaunty reminder that he doesn’t belong here. 

Hw slips one leg off the bed, gaining precarious hold of his cane through drowsy confusion. Hides the slopes of pointy shoulders beneath his flimsy shirt, but leaves it unbuttoned. Counts puce hickeys strewn across his chest and cockily runs his heavy tongue over each molar when the number exceeds ten. 

He doesn’t bother with the belt, either. Simply trudges out of the room with pants hanging low on hips and lets his walk become gallus when he passes Agnes. The maid throws him a judging glance. She knows. And he knows she knows. You’re not exactly secretive about the blissed debaucheries happening in that spacious bedroom every time your venerable parents leave the City of Progress.

Too bad he doesn’t care enough to keep you out of trouble. It’s more of an eye-for-an-eye dilemma. You’re still so skittish to address him as your partner during those numerous fancy galas. Janna, he can’t even make it to the guest list. It’s like you completely lack the balls (and the appendage is definitely there—Viktor did check, after all). But it’s okay. Viktor can be the ballsy one. He can rub it in their faces on your behalf. And tonight the maid’s face falls victim to his stunt. 

He asks if she’d seen you, sickeningly glibly. Finds the audacity to address you by your first name, with his head tilted cheekily to the side.

“He’s in the drawing room,” Agnes mumbles, looking away. “Playing the piano.” 

Viktor hums. Of course. He should’ve guessed. He thanks her with a snide nod and takes his leave. Thinks of just how oblivious rich people are to their antics: it’s ridiculous that the sounds of a literal keyboard instrument fail to reach every room in this enormous mansion. It makes him really ponder the size. So much space for privilege, yet not an inch for love. Boastful quarters built on ingenuity.

The door makes a heavy screech when he comes in, panting hard. He finds you at the edge of your padded seat, all tense shoulders and rigid breaths, cheeks blooming a frustrated, sweaty pink. Your fingers are torturing the keyboard, tapping out a bluesy, messy tune. He leans on the doorframe, forehead landing against mahogany with a light thump. And when he notices the expensive ruffled shirt he’d torn at earlier, he can’t help but linger on the patch of skin bearing evidence of his kiss.

Your melody gains a sharper edge, all whiny chords clashing in a dismissed plea—either to gods or your conniving ancestry, but that’s open to interpretation. Could be both, really.

It’s not often that he gets to admire his boy like this—tumultuous and rigid, sweaty forehead contorted with veins in your angry awe. And Viktor doesn’t want to startle you. He sneaks behind your back and hovers above your shoulders, his breath a sly tickle against your fevered temple. But his presence grounds you. Your limbs tumble, going limp as they slide off the trembling keyboard. The piano strings are still vibrating when you turn to kiss him, wet lips meeting chapped. 

He glides under your tongue and hums something indistinct, but his words get swallowed before you can make them out. Franticly, you cling to him, desperate fingers clasping around bony thighs, and down he goes, pulled into your lap—a bubbly giggle rasping against your mouth when he straddles you. He tastes of boldness, sweat and something delirious. Runs his hands up and down your back while his own arches into the keyboard and hits one cacophonic chord. It has you leaping out of your seat, hairs on ends like a skittish cat. Viktor looks at you, and his mouth unravels into a boyish smile.

“Am I interrupting?” He finds his voice, still groggy from the aftermath of his slumber. 

You offer him an apologetic wink of both tired eyes. “You startled me.”

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry. You should have kept going. I quite liked that improvisation.”

You both laugh. 

He rakes his hand up your neck, bony fingers circling the bulge of your voice. They draw a gulp. But your face looks strained, brows knitted together in something bizarrely tic-like—and it doesn’t go away even when his lips line up with that sensitive slope, licking, kissing, biting their way down to clavicles. 

“What’s troubling you?” He whispers, leaning back. Stares at the glistening stripe of his saliva and swallows hard, matching your flush when you turn away to gnaw at your bottom lip. Now both mouths can chew the tension and taste its iron.

“Nothing?” You try to lie, but your delivery is just a tad too quizzical. Like you’re asking him to narrow it down for you, to find the answer on your behalf. Too bad he would never do you such favors. 

He fists his hand into your hair, tugging hard. It forces you to look back into his mighty eyes—oh that lovely, oxidised copper—and orders you to speak from the altitude of his posture. You shudder, seeking mercy. He doesn’t have any to give. Not tonight.

“There’s clearly something,” Viktor insists, letting go of your hair. Your scalp tingles with a delicious scorch. “I don’t appreciate the covertness. Especially when you’re hardly able to keep it up. You never play quite as… vehemently unless you’re upset.” 

“It’s Agnes,” you crack, looking at the doorway. The maid is not there, but the weight of her gaze haunts you everytime you sneak Viktor inside, even when she’s not there to witness you cling to him. “She, er— My parents are threatening to fire her. She told me she can no longer keep concealing our… secret. ” 

“So be it.” Viktor shrugs. “Let her talk. She needs her income. It’s not like they’re not aware of my existence anyway.”

You scoff. “Yes, but it’s not like they’re particularly fond of you, either.”

“Since when does that distress you?” He snaps right back at you, and his loving hands instantly withdraw from their hold of you, clenching into fists instead. “You can’t possibly be taking their input into consideration, can you?” 

For a moment, you simply stare at each other, eyes shooting angry stardust. You can feel a dry, nervous cough tickle at your throat, and the blood buzzing in your temples and pressing hard. You have to tell him. Preferably, now. 

Because Viktor is oblivious to the ultimatum you were given all those months ago. Here he is, looking down at you full of puzzled devotion, smug, and sweet, and so utterly soft. And he doesn’t know that you are to be married to another man. To one meticulously picked out by your parents through tedious meetings. Oh just how many times have your ears bled during their insipid speeches about how you should stick to someone of your own kind. And just how you despised their demeaning crap about witnessing their noble boy’s downfall. 

And the punchline? Well, it is nonexistent. You still haven’t grown a fraction of a backbone. You bend to their will and adhere to self-pity, painfully wary of how to break this circle. It’s just that you let your fear prevail. 

And it’s a thing to be ashamed of. Because how dare you hold him close, all intertwined limbs and glassy eyes locking with such yearning—all the while you fail to muster the courage to offer him elopement. Hell, to even tell him the truth. You don’t deserve him—not now, not ever. Cowards are not to form bonds with those who never ask for permission. 

So you wet your lips, anxiously staring up. Your hands bonelessly dangle at your sides, as if terrified of reaching for him again. You’re going to tell him. It’s right there, at the tip of your tongue, threatening to leap out your mouth like an insult one doesn’t mean. You just have to do it like he does: be bold, be brave, start talking—

“Of course, Viktor,” you mumble instead, feeling the shame creep down your throat. “I don’t care what they think. I’m sorry.”

His eyes flicker with that familiar, joyful spark of his. Fawning at you so gently that your heart almost bleeds through the fancy shirt, almost crumbling right then and there when he scoots closer again. You simply close your eyes, smiling when his hot breath fondles your face. You’re never going to tell him, are you? 

Something inside you dies when he kisses your cheek, lean body tensing atop yours as he commences an embrace that you return with guilty reluctance, hiding your ugly tears against the mess of his hair. 

“Good,” Viktor whispers, holding you through your shudder. “Now, could you play me that nocturne I like, please?”

You grip the piano hard enough to leave nail marks on the gorgeous instrument.

[yaekiss]

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔

꩜ Room Content: GN! Top! Bathysmal Vishap! Reader x Subby! Bottom! Neuvillette, spoilers for Genshin Archon Quest 4.2, no gendered terms for reader, reader is a bathysmal vishap, Neuvillette has a dragon form, both reader and Neuvillette have hemipenes/two cocks, cloaca fucking (Neuvillette receiving), frotting, praise (Neuvillette receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: If you don't want to read about dragon vishap smut, don't read this one LOL. I know I said "between 800-1500 words". This one just ran away from me ok shhhh. I also made up some draconic courtship lore, don't look too hard at it (but please tell me if you think it's cute thank you <3) anyways ENJOY !!! ꩜ This was written for @coingbee as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the event post above ^^

The Hydro Sovereign has returned to their full power.

From beneath the surface, your head lifts. Judging by the excited clicks and chirps made by the rest in the community, it seems as if the others have sensed it too. 

Whilst your fellow bathysmal vishaps murmur and chatter wildly with each other about whether or not to head up to the surface, you’ve already come to a decision. Without wasting another minute, you’re already hightailing it upwards towards the surface, tracking the whereabouts of your Hydro Sovereign via the trail of draconic power traces.

Following the trail takes you all the way into Fontaine. Along the way, you’ve adamantly ensured not to take routes with higher human traffic. The very thought of even crossing paths with one sends your mind twisting with a hatred and loathing so foul. 

As your journey progressed, the ebbing and flowing stream of the trail you’ve been tracking gradually grows stronger and stronger as your distance travelled increases. Until, finally, you’re sure you’re close to the end and even closer to meeting the Hydro Sovereign when the trail stops and seems to be wholly focused and condensed into a solitary being nearby.

Your head emerges from beneath the water, breaking the still surface, sending ripples outwards. Eagerness bubbles within you as you anticipate finally meeting with the Hydro Sovereign that the bathysmal vishaps have been biding their time for, restlessly awaiting the return of their Dragon Lord. The moonlight of the evening is lovely, reflecting off the flow of the ripples.

And yet, as you crane your head to look over to where the water laps gently at the shore, to where the trail you’ve been tirelessly following should end, you feel your blood chill.

All you see is a mere human who stares out into the vast sea.

A split second is all it takes for any previous semblance of anticipation to morph into disbelief and bitterness. Surely, this can’t be! After all this time, was the undying hope in seeing the return of the Hydro Sovereign wasted on some farce? A prime example of a cruel sadistic joke the high heavens would play at your expense, just to see you inevitably crumble at the grand reveal? 

Consumed by your emotions for a moment, you can’t help but regret not having forsaken your sight as your ancestors did. For perhaps if you had followed in their footsteps, you would’ve been able to bask in the exalted presence of your Sovereign leader, albeit for the price of blissful ignorance. 

However, there is still a stubborn, restless part in your mind that wishes to understand just how you could have been so misled like this, how you had managed to be fooled into tracking the trail of a human all this time. 

In a bat of an eye, you swim and make it to the shoreline, the coarse sand crunching under your claws. The disturbance causes the human to notice you, startled by the sudden appearance of a bathysmal vishap. (Although, strangely enough, no trace of fear shows on their face, and they make no move to scurry away.)

As the tension between the two of you grows, you advance slowly towards the human, low hissing sent to them as a warning. And suddenly, they try soothing you in a tongue that’s nothing but familiar to you.

Before your mind can keep up with the fact that this mere human can communicate with your kind, your head has already instinctively lowered along with your gaze pointed down towards the ground in deference to the undeniable traces of draconic authority in their tone and voice.

And when you feel a gloved hand lightly patting under your chin, trying to usher you back up to your previous position, you're struck with the dilemma of relishing in the awe of the unmistakable power of the Hydro Sovereign thrumming beneath or scorning the fact that you've allowed a human to touch you so casually.

(Does it really matter if the human in question is technically your Dragon Lord? The uncertainty leaves a sour taste in your mouth.)

Nevertheless, with enough insistence, they manage to raise your head back up before they start up the conversation.

“Greetings. I am sure you must have many questions regarding my form-” you nod, “-Very well, I suppose an explanation of events both recent and bygone is in order.” Through this, you learn briefly about the matters that have transpired, that his name is Neuvillette, that he is the both Iudex and the Hydro Dragon.

“I expect that you would take this information back to the rest of the vishaps, and that soon I might see more of you on the surface-” his tone drops to one more stern and absolute, “-With this, should any of the human Fontanians meet any unjust or unreasonable form of harm from your kind, I shall not hesitate in enacting the appropriate judgement.” 

An understanding reached, you return back to your community as a sort of newly appointed mouthpiece. However, this proves not to be your last meeting with the Sovereign. No, far from it, really.

The sun starts to dip below the horizon as you slink languidly behind Neuvillette on a stroll together at the area outside of the Opera Epiclese. A couple melusines ride atop your back, Blathine and Veleda. You’ve come to remember their names after Neuvillette encouraged you and the melusines to get along more. (And you might have a soft spot for them after realising the fondness the Hydro Sovereign extends to them.)

The sight of the Chief Justice, along with a literal vishap essentially piggybacking two melusines might seem to be an odd sight to most. However, Fontanians have simply gotten used to this after the first few instances. 

“Ah, there goes the Iudex and the melusines, and that big ol’... weird lizard he keeps around again, for the third time this week,” you hear someone in the surroundings say.

“Huh. Good for him, I guess,” someone else says in reply.

Despite all the time you’ve spent around humans while at your Sovereign’s side, you still haven’t quite managed to readily want to take up the form of one. Hence, the reason why there was a vishap right in front of the Fountain of Lucine. 

Sometimes the Fontanians comment that you’re some sort of big guard dog for Neuvillette. (Honestly, you can’t quite find it in yourself to be opposed to being seen as a protector for someone you hold dear. Plus, it made for easier piggyback rides for the melusines and you enjoy seeing the warmth on Neuvillette’s face when he sees them having fun.)

As the sky darkens and the stars above begin to twinkle, the both of you drop the melusines off at their destinations. Soon, you’ve strolled to the coastline, the soft sound of sea water crashing against the shore blending into the ambient noise in the peaceful evening. Admiring the moonlight glistening and skating across the body of water, you break the comfortable silence first.

“I shall be travelling back to the depths tomorrow, is there any message you would like me to pass on to the bathysmal vishaps?” 

Ever since your first meeting with Neuvillette, more and more of the others have been venturing out and up to the surface with the return of the Hydro Dragon. Due to your enthusiasm in meeting with the Sovereign, the responsibilities of monthly reports and announcements now fall on your back. (Sigh, is this what you get for being the first one back up? “The early bathysmal vishap meets the Hydro Sovereign,” or something of the like?)

“Ah. Has it already been a month since the last one?” He pauses to think, before continuing, “No, I don’t have any information or messages to relay.”

Another short lull in the conversation, you note that he seems to be mulling something over as he thumbs along the handle of his cane in quiet contemplation.

“I hope I am not overstepping as I say this, however, I find myself reluctant to part with you. I find that the time that we spend together is invaluable and that I oftentimes catch myself longing for your presence whenever we are apart,” he communicates this to you, the vulnerability apparent in his words.

“Perhaps, my confession would be more sincere if I were not restricted in my human form.”

As he says this, he wades into the waters, then dives under when deep enough. There’s a change in the atmosphere surrounding you, a heavier pressure forming and coalescing as a vivid bright blue starts to glimmer from the depths.

You look out expectantly, waiting with bated breath, and before long, the mirror surface of the water begins to ripple and distort from something significant moving underneath. Its streamlined movements rocket it towards where you’re standing, and as the level of the water decreases, more of its form is revealed until ultimately, the Hydro Dragon stands before you in all of his glory.

His serpentine frame towers high above you, almost double your height, with smooth iridescent azure scales covering the top of his body and claw-tipped flippers. The colour of his scales transition gradually from blue to ivory white in areas like his underside and neck. His powerful tail relaxes in the shallows, occasionally swishing, causing little waves in the water.

Casting your gaze further up, you see the familiar sight of his glowing tendrils, extending down from the two sides of the back of his head. He cranes his head downwards in one fluid motion, closing the distance between the two of you as he levels you with piercing lavender slitted pupils.

Driven by natural instinct, you bow at the display of ancient authority.

“Raise your head, after all, have you not managed to worm your way into the space next to my heart?” You hear his voice in your mind, the edges of his words pronounced with the slightest hint of a gravelly growl in this new form.

He shifts in closer, nudging his head under yours to lift your gaze back up so that it meets his own.

“As I expected. This form truly is more freeing for myself. Now, I am able to do this,” The tendrils by his head seem to glow more intensely before he can continue. The almighty Hydro Dragon is… blushing?

“Forgive me if I am too forward, however,” there’s nothing but sincerity in his gaze, “Would you allow me to entwine with you?”

Neuvillette's simple question sends your mind reeling. The act of entwining is an incredibly  personal act of intimacy and often indicates the start of courtship in draconic species, one that signals everlasting devotion and commitment.

Usually, entwining is done with tails in regular vishap species. However, species with tendrils can also choose to use them instead of their tails since many believe the gesture to be more heartfelt. It is also said that the closer the frills or spines that the tendrils wrap around are to the head, the stronger the affection that the dragon has for the receiving party.

“I ask this of you not as the Hydro Dragon but rather, as Neuvillette. The one who has seen you cherish and care for the melusines, the one who has had walks under the rain with until the stars have emerged in the clear night sky.” He tilts his head down, tone serious. “That is to say, I do not wish to have your agreement only be one made out of obligation to authority.”

A beat of silence passes as your brain scrambles to process Neuvillette pouring his heart out to you, and you realise that your lack of an answer causes him to hesitate. (His tendrils droop a little and you think you see rain clouds starting to form.)

Before he can apologise or backtrack, you shift forward, headbutting him lightly to shake him out of his crestfallen state.

“Of course, Neuvillette.”

Upon hearing your answer, he instantly brightens and he goes to nuzzle his cheek against the side of your snout. 

“Do excuse me if I execute this wrongly, I’ve never done it before after all,” he comments before gingerly manipulating his glowing tendrils so that they coil around the spines closest to your head on either side. 

Up close, you can see everything so clearly, the tenderness in his gaze that he holds specifically for you. You can’t help but playfully bump your forehead against his, making him emit a content low rumble.

When he untangles and pulls back up, you swipe your tongue briefly against one of his tendrils, something akin to a quick kiss. This elicits a shiver from Neuvillette, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Apologies, ahem, it seems that my tendrils are quite the sensitive area. This full form is still somewhat new to me, and I have not had the chance to discover and understand everything about it just yet,” he squirms lightly against you.

“So how about we find out together? No time like the present, after all,” your tone is sly, charged with a salacious intent that causes Neuvillette to stiffen, tendrils glowing even more intensely than before.

Saying nothing, he swiftly manoeuvres his lithe body until he’s lying supine on his back,.  he exposes his vulnerable underbelly to you, an act so trusting that it roots you to the spot in disbelief for a brief second. Your eyes travel down until you catch sight of his cloacal opening already growing slick.

“Teach me well, beloved.”

Using his tail, he ushers you onto his larger form, where you clamber until you've positioned your slit against his. And when you grind downwards, you can feel him tremble beneath you.

“Hah… I wasn’t aware that it would feel this good,” you hear his voice shake with arousal in your mind. Maybe it’s a side effect of telepathic draconic communication, yet, it’s almost as if you can feel everything he’s feeling, like all your sensations are linked with his, increasing the pleasure bubbling up within you twofold. 

He takes the initiative this time, pushing his bottom half upwards to rut against you. It’s not long before the both of you are reduced to grinding against each other, each moving in tandem in order to maximise the pleasure. 

Suddenly, Neuvillette halts all action, causing you to freeze and check up on him.

“I’m alright. I only stopped because it seems like your hemipenes have everted.” Bashfully, he averts his gaze elsewhere, as if he had been caught seeing something he shouldn’t have. (Which is laughable considering the fact that the both of you were just writhing on the ground, tangled up in each other.)

In your haze, you hadn’t even noticed your cocks evert. Neuvillette’s are still somewhat concealed within, only the drooling tips peeking out of his entrance. 

“Yours haven’t yet, that won’t do. How else are we supposed to help you understand your new anatomy?” you shake your head, a faux forlorn tone decorating your words. “Would you allow me to penetrate you, Neuvillette?”

He nods at your suggestion and you line up one of your tips at his opening. Aided by the copious amount of slick fluid, you’re able to slowly enter him, sandwiching one of his dicks between the one you have in him and the one rubbing against his exposed head.

The new sensation has him throwing his head back, drawing out a loud throaty groan.

“D-Don’t stop, please, beloved.”

Spurred on by how wrecked he sounds, when you’ve made sure he’s comfortable, you start to rock in and out of him, shallow unhurried motions to start then transitioning to a faster pace once he starts to meet your thrusts. Slowly but surely, as Neuvillette gets increasingly worked up, his hemipenes gradually evert until they’re fully revealed.

They’re slender, each with a pale white bulbous base that then curves and morphs into a tip that’s more flared on the bottom edge, like a blunt fishing hook.

“There we go, how are you feeling, still fine?”

“Yes, but allow me to catch my breath first before we continue. Thank you for checking with me, beloved.”

When he’s ready, he experiments and frots his cocks against yours, hissing at the heat and friction as they drag along your lengths. The slick sounds do nothing to quell the rising desire within you and you can feel yourself reaching your peak.

The dragon under you is faring no better as well, judging by how wound up he’s getting. His tail is flicking wildly to and fro in the water, churning up the sand as a desperate mix of growls, chirrups, and pitched calls leave him. Despite it all, he’s still the most gorgeous sight you’ve ever had the opportunity to witness.

“You’re nothing but beautiful, Neuvillette. Ah! I’ve grown to see the overflowing compassion you have within you,” he keens at your words and you can sense the pleasure he’s feeling melding with yours.

“How fortunate I must be to stay at your side, to call you mine, as I, yours.” And this is what does him in.

As he spills over, his tail goes to loop around yours tightly whilst his muscles lock and shake. You follow suit not long after, a sticky mess forming between the two of your bodies

A quick splash around in the water washes most of the evidence off. You rest next to where he’s curled up comfortably, the waves rhythmically lapping up against him. The atmosphere is relaxed as the both of you wind down and converse.

“I’d love to stay with you till the late morning but you have a trial scheduled and I promised to find Pahsiv first thing in the morning to catch up,” you lament.

A rumble from his chest, he’s chuckling. He tucks his head next to yours, caressing a tendril across your cheek.

“I’ll wait for you. Return safe, my beloved one.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[yelenas-eyeliner]

change (pt. 2)

john walker/f!reader

one small mission for val changes the course of your life, and your relationship with john

cw THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, injuries, mentions of trauma, shame rooms, death/murder, and mental health but also FLUFF!! I PROMISE!! | wc 4.7k

so as i promised i have returned! i meant to post this at a reasonable time and not 3:30am but here we are. if you know me on ao3 you know this is supposed to be four parts and the next part is lowkey just smut ngl. but anyway! please enjoy. i love you and i love wyatt russell defenders :)

The aching new bruise on your shoulder and the constant sound of desert bugs in your ears were the only concrete pieces of evidence that you had to substantiate that what you were experiencing was real, and not some messed up dream that you had after getting knocked out cold during a job. 

It was one thing to be assigned to do a job by yourself - in fact, it was something that you did often. It was true that Val would assign you to work with one other person, and that said person was always the same. But a lot of the time, you were working on something relatively simple, by yourself. But to be assigned a job, and run into the person who you often collaborated with, only to find out that you had both been there separately under the expectation that you would take part in a group slaughtering event was something that you weren’t sure you could wrap your head around even now, about two hours after it had happened. 

As far as you were concerned, there was an individual who had phasing abilities who you were sent after. You were informed that another agent was also looking for this individual, but that it was imperative that you were sent separately. You had arrived shortly after Taskmaster had, only to find that John was also there - and that he was sent to kill the other agent who was sent to kill Ghost, who you were sent to kill. Ghost killed Taskmaster, some guy named Bob showed up, got shot, and flew into the sky, and made your stolen Humvee crash off of the side of a cliff, and now here you were. 

There was a bit more to it, of course. But you didn’t want to think about some of the more painful aspects of the entire thing. The prospect of being burned alive by the person who employed you certainly wasn’t a pleasant thing to think about, and then there were the personal things that bothered you about everything. John, who you thought had been making at least some sort of decent progress toward moving past the people and situations that haunted him, had begun and was now perpetuating the lie that he was going to go home from this to a loving wife and child. But you knew that wasn’t the truth, and you had hoped that he had at least made some sort of progress toward moving on from that. 

Granted, you knew as well that he was still having trouble processing it simply because he knew it was his fault - or, you figured that he knew it was his fault at this point. He seemed to blame himself, and you knew that he needed to because it was something that he caused. But, he couldn’t seem to blame himself for long enough to move past it. It felt wrong judging his coping mechanisms, but lying and hoping that you would just go along with it was something that irritated you to your core.

There was more selfish reasons behind you not liking it, too. You hated hearing about it, about the fake life that he was making everyone think that he lived. It made your closeness look strange, it made you look like a worse person than you knew that you already are. You knew he wasn’t married, so when you checked in on him and let him put his hands on your face to look at your bruised cheek and cut up lip, you knew that you weren’t doing anything wrong - hell, you weren’t even doing anything inherently romantic since you hadn’t put a label on anything you two got up to. But, to the others, it looked like you were strangely close with a married man, and it was obvious that you looked at him in a way that would be inappropriate if he was married. 

But John didn’t know about your feelings toward him, as far as you were aware. So how could you possibly blame him for not being considerate about something that you hadn’t even bothered to tell him about? You figured that you couldn’t, so you tried your best to keep yourself from taking it out on him. Especially since you really needed to conserve that energy, considering the fact that stopping was something that you had no ability to do at this point. You all needed to get out of this desert. Val was destined to find you at some point, and you couldn’t stop moving even for a second if you wanted to prevent that. 

“You still good?” 

Your eyes moved from the ground to the man beside you, taking note of the small distance between the two of you and the two women that you were traveling with. 

“I’m fine.” You responded, though you were missing your bed and wished that you were anywhere but here, you were fine. Physically, you were going to make it through this, even if you weren’t going to have the best time trying to do so. “Are you good?” 

There were a few questions in what you were asking him. You were curious about his physical form, obviously, but he was a super soldier and could take a punch – and massive fall – a lot better than most people could. But you knew that he was going through something. Whatever happened to him after he touched Bob’s hand had clearly rattled him, you’d seen the way that his feet were inching towards the edge, and you knew that if he fell, something would kill him. If it wasn’t the fall, it would be the fact that there was no reliable way for anyone to get him out of there. It looked like he wanted to die, and that was enough to deeply concern you. 

“I’ll be fine.” Was his response, and though you weren’t sure if you exactly believed him, you highly doubted that he had any interest in elaborating on his feelings in front of two other people. 

With a sigh, you let your hand reach out toward him. His fingers within your own sent a bit of relief through you, though you hated that a little bit. You hated that it relieved you to touch him, that it made everything seem just a little bit more okay when you had him close. But you also liked that he was someone who you could turn to when you needed it – even though he was also the only person who you could turn to when you needed it. 

That was the thing about the deathtrap, though. Every single one of you were, in some capacity, sort of bad people. You killed people, you did bad things from time to time, and you were all quite miserable and rather lonely. Each and every person you had spoken to for more than a second seemed to have the same rather empty look behind their eyes. Each of you wanted some sort of clean slate, as promised by Valentina when the clean slate was really just killing you all. But none of you got what you were promised, because you were never supposed to even survive. 

You had John, but you had nobody else. When you went home from a job, you went home to a few dead plants and ended up hanging out with him an hour later anyway. You practically lived together at this point, though neither of you were willing to admit to each other that you had gotten that close. You weren’t sure when the physical affection stopped being something that you only showed to each other in the confines of an after-mission ritual, and started being something that you showed to each other on a day-to-day basis. Holding hands wasn’t knew, hugging, holding each other – they were all things that you were used to, at this point. 

Even so, you still had this emptiness in you. You wanted something more, and you weren’t sure that you could ever have it. You would never tell John how you felt about him, not until you had any sort of confirmation or idea that he was ready to move past his divorce. You had yet to receive that confirmation, so telling him was something that remained off the table. Even so, he was the only person you really had who you trusted, the only person who you ever confided in. He was the only person who was really in your life, and you found yourself simply grateful that you had someone to turn to when things got rough. 

“How did you two meet?” Yelena asked, finally allowing you to take note that the two of you had caught up to the others at some point. “You seem close.” 

“Work.” You responded, simply. It was the truth, you met him through work. You wanted to say more, you wanted to elaborate on the fact that you don’t hold hands with married men all the time, but you didn’t want to embarrass him. As far as she and Ava were concerned, he was a married man, and you didn’t want to be the one to end his facade, even if it deeply, deeply annoyed your mind to think about it. “We usually work together.” 

“You assigned jobs with other people?” Yelena asked, her eyebrows furrowing. You wondered how long she had been working for Val, how many jobs she had to do by herself. You often disliked doing jobs alone because it felt isolating, because one of the few people who you trusted and seemed to trust you was John.

“Only him.” 

John nodded in agreement, signifying that he also hadn’t been assigned another work partner. But that was really where the conversation ended, despite your remaining closeness with the man beside you. Your fingers remained intertwined with his, even when you got tired – more so, especially when you got tired. It made you more comfortable to remember that he was there with you, that your close friend was going through the exact same thing that you were.

Though, as you continued your expedition throughout the desert, you couldn’t help but wonder why Val had even thought it would be a good job to put the two of you on the same mission. Did she have no other way to kill you without leaving a trace? She knew that the two of you worked well together, which led you to wonder if she simply had such little faith in him that she believed he would’ve been dead before you even showed up. Or, maybe she had little faith in the rest of the people she assigned to do this, believing that you two working together wouldn’t mean that either of you escaped being burned alive. Just the thought of the fate that you escaped had you shaking your head, but you pushed those thoughts away. It would be a long night if any of you lingered on the events of it in your minds, and it was bad enough that it would be a horrid night regardless. 

At the very least, you were reminded that it got quite cold in the desert late at night halfway through it. It felt like a reprieve from the scorching heat that had been lingering from early on in the night. But as the sun started to rise after hours of walking, you knew that you were going to have to start going faster. Val had eyes everywhere, and while you could disappear into a populated area without detection, the four of you were sticking out like four insanely-sized thumbs in the empty desert with no other people in it for miles. 

At least, you thought there were no other people in it. 

The sound of a car that seemed to be coming right to you had you all ducking for cover, but it became increasingly clear (from the man who emerged from the car and what he was yelling about) that this man was someone who knew Yelena; that he wasn’t a threat even though she seemed horribly embarrassed by his antics. 

By the time that you were actually in the car, everything else begun to feel like a blur. One moment you were listening to what sounded like a both deeply personal and deeply unserious conversation that was happening in the front seat, and the next moment you were being shot at, seemingly being saved by Bucky, and then ultimately also being shot at by Bucky. 

It wasn’t until you were cuffed and sitting beside John that you actually had a moment to process what was happening. A currently sitting Congressman was threatening you to testify, a Congressman who you – if you weren’t mistaken – had met before. It wasn’t until he spoke up about John’s little lie that you finally made eye contact with him. You had met him before, briefly. They weren’t friends, but him and John had kept in contact. Bucky checked in very briefly after he found out that Olivia left, and you… well, you were honestly relieved that the others knew.

A part of that relief was selfish. You were glad that people didn’t think that you were somewhat flirting with your friend who you, theoretically, would know was in a relationship if he still was. But you were also relieved for reasons that benefited John. For a good long while, you’ve been the only real friend that he’s had, just like he’s been the only real friend that you’ve had. Pushing people away was what made his relationship end in the first place, and lying to the people he’s just met because he’s ashamed of his past isn’t ever going to help him recover from it. 

As much as you wanted to unpack that with him, to make sure that he was doing okay even though everyone now knew the truth about him and his former marriage, there was no real time for that. Bob was still out there, and apparently he was being manipulated and used by Val. The Sentry Project, whatever Val wanted out of it, it was clearly the reason for Bob being able to survive being shot at well-over a hundred times and then quite literally fly away, even if he came crashing back down just moments later. 

He was a good person, but he was a deeply wounded person who was now being manipulated by the same person who had manipulated everyone in this room in one way or another. Everyone except for Bucky, who had seemingly been privy to her misdeeds for far longer than the rest of you had. You all knew that you needed to do something, Bob needed help, and for once in your lives, you all needed to do something that mattered for someone else. 

It was unfamiliar. Unfamiliar to all of you. But you knew it was the right thing, for Bob and for whoever Val might use him and her manipulation of him to hurt. 

The journey to Manhattan in the back of the truck felt lighter than the prior journey, because you all knew what your purpose was here. There was no apprehension about doing the right thing and helping Bob, there was no underlying motivation to get as far away from all of the new people you had just met as quickly as possible because that was what you were simply used to doing. And there was no need for you to shy away from how close you sat to John, even though that last part raised a lot of questions in your mind that you didn’t feel like you had enough time to answer. 

Of course, you knew that you had feelings for him, and you knew that these feelings for him had started long before this one particular day when everything seemed to be shaking up in your life. But you also didn’t know how to deal with that before other than just not acting on it. John hadn’t chosen to be forthright about his divorce, but he didn’t shy away from it or talk back when Bucky said something. There was an acceptance on his face, a defeated expression. He seemed not welcoming to the fact that he was divorced, but no longer surprised by it, either. 

Through and through, your promise to yourself had been for him to be the first one to make a move because he was the one that was struggling emotionally and he was the one that needed to decide when the time was right. But you also knew that you acted like a couple a lot of the time. You shared beds, and held hands, and spent almost all of your time with each other even when you weren’t working. But when you were working, it shifted that bond. Because when you were doing dangerous jobs, you needed to remind yourselves that you trusted each other with your lives. 

That reminder, that trust, was something that you didn’t realize you were going to need until you did. 

Rescuing Bob was one thing, knowing that Val could be a master manipulator was another. But you weren’t fully prepared for what you saw. In what little time she had to mold him, to make him into a puppet and feed into the issues that he struggled with in his mind, but fighting him was something entirely different. It felt like they’d all failed when they walked away, utterly defeated. Val had somehow won, and she had been able to take the person they were all there to save with her. She felt wrong about it as she followed the rest of the team down the elevator, because she knew firsthand – like they all did – that Val would disregard him and try to get him killed the moment she decided that she didn’t need him anymore, or the moment she decided that he was some kind of a liability to her political career and the power that she had been able to obtain from it. 

Everything happened so quickly, one moment Yelena was insulting everyone and running off – only to be followed by Alexei. Meanwhile, the rest of you lingered. Nobody really said anything, nobody knew what to say. You hated what she had said to John, but you also knew that she didn’t mean it, because she was hurt. Because for once, you had all tried to do something meaningful and important and she failed, you failed, every single one of you had failed. Because you weren’t superheroes, and only one of you had any real superpower, and what could you even do? 

Hope and pray that one of Bucky’s super-powered friends would come and save the day? It didn’t feel like there was any real option here, and you were almost ready to start walking home in defeat, counting your lucky stars that you had at least evaded being burned alive, a mile deep into the ground just so one woman can cover her tracks. But things were never that simple, and before you could even think of proposing the idea of leaving to anyone, a helicopter came crashing down from the sky. Bob. It was his silhouette, but he was entirely consumed by darkness. His eyes seemed to be glowing, but the rest of him was a black shadow. 

The thoughts looming in the forefront of your mind took the backburner as you ran off to help someone who was about to be hit by the weight of debris, grabbing the young woman who was barely aware of the piece of an engine coming straight for her until she was out of it’s path. Everything seemed utterly chaotic, people running and not knowing where they could go or what they could do. You felt like you were acting on instinct as you joined the others, helping to keep the piece of concrete from falling until it toppled over to the other side. And just as quickly as you all came to realize that you’d stopped a crisis, another one began. 

From up above, Bob – or, rather, The Sentry in this form – was turning the people on the ground into shadow’s by the moment, and the only thing that any of you could do was get people out of his path. At least, it was the only thing that most of you thought to do, most of you except for Yelena. Yelena walked face-first into it. 

As much as you wanted to imagine that she was insane, that she was doing something utterly insane and choosing to die for reasons that you couldn’t quite grasp, you knew that wasn’t the case. You had known from the very beginning that John had seen something when he touched Bob’s hand, but you weren’t quite sure what it was. It seemed to be your only hope that, in some twist of fate, if you walked into the darkness you would be able to do something to stop this, something to bring him out of this form that he was in. 

Stepping out from the small roof that kept you safe, you turned to face John. Your closest friend, the one person who you seemed to care about more than anyone else – the only person who you figured really cared about you, at this point. His hand stretched out to yours, and you took it. Your fingers wrapped around his as you made the decision to do the only thing that you had any hope could fix this. From what he said, this wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience, but if it was the only way, you would just have to endure it. 

The moment you stepped into the shadows, you found your hand empty. No John beside you, nothing except for a familiar sound, a memory. 

Turning your head, your felt your breath hitch in your throat at the sight of the person in front of you. Your best friend. The person who you had met in middle school, and went to college with. The person who was there for you when you went through anything good and anything bad. Until this day. You wanted to reach out, to stop the younger version of you from pulling the gun from her bag, but you couldn’t stop what was happening. 

It was the first time you’d ever killed anyone, the worst day of your life. An assignment. Of course, your close friend had to be someone who was working against the agency you were working for – the agency you would later come to know was headed by Val – and she just happened to be your first real assignment, the first real test to see if you were capable of doing this job. 

Room after room seemingly just became more and more traumatic, but in the end, you found yourself being smacked in the face by a flying blanket. It wasn’t your blanket, though. You were in an attic, but it wasn’t your attic, and you were no longer going through rooms of your past traumas by yourself, reliving every single moment that you had wished you were able to forget. 

There was no real time to focus on that, though. You were all quickly entering another room, and just as quickly being pinned against a wall to stop you from fighting back against the dark version of Bob that seemed to be taking his physical form hostage – his Void. The darkness in his mind that threatened to consume him whole. 

Fighting it almost seemed like the correct, natural, response for a moment. But it became clear to you, as Bob himself became consumed more and more each passing moment by the darkness, that he couldn’t do it this way. Fighting himself, allowing himself to hate his own mind and feed into the darkness, it was what it wanted. One by one, you were able to break free and help him. To remind him that he didn’t have to do this alone, that you were all here to free him from what he was being subjected to. And when it worked, when you found yourselves back in the streets of New York, the darkness that had begun consuming the city was beginning to fade away. 

But there was Val, shameless as ever and seemingly pulling you all into another one of her traps as she walked past the curtain. You were inundated with lights, cameras, and reporters as you crossed the threshold of the white curtain that you had walked through. Your eyebrows knitted together as you listened to her, as you pieced together what was happening. You knew that this mean that Bucky wouldn’t get to testify against her, that in the end she got what she wanted and was now entirely unimpeachable. But, it also meant that you had power. You had power over her, and you didn’t have to worry about her subjecting any of you to missions that you weren’t comfortable with. 

Once you were able to leave the impromptu press conference, you found yourself ushered into a black SUV with John, your eyes darting away from the floor as you felt his hand on your cheek. “You got a pretty bad bruise, you know.” 

You brought your hand up to where he was touching, right below your eye. You honestly weren’t sure when, in the heat of the moment, you had gotten bruised. 

“You’re pretty cut up yourself.” You responded, though your voice was softer than you intended it to be. You really didn’t know what this meant for you. You knew that you liked the feeling of his hand on your cheek, though. And you also knew that you really didn’t want to have any sort of discussion about what it meant to be a New Avenger until after you got to sleep a little bit. 

John was seemingly debating something in his mind for a good couple of minutes before he cleared his throat, a small smile covering his lips. “Would it be too forward of me to kiss you?” 

For a moment, you were certain that you must’ve gotten hit too hard in the head at some point, but this was very much real, and he was very much asking for permission to kiss you. And every apprehension that you ever had be damned – if he was asking, then you were ready for it. “Not too forward at all.” 

With the permission he needed, he leaned forward and captured your lips within his. It was soft, delicate, careful not to hurt the small cut that you had sustained on your bottom lip at some point. But you let your hand press on his face as well, keeping him there and running your thumb over his skin. Regardless of what all of these new developments and new changes meant, you were happy. Happy to feel in control of your own life, happy to be able to kiss the one person who you seemingly could never stop thinking about kissing. 

There were a lot of things that you would need to discuss later, but for now, you were happy to sit comfortably in the backseat of this car, gently almost-making out with your best friend. Though, you would be remiss if you didn’t get one little honest opinion in there.

“John?” 

“Hmm?” He seemed almost dazed as he unwillingly pulled slightly away from you, a smile covering your lips as he tried to chase the kiss. 

“Since you were asking about it earlier, I kinda hate your hat.” 

He seemed stunned for a moment, almost offended even though there was a smile fighting it’s way onto his face. “No…”

“It’s not flattering, people deserve to see your pretty face.” You nodded, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You can still have a hat, just like… a better one.” 

He didn’t stop himself from smiling now, even as he shook his head in faux-disbelief that you would dare say something bad about the helmet that he had been wearing. But you didn’t let him respond as you kissed him again, letting his hand rest on the back of your neck as he held you close. For the first time in a while, you felt genuinely happy – and strangely beyond glad for all of the change and near-death-experiences that you had been forced to live through if this was to be the end result of it all.

[pombeom]

deal? | beomgyu fic (nsfw)

nsfw content below! mdni!

this is my first ever smut fic so please don’t judge and let me know if there’s anything that needs improving! i’ve only ever written fluff before so i definitely need some practice but i hope you still to enjoy it!

warnings: dom!gyu x switch?reader, smut, fingering, blowjob, handjob, living room sex, best friends to lovers, teasing, nipple play?, dirty talk?, unprotected sex (DON’T), fluffy ending, (am i forgetting something?)

The spitting of the rain echoed through your apartment. Despite the weather this week consisting of warm, luscious sun, today the skies had different plans for both you and your best friend Beomgyu. You had planned on taking a trip to the beach and invited him over to join you on your endeavours to which Beomgyu was very much happy to tag along. The sudden shift in the weather, however, obstructed your journey and as a result you’re both sitting on the couch of your apartment scrolling through Netflix picking something to watch.

“How have you never watched Gossip Girl! Are you even from this planet?”  

“Just because I have different tastes doesn’t mean I’m an alien,” Beomgyu shrugged, rolling his eyes.  

“No but seriously. You’re missing out big time Beom.”  

“Alright if you say so…If you really love it that much why don’t you put it on?”

“Seriously?? You’re letting me put in a show that I wanna watch…with no form of bribery?”  

“Well I didn’t say that did I. Everything comes with a price angel.” 

“What is it this time?” 

“Be patient. You’ll find out soon enough,” his smirk was enough to tell you that he had something planned. Something so devious that it might end up with you staying home all week from embarrassment. Your mind flashed back to the time he made you flash your tits at one of your elderly neighbours and you could do nothing but just feel the burn on your face and hear his laugh from behind you. The relationship between you and your neighbour was never the same again even after the cookies you baked her as an apology gift. Obviously, you didn’t want to trust him again this time. 

“Just promise me that it won’t involve my poor old neighbour again. I don’t think she could handle seeing my tits again,” you whined hoping that he’d pity you for last time’s ordeal.

“I promise angel. This time it’d be only you and me.” 

And for some reason, you had a feeling that this time wouldn’t be any better than the last. In fact it’d probably be worst… 

You shoved your doubts to the back of your mind and pressed play on the remote, starting Episode 1 of Gossip Girl as agreed upon by the both of you. 

As the episode progressed, you felt Beomgyu shift closer to you. Whilst it was normal for him to be clingy, the aura in the atmosphere was tenser than usual. Even though his eyes were glued on the screen observing the drama unfolding, you could sense that his mind was elsewhere. Every so often you felt a stare lasering the side of your face and your cheeks burnt up as a physical reaction of your nervousness. You felt a sharp tingle land on your bare thigh and instantly you regretted wearing your itty bitty surfer shorts. Soon enough Beomgyu’s entire hand was squeezing your thighs, kneeling them between his slim, long fingers. Your mind ran through thoughts which were criminally outrageous for your liking but you couldn’t help but wonder how his fingers would feel in between your legs, collecting the pool of slick that had now formed. 

And slowly but surely, his hands crept up closer and closer to your heat, barely scratching the fabric of your shorts and with the sudden contact, you let out a suppressed whimper. You finally turn your head to see Beomgyu smirking at your reaction, pride glimmering in his eyes. He continued to press against your pussy from outside your shorts gaining more sounds from you and subconsciously your hips started grinding against his palm. 

“Are you that desperate angel?”

“Beom, please,” you mumble.

“Please, what? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you” 

“Please strip me and put those damn fingers in-“ 

Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt your shorts and underwear being ripped off and your pussy trembles in the contact of the cold surrounding air. He rubs your entrance gathering the slick and circles your clit sending sharp shivers up your spine. He picks up the pace and suddenly launches two fingers into your hole, pumping it in and it at the same speed. 

“Beom, pl- please go fast… faster” 

“Aww look at my angel stuttering. Are my fingers really doing that much to you?” 

He quickens his pace going at an absurdly high rate making your collapse under his control. You were a moaning mess and your every cry was music to his ears. Your pussy clenches around his fingers and just as you were about to cum, he removes his fingers crashing you down from your almost high making you cry from pain and the urge for release. 

“You’ll get your chance angel. But now I want you to please me. You think you can do that baby?” 

You nod your head and slip onto the floor of the living room, positioning yourself in between Beomgyu’s legs which were spread wide open. You put down his joggers with his underwear, revealing his thick, hard cock which stand erect. He holds up his hoodie so you can grab onto his dick and you start by rubbing the base of his shaft, slowly making your way up to the pink tip. You bring your mouth closer to his cock and tease it by swirling your tongue around it. Beomgyu, being impatient, grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoves his cock into your throat taking you by surprise. 

“I told you to please me, not tease me angel. Now suck.” 

You follow his order and hollow your mouth feeling his fat cock deep in your throat.  He takes control and fucks your mouth by rapidly pumping his suck into your mouth at a monstrous pace causing a pool of tears to well up in your eyes. 

“You’re taking me so well angel. Can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.” 

Your moans mixed with his grunts and whines echo through the room, replacing the sound of the rain and the TV. You feel his cock twitch and he pulls out taking away his own orgasm. You knew what was coming next and you were ready in every way. He picks you up from the ground and bends your over the arm of the sofa and positions himself behind you. He slaps his dick against your heat causing you to hitch your breath. Beomgyu places the tip in your slit and slams into your core, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. He continued to pound your pussy, not letting you adjust to his girthy size. 

“Beom, it- it’s too big! Slow…slow down!” your words came out slewed. 

“You can take it angel. Take my fat cock in your pretty pussy.”  

He abused your hole repeatedly as his hand clenched around your waist whilst the other made its way under your baggy t-shirt and straight to your naked tits. You knew you should have worn a bra before he arrived. 

He pinched your nipples sending shock waves straight to your brain, numbing every sense in your body apart from his touch, heightening every feeling he causes. Your pussy clenches again around his dick which only encourages him to move even faster.

“You’re clenching so hard right now angel. I think I’m gonna cum.” 

“Ahh!” You screamed pleasure overflowing in your body. “I’m gonna cum too Beom.” 

“Cum with me then angel. On the count of three.” 

“3, 2, —“

Before he could get to 1, both of you crash as Beomgyu rides you through your post-orgasmic release. Your body is shaking under his, while he holds you from collapsing into the wooden floor. 

“Beom- Beomgyu, that was so good.” 

“Yeah? Well you were great angel. Your pussy was made for my dick.” 

Your face turns red upon hearing his dirty compliment but your couldn’t help but agree at how well he fit in you. 

“I have something to tell you,” Beomgyu begins. 

“Go on,” you say now slouching back on the sofa whilst he wraps his arms around you. 

“I’ve liked you for a really long time now and there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think of holding you like this. So as a part of our deal, am I allowed to ask you if you would let me be your boyfriend?” 

Your eyes widen at his confession and although you expected it after your little escapade together just moments ago, you felt a sense of shock but you were also pleasantly surprised. 

“Beom, you know that you’re my bestest friend in the world. And if I’m being honest, I’ve never thought of you as more than that,” you pause, gaging his reaction. He’s still maintaining eye contact but the hope in his eyes have disappeared which you chuckle at finding it amusing. 

“I’ve never thought of you as more than a friend. But ever since the moment you stepped in my apartment today, something felt different between us. I couldn’t quite place my finger on it until now but it’s taken me this long to realise the way I really feel about you. I also like you Choi Beomgyu and not just because you’ve given me the best fuck of my life but also because you light up my world. You’re so stupid sometimes because who would ever think of flashing an old lady like that but that’s what I love the most about you. So to answer your question, I would be honoured to have you as my boyfriend, only if you’d let me be your girlfriend.” 

His response came in the form of plunging into your lips, exchanging years worth of feelings and passion. 

He pushes his tongue in and before you have time to react, he picks you up bridal style and carries you over to your bedroom. 

“Beom, what are you doing?” You ask pulling away from the kiss.

“You up for round 2, angel?” 

[rottenpumpkin13]

Yo pumpkin pie, quick question: What was the Worst New Years Eve party on the SOLDIER floor?

( @izunias-meme-hole )

New Years Eve(ryone is insane)

• Shinra's annual New Year's Eve party is in full swing. Angeal and Sephiroth are sitting at a table, watching a group of Third Class SOLDIERs dive under the table and start eating their 12 grapes.

Angeal: People take their New Year's traditions so seriously. It's not like any of it actually changes anything. Progress is about the work you put in, not resolutions.

Sephiroth: Actually, I disagree. This year, I've decided to make a resolution and stick to it, starting tonight.

Angeal: Oh? What is it?

*Sephiroth grabs the plate in front of him, throws it frisbee-style across the room, and hits Kunsel in the back of the head*

Angeal: !

Sephiroth: That was part of it. Don't worry, it'll all make sense in the end.

Angeal: What does that mean??

Sephiroth: Oh, I can't say. I heard that if you state your resolution, it loses its power.

*A hand shoots out from under the table and grabs Angeal's leg. Angeal screams*

Genesis: Pass me the grape platter on the table.

Angeal: WHAT ARE YOU DOING??

Genesis, chewing: Eating grapes under the table for good luck.

*They lift the tablecloth. Genesis is under there with thousands of grapes like a doomsday hoarder*

Sephiroth: How many grapes do you have?

Genesis: One for each hour of the year, obviously. Why stop at one for every month when I can maximize my good luck?

Sephiroth: May I have a grape?

Genesis: Perish.

Sephiroth:

*Zack walks up to the table*

Zack: This New Year's Eve sucks. I can't find anyone to kiss me at midnight. Everyone's already paired up!

Sephiroth: Don't look at me. Affection goes directly against my New Year's resolution.

Angeal: That sentence makes me feel unsafe.

*Sephiroth stands up, walks over to Tseng and Rufus' table, pours a glass of champagne onto Tseng's plate, and walks back*

Genesis: You just made Tseng have a panic attack.

Sephiroth: It'll all make sense in the end.

*Sephiroth walks away*

Angeal: He's going to kill someone. I'd better follow him.

*Angeal gets up and chases after Sephiroth. Lazard walks by, dressed head-to-toe in a designer white suit*

Genesis: Director, you look fantastic.

Lazard: Thank you, Genesis. It's good luck to wear white on New Year's Eve, which is why I've gone all out.

*Genesis accidentally sneezes and the grapes he'd been eating sprays all over Lazard's suit*

Lazard: …

Zack: Director, will you make out with me at midnight?

Lazard: …

• Angeal and Sephiroth are walking around the party. They stop by the refreshments table, where Sephiroth takes a slice of cake and smashes it into a decorative ice sculpture. Angeal is terrified.

Angeal: Seph, please just tell me what your resolution is. I won't judge!

Sephiroth: For the last time, no. Your lack of faith in me is concerning.

Angeal: Your current behavior is concerning.

Sephiroth: It'll all make sense in the end.

*Cissnei walks by, Sephiroth stops her*

Cissnei: Hey guys!

Sephiroth: Angeal's charisma and charm are strictly limited to platonic friendships, which explains why he's perpetually awkward around women, and why he's still single and lonely.

Angeal: WHAT?

Cissnei: Uh, I—I just remembered I have to check on something. Nice seeing you!

*Cissnei quickly retreats as Angeal turns to Sephiroth*

Sephiroth: It'll all make sense in the end

Angeal: NO IT WON'T.

• Zack hit the peak of desperation and is now trying to flirt with Kunsel.

Zack: Come on, man. Midnight's almost here. Just one little kiss?

Kunsel: Sorry, buddy. I already promised to kiss someone else.

Zack: Who? Who could possibly top me as a kisser? Does all our years of friendship mean nothing to you? After everything we've been through together? People dream of kissing me! I'm practically SOLDIER's most eligible bachelor!

Kunsel: SOLDIER's most eligible bachelor just begged me for a pity kiss.

Zack: That's not pity! That's loyalty! And apparently, you don't have any! Now who could you possibly want to kiss over me!

*Darkstar comes padding over and licks Kunsel's hand*

Zack, sobbing: I HOPE YOU TWO WILL BE VERY HAPPY TOGETHER.

• While Angeal is busy wrestling an entire turkey from Sephiroth, who wants to throw it at Professor Hojo, Zack slumps back to the table, defeated. He starts venting to Genesis.

Zack: Maybe I should just give up. I'm never getting kissed at midnight.

*Genesis starts choking on a grape*

Genesis: !!!

Zack: I can't believe I have to sit here, alone, as the clock strikes twelve, watching all these people get their good luck kisses. It's so unfair.

Genesis, stil choking: !!!

Zack: Wait, you know what? That's a quitter's mentality, and I'm not a quitter!

Genesis, turning blue: !!!!

Zack: I'm gonna get back out there and try to find my midnight kiss.

Genesis, on the brink of death: ! ! ! ! !

Zack: Thanks, Genesis! You're a great listener.

*Zack pats him on the back, the grape flies out*

Genesis, completely fine: ….

• Zack goes back out to the party to try to find someone to kiss at midnight. Meanwhile, Angeal and Sephiroth return to the table. Genesis is still force-feeding himself grapes.

Angeal: Man, you're going to make yourself sick.

Genesis: Perhaps, but at least I'm not as bad as Zack, who's darting about like a lovesick puppy, chasing the faintest flicker of a midnight flame.

*Zack runs by, chasing Reno*

Zack: JUST KISS ME!

Reno: HELP!

*Lazard approaches, his designer suit is crisp and white again*

Sephiroth: Director, you've outdone yourself.

Angeal: You've never looked better.

*Genesis sneezes grape all over Lazard's suit*

Lazard: WHAT THE F—

• Everyone starts counting down. Zack is pacing nervously while the others gather around the table.

Zack: Now or never! One of you have to kiss me.

Angeal: I honestly wouldn't mind if you were anyone else. But considering that I'm your mentor, it'd be too weird.

Zack: What about you, Genesis?

*Genesis, sick from eating too many grapes, is slumped against the table*

Genesis: Ugh…

*Sephiroth grabs the decorative flower vase in the middle of the table, pours out the water, takes the flowers, and bites the arrangement*

Angeal: STOP THAT AND TELL ME YOUR RESOLUTION.

Sephiroth: Midnight's coming. Patience.

Zack: SOMEONE KISS ME ALREADY! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!

*Cloud suddenly appears out of nowhere, kisses Zack, and vanishes just as quickly*

Zack: ! <3 ? <3 ! <3 ?

*The whole party cheers and welcomes the new year*

Angeal: Sephiroth, for the love of Gaia, just tell me what your resolution is! Whatever it is, I won't judge you. You're my friend. I'll support you in whatever you wish to pursue. I'll even support you if it's something challenging. But please, trust me with your resolution.

Sephiroth: Oh, there is no resolution. I was just messing with you.

Angeal: SON OF A FUCKING BIRJWOJPOEIXBDFQSBDHWWD AWEDFGYHNKOJNBGV TGYHUJIDEMKHBGFTC G7YHUJIMKL

Sephiroth: I don't know what language that is, but don't insult my mother in it.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part six

authors note: i'm very sorry in advance for how this ends, it was just getting wayyyy too long, and there was no good place to slice it in half, so i cut it before shit unfolds, so yes please don't hate me!!!

pairing: roman reigns x black!reader

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive dialogue, angst

song inspo: ‘with me’ by destiny’s child

words: 6.5k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“Whoa.”

Mariah’s reaction is expected. Your living room, specifically the sofa, is occupied by several of Callie’s dolls. A tea party that you were so kindly invited to attend this morning. 

“Girl, you should see her playroom. Pretty soon the floor is going to be non-visible.” 

A small part of you regrets not trying to straighten up before Mariah came over, but this is also your literal best friend. You know she’s seen more than almost anyone else in your life, and she would never judge you, let alone over the state of your apartment when she has a child of her own. 

Mariah looks over at you with a raised brow. “He did all this?” You nod. “Why?”

“Because she’s his little girl and of course he’s going to spoil her. A quote.” You chuckle as you and Mariah decide to just sit at the kitchen island. It’s probably best to leave the dolls untouched as Callie’s likely to wake up from her nap wanting to play again. 

Mariah gives you a look. “You don’t find that weird?”

Confused, you ask, “what?”

Mariah shrugs and circles the top of her water bottle with her index finger. “I don’t know. He just found out about her, and now he’s buying her stuff? Seems like he’s trying to buy her love.”

“You don’t know Joe.” It’s an easy dismissal, because you do know him and know that’s the last thing on his mind. “That’s not him at all. He just wants to see her happy.”

Mariah looks unfazed and stands ten toes down, adding on, “then he should be here full time instead of randomly popping in.” You just look at her, slightly confused where this is coming from. “I mean, I’m happy she’s getting to know him, but this is all so messy, you know? He’s married. He has a wife, and he’s coming here seeing his secret child with his secret mistress.”

You can only look at her, stunned by her words, even if a small part of you knows there’s some element of truth. Joe swiftly dodged the only question you’ve asked about how and when he’s going to tell his wife about Callie. It was a valid question that deserved an answer.  But the things Mariah is saying, you can’t tell if it angers you because it’s not true or hurts you because it is. 

She seems to detect your conflicted emotions and reaches over with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be negative. I just remember how hard it was for you when you and Joe broke up the first time. I hated seeing you so hurt.”

“We’re not together, Mariah. We’re coparenting.” You hate how soft your voice is, giving away that her words now have your head spinning. 

“So you honestly mean to tell me that you have no feelings for him? None whatsoever.” You can’t give her an answer, or either refuse to. It’s another valid question but the answer isn’t as simple for you to express. You know you feel something for Joe, but that could just be because of the fact that you two share a child together. There has to be some type of emotional connection between any two people who create life. “Exactly. Just be careful. He broke your heart once before. Don’t let him do it again.”

Your feelings are so mixed, agreeing with certain aspects of what’s being said and disagreeing with others. Mariah has triggered some big thoughts, ones that you probably should sort through at some point. You’re just not eager for right now to be that moment.

“Enough about me, what’s been going on with you?”

You pray she knows you well enough to know that you’re desperate to change the subject. “What do you mean?”

“I feel like we haven’t spoken much lately, and I know that’s partially on me. It’s just been a lot on my end, I’m sorry.” 

She shrugs. “It’s cool.”

Something tells you that she’s just saying that, and there’s a level of bitterness towards you for the distance. But, you can’t allow yourself to be hurt by that, because it’s fair. Mariah has been too good of a friend to be ditched the minute your ex comes back around. 

‘How are things with Caleb? Are you guys getting along any better?” Caleb and Mariah have only been married for two years but have already hit a rough patch, enough where he’s temporarily moved out of the house. Last you spoke with her, they were supposed to meet up to discuss what they were going to do, especially for the sake of Miach.

“Did you see him at my place last time you were there?” Her response is all you need to know that that is still a sensitive spot for her as well. Understandably so, but her shut down is so cold and unlike the sweet, gentle friend you’ve always known her to be. You were always known as the outspoken, brutal friend, though it seems that maybe as the years go by, the roles are reversing. 

Unless there's something else at play.

—-------

Today is going to be a good day. 

For Callie at least. 

Your earlier conversation with Mariah, who seemed far too eager to leave when you mentioned Joe would be arriving in less than two hours, is still circulating in your head. You know she’s only trying to look out for you, and you’re very appreciative of that, but there was some undertone to the way she spoke to you that you can’t shake off. Like, it wasn’t coming just from a place of concern, but something else that didn’t seem as genuine.

“Mommy, why are we cleaning?”

Because mommy is too broke for a maid.

You instead settle on the answer, “because we want our home nice and clean, baby.”

“But, it is clean.” She’s not entirely wrong, it’s just every so often you like to deep clean, dusting, mopping, the extra shit that usually isn’t done with daily cleaning. 

Taking a break from wiping down your kitchen counters with some overpriced cleaner you picked up from Target, you see Callie is ready to be done, the dust rag you’d given here now sitting on the coffee table.

With a heavy sigh, you ask, “you wanna play, don’t you?” Her eyes widen and her head nods enthusiastically. A quick glance at the clock indicates that Joe should be knocking at your door any minute, so you try to buy some more time. “Alright, let mommy finish here, and I’ll come play with you.”

“Yay!”

Chuckling, you listen to the sound of her run in the direction of her playroom while you finish scrubbing the counters, even if they’re as clean as they can get. It’s most likely a result of all the overthinking you’ve done the past few hours. The older you get, the more you realize you’ve become that ‘i’m anxious, so let’s clean until we’re physically exhausted’ mom. Which, technically, isn’t a horrible thing, but it’s also probably not the best way to deal with your emotions.

Not that you’ve always been the best with that either.

And that’s when you hear it, the solid two knocks you’ve been waiting for all morning. 

Smiling, you call out for Callie who marches out seconds later with a doll in her hand. “You wanna see who’s at the door for mommy?” Callie looks rightfully confused. At the same time you taught her how to open, close, and lock the door because you never know what can happen, you stressed to her that she is to never open it without permission or unless during an emergency. So, you emphasize, “it’s okay.”

Shrugging, she skips, literally skips to the door. You chuckle. This kid has so much damn personality. Moving to the sink to rinse your hands, you move slowly, waiting for it.

A loud gasp. “Joe!”

You can mentally picture the absolute surprise and happiness splashed over her little face. Grabbing the towel to dry your hands, Joe walks in holding Callie who you haven’t seen look so happy since the last time Joe was in town. 

“Mommy, Joe’s here!” 

Kids announcing the most obvious things will always be hilarious. “He sure is.” Leaning against the counter, you focus on him. “Hey.” He looks good, but he always looks good. That was always the damn problem.

He takes in you for a second, eyes lingering longer than what’s probably necessary, “hey.” He easily returns his attention back to Callie who can’t seem to stop smiling, which makes you smile. You love seeing her so happy. "I missed you."

"I missed you too!" She glances over at you, partially contrite. “Mommy, I’m gonna play with Joe instead, okay?”

You pretend to be shocked, standing upright and crossing your arms and making a face before laughing, waving her off.

“That’s fine, baby, because I am going to take a nap.” It’s much needed. Your sleep has been kinda shitty lately, and you know yourself well enough to know that exhaustion makes you bitchy. And the last thing you want is to unintentionally take that bitchiness out on her. Even Joe. Walking up to them, you poke him in his stomach. Jesus, he’s ripped. “Help yourself to anything. Just make sure she doesn’t destroy my house, please. And make her clean.”

At that, her face sours, and Joe chuckles.

“You got it.”

Satisfied, you walk back into your room, deciding to close the door. Callie will absolutely welcome herself in if need be. Plopping down on the mattress, you stare up at the ceiling, taking in a deep breath, momentarily stopping yourself from closing your eyes. For a second, you forget that Callie is not alone and unattended, thus preventing you from sleeping.

Call it being an anxious, overprotective parent, you’ve never allowed yourself to nap when it’s just the two of you. Even when she’s asleep, and when you do, you set an alarm to wake you up every ten minutes, just to make sure she’s still knocked out. It makes taking time to rest pretty difficult, if not impossible, but it’s what makes you comfortable.

It’s an easy sacrifice to make for your child.

So having another adult around, her dad, of all people, is a nice feeling. You know she’s safe and watched over. And it’s what allows you to actually fall into a peaceful slumber. 

Just for a little bit.

—-------

It is, in fact, just for a little bit.

Because you’re awoken by your phone ringing, your mom on the other end wondering what time she can expect you and Callie to come over.

Shit. 

You completely forget that you’d agreed to bring Callie to see her as it’d been “too long," according to her. You partially agreed, realizing you haven’t visited your mom since the day everything went down, what with you reaching out to Joe again and that whole fiasco.

And that’s another thing.

Your mother has no idea he’s back in the picture.

Walking out of the room, you find them in the living room, of course, watching Toy Story 2. 

Callie’s eyes light up when she sees you, but that doesn’t pull her from her position, tucked right under Joe’s side on your sofa. If you had your phone, you’d try to snap a picture. 

“That wasn’t long,” he snickers, and you glare, stopping yourself from flipping him off.

You move over to the sofa, sitting on the armrest. “That’s cause my mom called and woke me up.”

“Grandma?”

Nodding, you explain to both Callie and Joe. “I forgot we were supposed to go visit her today.”

She moves up on her knees, asking, “can we go?” She looks over at Joe. “Joe can come with us!”

You consider her suggestion. Your mom didn’t even find out about Joe until you told her you were pregnant. You kept that part of your life a secret from her for good reasons. This doesn’t seem like the best way for her to find out, to drop it on her yet again. However, one look at Callie’s desperate expression, and you already know your answer.

“Of course,” you then add on, “if he wants to.” 

Callie, being Callie, answers for him. “He wants to!” She tugs on his sleeve, excitement bubbling. “You can meet my grandma!”

You glance over at him, “are you sure? I’m sorry, I know this was supposed to be one on one with her….”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “If she wants to go, let’s go.”

You nod, praying this doesn’t end up being a bad idea.

—-------

“Mama!” You call out, watching Joe shut and lock the door behind him. Seeing that allows you to focus on where the hell your mother is. She usually meets you at the door when she knows you’re coming over. “Where is this woman?”

The car drive was pleasant enough, Callie talking almost the entire time, as expected. And Joe eating it up the whole time, also, as expected. 

You can see now he’s definitely going to be that dad. The dad who finds anything and everything his kid does to be adorable. You can’t wait for him to be on the receiving end of one of Callie’s temper tantrums and see how he handles it. 

“Grandma!” Callie suddenly calls, all the while keeping her hand in Joe’s. “I’m here!”

Finally, the sound of footsteps from upstairs as your mom comes down the stairs, home phone, yes, a home phone, held between her ear and shoulder. “I told her Bishop wasn’t gonna go for that, but you know how she is. Old fool.” It’s when she’s in the vicinity to see that it’s not just you and Callie, her eyes grow wide. “Cheryl, let me call you back.” 

Damn. 

You know that tone, that ‘let me talk to you’ tone. 

Thankfully, you get a brief save. The sight of your mom makes Callie drop Joe’s hand to sprint off to meet her on the steps. “Grandma!”

She leans down to pick up Callie, smothering her with kisses. “My favorite little lady.” 

Callie giggles as your mom descends from the steps, Callie on her hip, to approach you and Joe who’d, wisely, remained quiet up until this point. 

You watch your mom’s eyes land on him, but before she can say anything, Callie jumps in. 

“Grandma, this is Joe! He’s mommy’s friend and mine too!”

Fuck. Your mom’s eyes travel between him and Callie, once, twice, and on the third time, you know. You just know that she knows.

And that’s when you jump in, knowing you desperately need to speak with her. “Callie, why don’t you show Joe the play area?” 

Her eyes blaze with enthusiasm as your mom places her back on the ground. Callie’s little feet carry her back over to Joe who seems to understand you need to talk with your mother.

“Come on!” Taking his hand, she begins to direct him to the back of the house and through the sliding door. 

Your mom waits until she knows the two of you are alone to speak. “Girl, you done got my blood pressure all up.”

“Mama—”

“That’s Callie’s daddy, ain’t it?” She doesn’t even give you time to answer. “Don’t try to lie, either. She looks just like him.”

There’s no need in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

Her mouth drops open in rightful shock. “And just when did you plan to tell me he was back in the picture?” The questions keep coming, understandably so considering how you’ve just dropped this on her. “And why is she calling him by his first name?”

“Because she doesn't know,” you answer the second question, hating the disappointed look on her face. “We–he hasn’t told her yet.” 

“It just keeps getting worse.” She’s rubbing her temple and you just know she’s gonna need to take an Excedrin before the night is over. “Tell me everything. Now.”

And so, you do, starting with Callie’s initial question about her dad, to your phone call with Joe, his visit where he confirmed he had a daughter, all of it. And when you’re done, your mom is visibly shaken.

“Lord, he found out about her through social media?” You still feel badly about that, about a lot of it. “Well….does his wife know?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so. We haven’t really talked about that yet.” Before your mom can protest, you add, “we will. I’ll make sure of it. He just wants to get to know her first. For himself.”

Your mom chuckles, obviously having studied the close interaction between the two of them in the few minutes she’s been privy to see them engage with one another. “seems like that’s already a done deal.” 

“Yeah,” you smile warmly. “He’s really good with her.”

And it’s the truth, Joe seems to be naturally good with a lot of things, but there’s something so impressive about his ability to interact and connect with Callie. It’s so natural. 

“So, are you two…..”

“No,” you shut that down immediately. “We’re just trying to navigate coparenting.”

Your mom nods but doesn’t say anything, and you know her well enough to know it’s because she doesn’t entirely believe you. But, she won’t push.

“Well.” She claps her hands together, nodding to the backdoor. “Let me go properly introduce myself, since you got me out here looking rude. Probably got that boy thinking I don’t like him.”

“I promise, he’s not like that.” You two start walking toward the backyard where you’re certain Callie is talking a hole in his head, describing the play area your mom put together just for her when she spends the night.

She places her hand on the sliding door but pauses to look at you, “let me just say this though, that is one fine young man. I see now why you had a hard time letting him go. The devil sure knows how to tempt people.”

“Mama!” You try to suppress your laughter as the two of you walk out, sure enough to find Callie on the swing, Joe pushing her as they share their own conversation. 

She walks up to him, wearing a warm smile, giving a wink to Callie. “I’m so sorry about that. My daughter just didn’t tell me you were gonna be here.” 

Joe, forever respectful, starts to indirectly apologize.  “I hope it's not a problem. If so, I can—”

She waves him off, “oh, hush.” She leans in to whisper, “you’re practically family.” He returns her smile as she introduces herself by name, he offers his, and your wonderful mother then informs, “well, this one is gonna help me tend to my garden, cause winter will be here before we know it.” She leans down and kisses the top of Callie’s head, as she’s stopped swinging and is instead sitting. Her eyes light up at the idea of gardening with your mom. The same way you used to garden with your grandma. A bit of a tradition being passed down. “And in the meantime, you two can go finish organizing the office.” 

Your eyes widen. No wonder she didn’t hear you all coming in right away. That room, once your bedroom, became your mom’s storage area and over the years has accumulated stuff on top of stuff. Nowhere near a hoarding level, but just a lot of things that she doesn’t want to part with but needs to organize. “Mama, that's not—”

“I don't want to hear no complaining. You really want me up on that ladder?” You roll your eyes, realizing she’s referring to the top of your old closet where she keeps the storage bins of memorabilia, mostly photos. “I'm not getting any younger. What if I fall? Then you gon feel bad.”

“You're so dramatic.” Your mom acts like she's 75 and at death's door sometimes. The woman is 52 and teaches a Zumba class at the rec center every Saturday. She could fall and jump right back up like nothing happened. 

She places her hand on Joe’s arm, smiling slyly. “You got this strong, handsome man to help you out.” One thing you’ve learned as you’ve gotten older is that your tendency to unintentionally flirt from time to time 100% came from your mother. Clearly. “Besides, if you do fall, you'll be fine. You got enough booty back there to cushion it.”

“Mama!” One glance at Joe, and you see him make a face that reads clearly 'she's not entirely wrong.’ At that, you shove him, not that it does anything. He's solid as a rock. “Fine, we'll organize your mess, but not for long. Joe is only in town until tomorrow night, and he did not come here to be a part of your cleaning crew.”

“I don’t mind,” Joe adds. Of course, he doesn't. He hasn’t seen it yet, and he’s a gentleman. “Whatever you need help with, I’ll do it.”

Your mom gives you another look and then looks at him. “I like you, Joseph.”

Callie lifts her head, adding, “I like him too!”

I like him too.

“Well, get to it. When we’re done, ya’ll can help me fix some dinner.” Her eyes then land on you. “Well, not you. You can make the lemonade or something.”

Joe coughs awkwardly, poorly hiding his laughter. “I’m getting really sick of ya’ll coming for me and my poor cooking skills.”' 

Your mom directs Callie to grab her caddy with their needed gardening supplies. “Baby, you are a lot of things, but a cook ain’t one of them.” She points at Joe, sharing, “remind me to tell you the story about how she almost burned down my house.”

“Okay, we’re gonna go now.” You grab Joe’s hand and lead him back into the house toward the stairs, which he motions for you to go up first, realizing after the fact that he probably did so to stare at your ass. 

This man….

Entering your former bedroom, you stretch your arm to show you just what you signed up for. He walks in, clearly surprised. “Okay.”

“Yup.” There’s items scattered all over, your mom clearly in the middle of trying to categorize the millions of family photos ya’ll have. “Still don’t mind?”

He shrugs forever unbothered. “There’s two of us. We’ll get it done.”

Sucking your teeth, you look around, trying to figure out where the hell to start. “Your optimism is annoying.”

Chuckling, his smartass remarks, “Glass half full, baby. Glass half full.”

“Yeah, yeah, well glass your ass over there and reach me the ladder. I need the box these pictures can go in from the top.” 

He follows where you’re pointing but also gestures to the closet. “That one?” Joe makes a sound and instead of following your directions, casually walks over to said closet, reaches up and grabs the box with all the ease of someone who’s 6’3. 

Smug expression on his face, he hands it to you as you glare. “Show off.”

Joe assesses you, eyes settling on your chest before redirecting them to your face. “Maybe I should have let you get up there. View and all.”

Holding back your smile is difficult, so you settle for biting on your bottom lip and bumping his side as you move past him. “Shut up.” You know his gaze is on you and that should bother you, his flirty comment should bother you, but it doesn’t.

It doesn’t at all.

—-------

“I still can’t believe you were a cheerleader.” 

There’s probably been a decent combination of conversation and organization in your time working together to ‘unmess’ your mom’s mess. That’s not entirely surprising though. Joe has always been immensely easy to talk to, to be around. And you couldn’t deny that you missed this kind of interaction with him, the most and maybe first since he’s re-entered your life. You wholly understand why he spends and devotes most of his time with Callie, but there’s a small part of you that’s missed this. 

Missed it being just the two of you. 

Chuckling, you comment, “you’re not the first. I was….different in high school and college than I am now.”

He’s intrigued, asking, “how?”

“Well, for one, I don’t party damn near every night anymore.” One thing you could never deny about your early days was that you always liked to have a good time, liked to make your expected appearances at whatever party of the week, or day, was happening. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t drink or smoke. That was never my thing. I just….I liked to have fun, probably too much fun more often than not.” You chuckle to yourself, grabbing a stack of photos to put in the container. “Now, I like to be in bed by 9:30, 10 at the latest.”

He smiles and looks over at the wall that still has many of your cheer accolades proudly displayed. “Obviously, you were pretty damn good.”

Shrugging, you push some of your hair behind your ear. Not that it does much. Your curls have always been voluminous and wild. “I was, but….it came at a cost to some extent. Cheer is insanely competitive, and I didn’t always handle that the best.”

Competitiveness was something you deeply struggled with when you were younger. Feeling like you had to be the best, not even better than anyone else per se, but the best that you could be. Always trying to prove that you were good enough.

Looking back now, you have a solid guess of where that came from and what drove it. 

Joe’s studying you, trying to gauge your comfort level with this conversation. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” you answer, honestly. “Until I didn’t. Shortly before college, I think, is when the love started to fade.”

“But you cheered in college too, didn’t you?”

You nod, explaining, “I got a scholarship for cheer, and I wasn’t about to put that stress on my mom to have her help me figure out how to pay for school when I had an easy ride.” Around that time is when your relationship with your mom started to strengthen, and the last thing you wanted to do was risk messing it back up by being selfish. You’d cheered damn near your whole life, what was another 4 years? 

“I like your mom,” he announces, almost suddenly. It’s unsurprising. Most people do. But, there is something that pleases you about her tentative approval of him and now his of her. 

“She’s really great. I don’t know what I would do without her, and Callie adores her.” You look over at him, playfully. “Not as much as she adores you, though.”

You can see the delight in his eyes. “Yeah?”

His disbelief surprises you. How can he not see how crazy Callie is over him? “Are you kidding me? That lil girl already doesn’t shut up, but she really doesn’t shut up about you. It’s Joe this, Joe that. The first thing she asks me when I pick her up from school is always if she can call you.” Deciding this is a perfect segue, you add on, carefully. “You know….you should tell her. I can promise you, she won’t be upset. She’s gonna be thrilled.”

She already loves you.

You don’t know if it’s too soon to say that, if it’s something you should even say vs let him hear from Callie herself. You just know that there’s probably very little he could do at this point to make Callie not love him. She’s hooked.

“Christmas,” he announces, adding, “I’ll tell her when I come back for Christmas.” 

This surprises you, as he hasn’t discussed his next visit up until this point. You also don’t feel the need to comment or counter his plan and timeline to tell Callie. You can’t think of a better Christmas gift for her. “You got the time off?”

He nods, providing specifics. “I’ll be here the day before Christmas Eve. Gotta fly back out on the 26th though.”

“Stay with us.” Where this comes from, you’re not sure, but there’s not a lot of regret once it's released. “I know you hate that damn hotel, and Callie would be thrilled to have you around 24/7.” Getting up off the floor, you carry the now filled container and move up the ladder you’d used a couple times because he’d been preoccupied organizing other areas. Sliding it back in the same spot, you descend down the steps only to feel strong hands grip your waist. 

Bringing you to the ground, he carefully turns you around, but that’s not what you’re focused on. What you’re focused on is how close he is to you, your chests nearly touching, his eyes burning into you. Instantly, your stomach is knotting. You know that look, know it all too well. 

“Joe….” Your voice is soft, much softer than it needs to be when trying to assert yourself. And you hate yourself for the tiny sigh that leaves your mouth when he brings his palm to your cheek. “We—we can’t—”

“I’m divorced.”

This man, so fine and kind, and damn near pressed against you is distracting, so much so that you’re briefly disconnected from what he’s just said. But, it’s forcing yourself to come back to reality that his words truly hit you. You’re not sure you could have ever guessed that statement would ever leave his mouth. 

Slightly in shock, staring at him with bewilderment, you stammer, “w–what?”

“Two months ago, Jadah and I filed for divorce. It was uncontested, and the state of Florida is one of the quickest when it comes to processing these things.” His other hand moves to your hip, holding you still, as if he knows you want to move away from him. “I got notice it was finalized a few days ago.”

You’re listening, you really are, but hearing is another story. This has to be some type of sick joke, some type of cruel prank ripped directly out the pages of a journal kept and maintained so long ago. Cause you’d absolutely written about this at one point, written about what it would be like if he were to leave his wife. 

You just never could have anticipated it would one day become a reality.

“I—I don’t understand.” Joe only found out about Callie less than a month ago, so there’s no way she was the reason for the split. Still, you have to ask. “Wh–why?”

Something flashes in his eyes. Hurt. “It was long overdue.” He doesn’t say anything beyond that, and while you expected more, you can also see there’s more to the story. More that he’s not saying, but it’s the brief glimpse of pain that prevents you from pushing. Whatever it is, it’s clearly difficult for him to discuss. 

“Oh.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but you’re truly in a state of shock and don’t know what else to say. 

The biggest and only issue that ever existed between yourself and Joe has always been his marriage, the fact that he was already taken. It was the only reason you ever broke it off with him, but now, he’s standing before you, telling you that this is no longer the case.

You’re all of the emotions: confused, nervous, happy, hopeful, and so many more that you can’t even label.

“I didn’t say anything at first, because meeting Callie was my priority. Establishing a relationship with her was a priority. And it still is, but…..” Your eyes shut as he drops his head in the crook of your neck. “I’ve missed you.” Your hands gradually lift to lay against his chest as he sighs into you, ‘I’ve missed everything about you.” Eyes remaining shut, your nails claw gently against him as he moves his mouth over your neck. “The way you smile, the way you laugh.” His hand on your back slowly inches downward. “The way you taste.” Your breath catches as his teeth graze your collarbone. “The way you feel when I’m inside you.”

“Joe,” you breathe, the air suddenly thick, your throat tight. Breathing is incredibly arduous in this moment. “I—”

“Mommy! Joe!”

Joe’s suddenly across the damn room, it seems like, as Callie enters at both the perfect and worst time with a smile, completely oblivious to what she’s just interrupted. “Grandma said come eat!”

Frowning, you glance at the clock and realize it’s most definitely dinner time and that your mom had most likely just had Callie help her prepare the meal instead of asking you two to help.

Huh.

She moves across the room, tackling Joe from the side and craning up her head as she excitedly asks, “Wanna see what I made? Grandma helped me!”

Leaning down to pick her up, he answers, “of course, I wanna see.” He begins to walk out the door as Callie calls out for you to follow behind.

And you will. 

You just need a moment.

Because what the hell just happened?

—-------

I’m divorced.

It keeps playing in your head, on a vicious repeating cycle, like that annoying song the radio plays every 15 minutes, forcing it down your throat.

For almost the entire time you were together, you infrequently allowed yourself to dream about what your life would be like if the circumstances were different, if he wasn’t already taken. If he wasn’t already married. And each time only left you feeling worse than before, because it was stupid. You were three years deep into the situationship; if he hadn’t left his wife by then, he wasn’t leaving her period.

It was a harsh pill that took you forever to swallow.

And even then, you knew that you could never be happy. Not with the knowledge that he’d left his wife for you. It may be bliss initially, but the guilt would have eaten you up and ruined things regardless.

So accepting and telling yourself that it would never work out long-term was what kept your head above water, especially in the two months after you broke things off. And once you learned you were pregnant with Callie, there was a new kind of stress, a new kind of distraction.

Not that it made you forget about him. Hardly.

Every check up, every milestone, every kick, your mind would wander to him. Wander to a fantasy world where you imagined he was with you every step of the way, the two of you preparing together for the arrival of your first child.

Even as the years went on and Callie got older, you still would find yourself from time to time imagining how different things would be if he was around.

Well, now he is. He’s not only around, but he’s going to be actively involved in Callie’s life for the rest of her life.

And he’s now single.

All of this makes for one fucked up emotional rollercoaster ride.

Dinner is an experience, only for you, maybe Joe to some extent. He’s always had a tendency to compartmentalize emotions though, unlike yourself. Granted, if it was a struggle for him, he did a damn good job not showing it. It also probably helped a ton that Callie talked a hole in his and your mom’s head.

You knew your mom could see something was up with you but graciously opted to not ask you any questions. You wouldn’t have any answers to give her anyway. 

And you indicated as much when you were back at your apartment, and Callie in her room gathering her favorite pajamas for bed. 

“I just need time to think.” 

It’s all you can offer him, because it’s the truth. There’s so much more to consider than you could have imagined, and it’s really hard to contemplate when you still have Mariah’s voice oscillating in the back of your mind, your insecurities, and even your mom. 

So many differing perspectives, it’s hard to focus and hear your own.

Thankfully, he accepts that answer, and you accept that you’re running out of different ways to escape confronting your own emotions. 

Maybe.

Because this day has already been exceedingly long, and you’re more emotionally exhausted than anything. So when Callie comes to you complaining of a tummy ache, you administer her Children’s Tylenol, lay with her until she falls asleep, and take advantage of this rare opportunity to turn your brain off and just rest.

The hard shit could wait.

—-------

“Mommy!”

There's a certain tone every person has that's reserved for emergencies, saved for moments when something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

This is one of those moments.

You nearly trip with how quickly you jump out the bed and sprint down the hall to Callie’s room. Hitting the light switch, your stomach drops when you see her.

On her side, in a fetal position, crying profusely. 

Rushing over to her, you see too that she's pale and a hand to her forehead reveals she's burning up. Sheer panic climbs up your body, settling into your stomach and the back of your throat. Still, you do your best to not show her your fear.

“Baby, is it your tummy?” You take a hand to feel her stomach, but she screams out in pain, making you jump from her reaction.

“Mommy, it hurts,” she sobs, and you're instantly moving the blankets off her, already knowing what you need to do. 

Hand on her forehead, you assure, “I’lll be right back, okay?”

You rush back into your room, sliding on the first pair of shoes that you come across. You grab your phone off the nightstand and throw it in your purse, all in under a minute, still too long. And as soon as you're back in her room, you waste no time in lifting her into your arms. 

She winces, so you reassure, “come on, baby. It's okay, you're gonna be okay.”

It's what you're telling yourself, the only thing keeping you from panicking. Unsure and uncaring at this moment if you lock the front door behind you, you carry her down the steps and into the dark of night, carefully but quickly buckling her into her carseat.

Hating to see her continue to cry, to be in pain, you kiss her forehead, “I’m gonna get you some help, okay? We're going to the hospital.”

She can only nod, and your eyes water. Your forever talkative child is rendered speechless by her pain. It crushes you.

Hopping into the driver's seat, you grab your phone, trembling fingers locating the address of the hospital. You hit share and send it to Joe before pressing the call button and tossing your phone into the passenger seat to zoom out of the parking lot.

Your phone is connected to your vehicle, ringing three times before he picks up, voice heavy with sleep. “Hey.”

“I need you to meet me at the hospital. I already sent you the address.” You do your best to remain calm and collected, to not scare Callie more than she's already scared. Even if you’re fucking terrified. “Something is wrong with Calista.”

[pijjafairys]

⚠️Trigger warning before read: contains depression, bad mental health⁠⁠​, self-deprecating thoughts/negative self-talk⁠⁠​, academic stress/anxiety⁠.⁠

The living room in your small apartment is totally a mess when you let him step inside. The scattered papers and your disheveled appearance answer the question in his mind. Your boyfriend, Nanami Kento, has come over to help you with your task. He carefully makes his way to the couch, avoiding the papers strewn across the floor.

You sit next to him, pressing your face into your palms. "I'm a failure," you mutter under your breath. He catches your words as he powers on his laptop. "What do you mean, sweetheart?" he asks gently, but you're too deep in your despair to respond.

In your final year of college, you feel completely lost in your major while your classmates seem to excel effortlessly. "I'm a failure. I can't do this anymore. I'm dumb and not worthy." You continue muttering these self-deprecating words into your palms. Nanami moves closer, placing his hands on your knees and rubbing them soothingly. "Sweetheart, hey, can you hear me?" His warm, gentle voice calls out, but your mind remains clouded with negative thoughts. "Sweetheart, look at me." After several attempts, he gently pulls your hands from your face and tilts your chin up. His eyes widen at the sight of your tear-streaked face. Cupping your cheeks, he wipes away your tears with his thumbs. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Do you want to talk about this? I'm all ears." You shake your head slightly, worried about being a burden. "I won't judge you, I promise." His words break down your defenses. Your lips quiver as fresh tears roll down your cheeks. He pulls you into an embrace, rubbing your back comfortingly.

Between sobs, clutching his shirt, you try to explain: "It's hard, the task. I feel lost and couldn't ask my friends for help because they were busy too. But when—when—" You struggle to continue, choking back sobs as you recall your recent text conversation with one friend. "When I showed my classmate my problems, he was shocked that I was still struggling so close to the deadline. He told me he'd finished ages ago, so—so—" You grip your trousers tightly, steadying yourself. "He's just working on the easier parts now, and he lectured me about doing the hardest parts first. And blah blah whatever." Looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes, you continue, "I didn't get any actual help, dear... Just his perspective, judgment, and a comparison to his progress..." Your voice was just barely a whisper when you said that. You pause to catch your breath, your hands trembling in his gentle grip as he soothes them with a gentle rub from his thumbs. After a deep breath, you add, "I know he didn't mean harm... but I feel so insignificant, and I keep wondering—why would he say that to me... And I keep questioning myself until now..."

And there he is, sitting nicely and quietly listening to your rambles with no judgment in his gaze. It’s just full of understanding in his gentle eyes, full of compassion and care. After a few minutes, he carefully ask you, "Are you finished, sweetheart? Or is there more you want to tell me?" his thumbs wiping your tears away. You shake your head and clean your nose with a tissue, feeling somewhat relieved after sharing your burden. With a gentle smile, he strokes your head affectionately. "Sweetheart, your current struggles don't define your future—we can find our true passion along life's journey. People switch careers even after spending years in a field, and you can too."

He paused for a moment, his intent gaze searching yours with warmth before continuing, "You'll find your own path in time. I know you're trying your hardest, and I believe in you completely. I'm so proud of how far you've come. Please don't put yourself down. I'm here to support you, cheer you on, and be proud of you." His sweet, gentle words comfort you as his knuckles brush your cheeks, and he tucks your hair behind your ears. "Let me help you with your task, okay? We'll go through it slowly—would you like that?" he asks softly.

You nod, earning a warm smile and soft sigh from him. He kisses the top of your head before pulling away. "Good girl," he says softly, helping you gather the scattered papers on the ground. Together, you spend hours organizing and solving problems. He patiently explains variables and methods, repeating explanations until you understand fully. The sun was half on the horizon, and the sky outside your apartment building was tinted with warm orange and red when you finished your task. You celebrate with claps and cheers, "Thank you so much for the help, dear. I won't finish that soon without your help." He stretches his weary limbs and ruffles your hair affectionately. "Good job, I'm very proud of you, you know? And please don't mind it, sweetheart. I knew you were smart and capable. I only help you by explaining the methods," he says with a warm smile. You give him a playful glare, blushing and grinning. "You are so cheeky..." you mumble shyly. He laughs and gently pinches your cheek. "There's my playful and precious girlfriend. Should we get your favorite dinner outside? Of course with ice cream for dessert to celebrate this."

Your evening concludes with a dinner date after completing your work together. Your boyfriend, Nanami Kento, a practicum assistant and top student in your major, has loved you from the beginning. Despite his busy schedule, he prioritizes you because he cherishes you as his girlfriend and values you more than anyone or even yourself, determined to help you feel valued and prevent you from falling into depression again—he won't risk losing you this time.

[clownstillwritesfanfic]

Just For You - Stefan Butler X GN! Reader

Summary: Stefan knows someone is controlling him. He’s still not sure what ‘Netflix’ is or how exactly they’re controlling him, but even with all the craziness, he’s been making good progress with Bandersnatch and it’s all thanks to them. That’s why he doesn’t fight back when they help him relax.

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3,046

Warnings: masturbation, edging, gaslighting (sorta), dirty talk, little bit of an unhealthy attachment on Stefan’s side

Disclaimer: Since Netflix decided to get rid of Bandersnatch…I wrote something that has been on my mind for a while. I’m gonna mourn tf outta this episode because it was so unique and fun. I played it for hours and never got bored. Finding all the choices and endings was so much fun and I’m going to miss it as it becomes lost media :( This takes place in the timeline where Stefan knows about Netflix and it’s after his fight with Dr Haynes. As always, this fic is plus size, trans, and poc reader friendly. If I’ve made a mistake please feel free to let me know!

———————————————————————

Stefan is typing away at his computer, trying to finish the code for his game.

He locked himself in his room hours ago. Not like his dad was going to come in anyway. He was proper mad at him on account of what he did a few hours ago.

After learning about Netflix and that his decisions were being controlled by someone, he let his new friend take control and do whatever they want. He’s been making good progress with the code thanks to them so maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

Keep Working | Take A Break

He sighed as he saved his work and sat back. He stretched his arms up over his head and curled his back, groaning at the feeling of his tense muscles loosening. He ran his hands down his face as he brought his arms back down and he clenched and unclenched his fingers to stretch them out as well.

“Thanks.” He said out loud, knowing you heard him. He was grateful that you had some mercy on him. While he thought some of the decisions you made were questionable, after talking to you properly he realized you weren’t as in control as you said you were.

His screen glitched before going black and a white symbol of a thumbs up appeared on his screen. He smiled softly as he crossed his arms and thought back to what happened after visiting Dr. Haynes.

————

Stefan was laughing hysterically as his dad dragged him out of the building and towards his car. People watched, silently judging.

Peter threw his son in the back seats of the car, not trusting him to stay upfront. Stefan laid on his back, catching his breath from his fit of laughter as he stared at the ceiling of the car with a big grin on his face.

“Was that entertaining?” He breathed out, talking to his new friend even though he knew they probably couldn’t have answered without his computer.

“You made a fucking fool of yourself is what you did.” His dad replied angrily as he put his seatbelt on. “Honestly, Stefan. You better hope she allows you to see her again otherwise I’m going to have to find another psychiatrist for you and hope that word hasn’t gotten to them that you’ve become violent due to your imaginary friend!”

Stefan wasn’t listening to him for most of that but he heard the ending.

“They’re not imaginary.” He whispered, still smiling at the ceiling knowing you’re watching him. Making friends was hard for him, he didn’t really have any he could call a mate. But maybe you could be the first.

When he got home he rushed back upstairs to his room, ignoring his dad’s shouting. He locked the door behind him and quickly walked over to his computer and turned it on pulling up his chair and sitting down. He shifted nervously and licked his lips, his eyes wide, hoping this would work.

“Hello. Are you there?” He asked.

A few seconds of silence went by with no change.

“Hello? Oh come on. Please talk to me. I did all that for you! Well, you made me do it but it’s ok. I actually enjoyed it.” He let out a nervous laugh.

Ignore Him | Talk To Him

The screen glitched again to a black screen. Stefan perked up and leaned in closer, ready to see what you had to say.

“Hello.” The word typed out on the screen.

“Hi.” He said nervously, like a shy child being introduced to someone new.

“So uh…you wanted something more entertaining?” He played with his fingers.

“I didn’t have a choice.” The words spelled out.

“What do you mean? Are you being controlled too?” He looked concerned.

“No. At least I don’t think I am. How meta would that be?”

“Well what did you mean by not having a choice?”

“I was only given two options. Both would have given me the same outcome of you attacking Dr. Haynes.”

“I see.” Stefan thought. “But…you liked it…right?”

“I did. I never really liked her anyway. She never believed you.”

He smiled “Heh…yeah.”

“You called me your friend.” The screen read.

“Oh…uh…yeah. I did.” He blushed slightly out of embarrassment. “Is that alright? I mean I haven’t had many friends and knowing you’ve been with me for a while…it’s just…I don’t know.” He trailed off, feeling stupid.

“I don’t mind. I would like to be your friend. :)”

“Oh good…yeah.” He smiled, relieved. “Um…do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

“I will do my best to answer.”

“Cool. Uh…first…have you, always…been watching me? Like when I was a kid?”

“No. I first saw you the morning of your pitch for your game. I helped you choose your cereal.”

“Really?” He let out a breathy laugh. “Even mundane things like that? That’s kind of boring. So, you’ve been with me since then?”

“Yes. But not every minute. I see you in random points of time. Like when you watch a show and they cut to a new scene. For you, hours or days could have passed but for me it has only been a few seconds.”

“So…I’m like…in a tv show right now? To you I’m a fictional character?” He swallowed, trying to understand.

“Yes. I know it is hard to understand. I would feel the same if the roles were reversed. You are played by an actor for me. But I do believe you are real.”

“I don’t understand. If I’m a character on a show for you…how could I also be real? Wouldn’t that make all of this fake?” He shifted.

“Not necessarily. In my realm of reality, yes. But in yours, no. Remember what Colin said about different timelines?”

“No?” Stefan looked confused. He didn’t remember that.

“Oh…right. That was a different pathway.”

“What? Different…you’re confusing.”

“It was like a game over try again sort of situation. Something…happened and it didn’t end well so I was given the choice to go back and pick the other option which led us here right now. It never happened for you in this timeline but there is one out there where I made the wrong choices.”

“What happened?” He felt nervous. What did they do?

“That is not important anymore. The point is, I have my own reality and you have yours. To you, my reality is fake and you’re the only one that believes it’s real. And to me, your reality is fake but I’m the only one that believes it’s real. I know it’s real. I know you are real.”

“This is…such a…” He tried to find a word.

“Mindfuck?” The screen displayed.

“Yeah.” Stefan laughed at the new word. “Yeah that.”

“Enough about that. Do you want to know anything more…lighter?”

“Uh yeah. How old are you?”

A number was displayed on the screen.

“Oh cool. I’m nineteen.”

“You’re technically older than me lol :)”

“I guess I am yeah. If you’re from the future. What does L O L mean?”

“Laugh Out Loud. Just another way to say something is funny. Abbreviations in messaging become more popular in the 90’s.”

“Cool. Uh…are you a boy or a girl?”

“Does that matter?”

“No. It doesn’t. Just curious. Oh!” He hits himself on the head. “How rude of me. I haven’t even asked what your name is.”

“No worries. It’s Y/N.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “Is there anything important I should know about the future?”

“Don’t go to New York in 2001.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Bit weird. What happens?”

“I shouldn’t spoil anything. But it leads to us not being able to bring bottle of water onto a plane.”

“Wow…ok.” He leans back.

You both talked for a good while, talking about where you were from, how the gaming industry advances through the years, you even tried to describe what you look like, which Stefan complimented, until you encouraged him to get back to working on his game.

————

And now here you both were after you made him take a break.

“What should I do now?” He asked. It was late at night. The sun had gone down a few hours ago. He looked at the clock and saw it was now midnight.

Eat | Relax

He felt the urge to get up and grab some food. His stomach rumbled.

“Hmm…yeah I guess I should.” He stood up, stretching once again. His shirt pulling up slightly showing off his belly button and the small trail of hair that lead down into his trousers.

He unlocked his door and slowly opened it, listening for any sign of his dad. He really didn’t want to talk to him right now.

He crept down the stairs and walked over to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and looked at his options. There was leftover Chinese take away from last night’s dinner. He looked at the counter and saw the loaf of bread. He knew there was a can of beans in the pantry too.

Leftover Chinese | Beans On Toast

He looked back in the fridge and grabbed the leftovers and popped it in the microwave.

He took his now heated meal back upstairs to his room and sat in front of his computer once again. He didn’t want to miss any opportunity to talk to you.

He took a bite of his food and sighed. “Good choice.” He mumbled around the food in his mouth. Having you around made things a little easier when it came to things like this. Giving up control and letting someone make the decision for him felt freeing.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you eat beans on toast.” The text teased.

“Oi! Beans on toast is a classic. It’s delicious.” He playfully defended.

“It was a meal created during the war when rations were low. No other country regularly eats war time food.”

“It stuck around because it’s good. If you hadn’t already made me heat this up, I’d go down there right now and make some just to spite you.” He shoved a chip in his mouth. It wasn’t as good as it was when fresh. A little soggy and lost its crunch but still tasted good.

“Hold on…is that fries? Why do you have fries in your Chinese food?”

“It’s chips.” He remarked. “Chinese food always has chips in it. They’re delicious.”

“Wtf.”

“What does that mean?”

“What the fuck. Chinese food does NOT have chips in it where I’m from. We wouldn’t even think of doing that. Why are you Brits so obsessed with chips?”

“Because they’re GOOD.” He defended.

“Whatever. Shut up and eat your food.”

He held up two fingers resembling a peace sign towards the screen.

“I know what that means, jackass.” The text disappeared to show an image of a middle finger being held up causing Stefan to chuckle.

Ten minutes later, Stefan has finished his food, the takeaway box and fork left on his desk for him to deal with later.

“Now what?” He asked.

Keep Working | Relax

Stefan looked over to his bed and saw how inviting it looked. He stood up and made sure to turn his computer monitor slightly so he would be able to see the screen from his bed. He climbed into bed and sat with his back against the headboard.

Read a book | Really Relax

Stefan could feel something change in him. He felt his cock jump in his pants and he looked down at it in nervous shock.

“Um…what did you do?” He called out.

“Why? What’s happening?” The text on the screen asked.

“Uh…n-nothing!” He could feel his face heat up as blood rushed further down too. His cock was slowly growing more and more hard. He grabbed his blanket and pulled it over his lap to try and hide it, not knowing if you could see it or not.

“I just chose “Really Relax”. I wasn’t sure what exactly that meant. Are you alright?”

“Mhm” Stefan nodded as he placed his hands over his lap and pressed down, hoping that would help somehow. But all that did was increase the friction on his steadily growing dick, making him let out a groan.

“Are you…hard?” The screen asked.

Yes | No

Stefan could feel himself wanting to tell the truth but he fought against it. “N-no.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“You wanted this?!” He gasped.

“No. I didn’t know what was going to happen. But I’m not mad about it.”

“You’re not?” His cock was fully hard now and aching to be touched. He couldn’t stop himself from slightly thrusting his hips.

“Nope. I actually find it quite hot.”

“Y-you do?” He breathed heavily. He’s never done anything sexual with anyone. He was a complete virgin and he felt embarrassed that this was happening but knowing that you found the situation hot…it made him feel better.

“If you really don’t want to do it. You have the power to fight it off. You’ve done it before.”

Keep Going | Stop | Let Him Decide

Stefan had a feeling of complete control over his next move. He wished you made the choice for him because he felt so embarrassed knowing what he wanted to do. But he also felt relief and joy knowing you weren’t going to force him to do something he possibly didn’t want to do, even if you rarely were given that option.

“I…I want to keep going.” He whispered.

There was a few seconds of silence as he stared at the screen nervously. He hoped he hadn’t made you uncomfortable.

“Ok.” The screen displayed.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Are you…are you going to stay?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes. If they let me.”

Stefan breathed heavily as he moved the blanket off his lap, his dick clearly outlined in his jeans. He moaned as he slowly palmed himself over his clothes. He was so sensitive.

He undid the button on his jeans and pulled down the zipper before pulling his trousers off and throwing them somewhere in the room. He gripped himself through his boxers and groaned as he massaged his aching cock.

“Take it off.” He almost missed the new text on his computer. He whined and pulled his boxers off and threw them with his jeans. His cock now stood straight out and the slight coolness of the room made his already sensitive dick throb and spit out a little bit of precum.

“C-can you see it?” He panted as he gripped the base of it. God he wished they could.

“No. This is considered like borderline porn on my end so they can’t show it. All I see is your chest and up.”

“Fuck.” He doesn’t know why he wants you to see him so bad but he’s finding this whole situation hot.

He slowly started to move his hand up and down his cock, pleasure shooting through him. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last knowing someone was watching him.

Lick | Spit

Stefan felt himself lift his hand to his mouth and spit in it before resuming his actions. The spit made it easier for him to move his hand and it felt so much better, and knowing you’re the one that made him do it made it feel intimate.

“Fuuuck.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He tried to imagine what you looked like based off your description from earlier. The mental image of you sucking on his cock makes him let out a moan.

“What are you thinking about?” The text on the screen went unnoticed for a while until Stefan slightly opened his eyes and noticed it changed.

“Oh…uh…hmm” He never stopped his hand as he tried to speak. He sped up his hand as he got lost in the pleasure. His eyes rolled back and he dropped his head back. His free hand gripping the blanket.

“I uh…I was trying to imagine you. What you look…like.” He breathed out. “I know you can’t…fully see what I’m doing. But are you enjoying it?”

“Yes. Very much. It’s insanely hot.”

He whimpered at that.

“Are you…touching yourself too?” He felt embarrassed asking.

A few seconds of silence went by as he stared at his computer, not slowing down as he waited for a response.

“Yes.” He got his response.

“Fuuuck!” He threw his head back. “Shit. Oh my god. I’m gonna c-cum soon.”

Stop | Cum

Stefan’s eyes flew open as he suddenly let go of his throbbing cock, his release fading away.

“Nooo.” He whined. “What did you do that for?”

“Couldn’t let this end so soon.” Was the pixelated reply.

“Fuck come on. That’s so unfair.”

“Shut up and be a good boy.”

He let out a shuddered breath as his dick jumped in interest at the words.

“Go slow.”

He wrapped his hand around himself again, starting up a slow pace. He could feel his climax slowly rising again. This was such an odd situation but he couldn’t deny how much pleasure he was getting from it.

After ten minutes of pure torture, being guided on how fast or slow to move, Stefan couldn’t take it anymore.

“God, please…please! Please just let me cum already. I can’t take it anymore.” He pleaded. Sweat was beading on his forehead as his hand was moving quickly over his cock. The slick noise melded together with his deep breathing and moans.

“Go ahead.”

With the electronic confirmation, he felt like his cock had erupted. Cum covered his hand and added to the slick sounds as he slowed down, riding out his high. He was having a hard time staying quiet as his body shook, barely able to contain the pleasure.

“That was….intense.” He gasped after regaining his breath.

“But good?” The computer asked.

“Very. Yeah…amazing. Heh.” He breathed and leaned his head back.

Continue Working | Sleep

Stefan could feel himself slowly close his eyes. Exhaustion from the day taking over him.

“Goodnight, Stefan…”

[humongousgothskeletonfarm]

TGR CHAPTER 22 THOUGHTS

and spoilers!!!

GUYS I THINK THIS IS THE LAST POST I JUST WANTED TO SAY IM GLAD THEY WERE SUCH A HIT AND U ALL LIKED THEM I RLLY THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SOMETHING THAT ONLY I WOULD SEE BUT IM HAPPY UR ENJOYING MY RAMBLING AND STUPID COMMENTS

- THEAS HERE???

- HOLY FUCK GUYS ANDREWS LETTING AARON DRIVE HIS CAR THIS IS CRAZY OMFG WHAT A DEVELOPMENT ARE WE ALL EXCUTED ABOUT THIS PROGRESS????

- NEIL CAUSING DRAMA FOR THEA AND NOT GIVING A SINGLE FUCK ABOUT EXPOSING THE FACT THAT THIS IS HER SECOND VISIT TO THEM IS SO FUNNY HES SOOOOO UNSERIOUS HE LEGIT JUST DIPS OUT LEAVING A TRAIL OF CHAOS BEHIND HIM

- “Not her first visit to the Foxhole Court,” the reporter guessed. ​“The court? Unknown.” Neil gave a careless shrug he immediately and obviously regretted.

THIS DAMN NEAR SENT ME INTO HYSTERICS HIS NUMBER ONE HOBBY WAS NEVER EXY IT WAS ALWAYS FUCKING WITH REPORTERS THATS HIS TRUE LIFE CALLING

- good lord i fucking despite jeremy’s family. i hope he can get out of there soon i rlly do

fuck u warren

- cat and jeans matching bikes i love them😭

- jean being so proud of his bike is everything and so is jeremy saying “Jean was more interesting by far.”

- JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ANOTHER RAVEN IS DEAD. this is actually just sad.

- ANOTHER TWO? one of them being cody’s cousin which icl i completely forgot about BUT WHAT WHY TF WAS NOBODY KEEPING AN EYE ON THEM

- laila riding a motorcycle to get to jeremy coz he needed her :(

- “She was saying something about loosening every screw on Bryson’s desk and chair.” CATALINA ALVAREZ PLS MARRY ME UR SO FUNNY AND COOL IM SO IN LOVE WITH U

nora if ur listening i am currently requesting a neil, jean, cat teamup. they could be unstoppable!

-“But I will choose you every time. You, and Cat, and Laila, every time. I will lose them all if I must.” GUYSSSSSS DONT PLAY WITH ME RN THIS MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME. JEREMYS HEART JUST EXPLODED BTW IDK IF YALL CAUGHT THAT

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

- istg, nora making jean ride a motorcycle was one of her best decisions. i never would’ve expected it and i love it. i wish i was as cool as jean

- oh ew that’s so fucking disgusting. poor lyle.

- “Some of it… It was very long and very boring.” — me when i’m asked if a read the terms and conditions to literally anything

(sorry, now isn’t the time or place to be joking)

- “It is hideous, but it is better than wearing black.” ohhhhh he’s SO bold now,, i remember a time when jean moreau would’ve never dared to every think that let alone tell a raven that. he’s progressed so much 😭

- “Thank you for visiting. It is a rare treat to see Jeremy happy.” guys stop i love william actually he’s an honorary member of the group now

- “If she doesn’t know you enough to trust you now, she never will.” “You don’t know that.”

he said what he said, clock it jean! nah in actuality this shit is so sad poor jere constantly fighting for his mothers approval, going along with her demands to please her rather than doing what’s best for him. he keeps trying, keeps pushing himself for a shred of her love :(

- jean 🤝 neil: having the most boring fucking favourite colours

(i can’t judge i always say black)

- “Brown like the gaze that sought Jean out in every room, but that last thought wasn’t one he could linger on.” KICKING MY FEET RN GUYS

- the daffodil artwork :(

- jean brushing his fingers through lailas hair because he knows it is a sign of affection between the girls and he knows laila needs some comfort. when will nora stop inflicting this pain upon me

- TANNER IS JEANS DUCKLING

- “He slowly separated her hair into sections. It’d been years since he’d done this for Elodie; he could barely remember how it was supposed to go. He tried and failed and tried again, until he got far enough to understand what he was doing.” DO I HIGHLIGHT THIS YELLOW FOR HAPPY AND SWEET SCENES OR BLUE FOR MADLY DEPRESSING SHIT????

- “But the braid in his hand was a rope back to sunlight and solid ground” they’re his safe place :(

- “She prayed for a dragon to save her.” ​Laila’s tone was gentle, like she thought he’d retreat if she spoke too loudly. “Not a prince?” ​“A dragon could tear our house apart to free her and carry her far away.” OH NORA STOP UR JUST TORTURING ME AT THIS POINT LET ME LIVEEE

- “He had a feeling he knew the answer, but it worth a try anyway: “Peaches are trees?” Her nod had him grumbling discontent into his water” bruh he’s so fucking cute i wanna squish his face

- what’s the bet that now that jean has agreed to a dog, the dog they end up getting loves jean the most out of all of them (jean will slowly warm up to it)

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR!!!!!

- “You don’t even have a bed yet,” Jean complained. ​“I have a face she can—” you have a what sorry cat??? i think u got cut off at the end there

- jeremy being so excited for the dog is fucking adorable

- JEAN HAVING A STARING COMPETITION WITH A DOG, LOSING, AND THEN RESORTING TO TELLING THE DOG HE DOESNT SEE THE APPEAL IN HIM IS SO HILARIOUS HES SUCH A BITCH

HES FULLY BEEFING WITH A GERIATRIC DOG RN CALLING IT OUT FOR ITS HYGIENE AND GETTING OFFENDED FHAT IT MIGHT UNDERSTAND FRENCH

NOW HES TELL THE DOG ITS PARENTS ABANDONED IT

“Maybe it perfectly timed its own to his and that was why he always missed it.” i think this is paranoia jean, the conspiracy theories r a step too far

“Jean stared it down, refusing to lose to a beast he could easily shove inside his backpack. He lost” genuinely might have to be the funniest part of the whole book

- Jean v Rex the saga continues: jean bullies rex over his name. jean is clearly more affected as rex is a dog and cannot understand english. “He is not a dinosaur”

- “studying Jean’s face like the secret to the universe was just out of reach.” oh!

- “He’s asleep.” ​“He’s faking it,” Jean said. ​“He likes you,” WHAT DID I TELL U

- “We do not,” Jean corrected him, but both men ignored him.” jean getting ignored by dogs and humans alike today

- “He almost asked, then decided he didn’t need to give the impression he cared.” yessss jean! ur so nonchalant rn i promise.

- “Embrace fatherhood.” nothing to say just that this whole chapter had me so delighted. a very welcome tone change from everything else that had just happened

- “Not for me, Jean warned himself, but for one moment, just this moment, he would let himself pretend.” AHHHHHH GUYSSSS ITS HAPPENINGGGGGGG

AND THATS A WRAP GUYS WTF THANK U FOR JOINING ME ON THIS JOURNEY I HOPE U HAD FUN. THE BOOK WAS GREAT THANK U MS NORA SAKAVIC AS ALWAYS. ILL SEE U ALL AGAIN WHEN BOOK THREE IS OUT!!! IM GONNA GO READ SOME FANFIC NOW

[memorabxlia]

Fighting for Love ━ 이한

genre: fluff, angst summary: req by @minkilicious warnings: language, toxicity, switches pov, very angsty, mentions food pairing: idol!leehan x fem!reader wc: 1.6k a/n: reposted from my old blog and personally a favorite of mine nets: @blossomnet

You never expected to meet someone like Leehan, he was your perfect match in every way. You met through a mutual friend's get-together, you were instantly drawn to his kind and caring nature, while he was drawn to your drive and ambition. You quickly became inseparable, often alternating hanging out at each other's places. 

However, as your relationship progressed, you noticed that Leehan could be quite possessive and controlling at times. You brushed it off as his way of showing love and didn't want to cause any conflict between you. You also noticed that he would often become distant and moody, but you attributed it to his stressful job as an idol.

The sunlight peeked through the curtains and landed on your face, gently waking you up from your slumber. As you slowly opened your eyes, you couldn't help but smile at the familiar surroundings of Leehan's room.

You stretched your arms above your head, feeling the warmth of the soft sheets against your skin. Leehan was still sound asleep next to you, his unruly hair sticking out in all directions. You couldn't resist running your fingers through it, making him shift and mumble in his sleep.

You took a moment to wake up and you couldn't shake the feeling like something was off. You tried to brush off the feeling and just enjoy your day together. After all, you had planned a romantic picnic in the park. However, as you got ready and headed out, You couldn't shake the strange sensation that had been lingering since you woke up.

As you drove to the park, You noticed Leehan's hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. He seemed more tense and lost in thought, not his usual cheerful self. But when you asked him if anything was bothering him, he just smiled and said he was fine.

You decided to let it go and enjoy your picnic. Yet, throughout the day, You couldn't help but notice more and more changes in Leehan's behavior. He was quieter than usual, and his smile seemed forced. He didn't seem interested in the things you used to love doing together, like taking walks or having deep conversations.

As the sun began to set, you made your way back home. Leehan insisted on cooking dinner, something he rarely did. But even as you sat down to eat, he barely touched his food and kept glancing at his phone. You could feel that something was bothering him, and you couldn't stay silent any longer.

'Hey, Leehan. Can we talk for a minute?' you said, making him look up from his phone.

'What now?' he sighs.

'I just wanted to check in and see if everything is okay. You've been easily irritated all day.' you said trying to figure out your boyfriend.

'Oh my god, you're so nosy. He snaps at you. 

You snap back at him, eyebrows furrowing. 'I'm just trying to understand what's bothering you.'

'It's none of your damn business, that's what's bothering me! Can't you just leave me alone?' he sighs again, getting irritated at your prying.

'But I care about you and I want to help if something is bothering you. you say voice cracking slightly.

'You wouldn't understand,' he says.

'How can I know if you don't tell me?' you try to reason with him. 

'Just drop it, okay? I don't need you constantly breathing down my neck.' he said. you take a deep breath trying to keep the tears at bay.

'I'm not trying to be nosy, I just want to make sure everything is okay between us.'

'Everything is fine, okay? Can we just drop it and move on?'

'Leehan, please tell me what's wrong. I won't judge you.' you say wholeheartedly.

'You want to know the truth? I'm fucking sick of you always trying to fix everything. Can't you just let me be in a bad mood without fucking interrogating me every damn time? he says suddenly raising his voice. you jump back in surprise, not used to him raising his voice at you.

"How am I to know you were in a "bad mood" if you don't fucking tell me, I thought we were on the same page when it came to communicating how we feel but apparently not.'

Rolling his eyes he says. 'I can't deal with this right now.'

'You can't deal with this? You? We wouldn't be having this conversation if you knew how to fucking communicate better! you snapped, thoroughly getting tired of his bullshit. 

He yells back. 'We wouldn't be having this conversation if you would just let me be!' 

He huffs. 'I'm leaving-' you cut him off.

'No, I'm leaving, I need some space. I don't know what crawled up your ass this morning but before you call or text me your attitude might want to change and if not you can kiss this relationship goodbye. You grab your bag and keys leaving to your place, tears streaming down your face trying to process everything that just went on. You didn't want to cause an argument, but maybe you had pushed him too far. You just hoped that he would come back and talk to you, so you could figure things out. 

*Leehan's POV*

As I sat alone in my room, staring at the blank walls, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of regret wash over me. It had been a week since Y/n and I had that huge fight, and she had stormed out of my apartment in tears. I had been so caught up in my own problems and stress that I didn't even notice how much I had been neglecting her.

Y/n had been my girlfriend for 5 months now, and I had always taken her for granted. I never truly appreciated her or showed her how much she meant to me. But now, as I sat here alone, I realized how much I had hurt her with my careless words and actions.

I remembered all the times she had been there for me, through my highs and lows, and how I had never truly reciprocated that love and support. I had been too selfish to see what mattered, and now I was paying the price.

I picked up my keys and drove to her house, hoping she would be there. After a few knocks, almost giving up, she finally opened the door, her voice sounding distant and cold. 'What are you doing here?'

'Y/n, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I know I've been a terrible boyfriend, and I regret every hurtful thing I said to you. I promise to make it up to you and show you how much you mean to me.'

She folds her arms and says 'It's not just about what you said, Leehan. It's about how you've been acting towards me. I thought you were my boyfriend not one of your friends.'

'I am your boyfriend, y/n. I've just been going through some personal stuff and I took it out on you. I know that's not an excuse, but I hope you can forgive me.

Her face softens. I do forgive you, but I need to know that you'll communicate with me whenever you have a bad day or just need to rant about something.

'I promise I will. You mean a lot to me, Y/N, and I don't want to lose you over something stupid like that.' I said, holding her close.

As we stood there, in each other's arms. I knew that I had been given a second chance, a chance to make things right and to show Y/N how much she meant to me. 

Over the next few weeks, I put in effort to show Y/n how much she meant to me. I planned romantic dates, surprised her with small gifts, and most importantly, I listened to her. I listened to her fears, her dreams, and her thoughts, and I realized how much I had been missing out on.

Slowly but surely, Y/n began to open up to me again. We talked about our fight, and I apologized once more, promising to never take her for granted again.

As I sit here now, with Y/n by my side, I can't help but feel grateful for the fight that brought us closer. It made me realize how much she truly meant to me and how lucky I am to have her in my life.

From that day on, I made a promise to always cherish and appreciate Y/n, and I knew that I would never let her go again.

[scribblewrites]

Just be with me

Katsuki Bakugou x gn!reader hurt/comfort

this is my first time writing so don’t expect much

this is very much just me projecting lol. Reader feels like crap, Bakugou comforts them. He might be a bit ooc

TW: mentions of SH, Reader has anxiety/breakdown and is overall feeling bad

take care of yourselves! ♥

— Bakugou sat in the common area as the smell of the class's dinner (now slightly burnt thanks to Kaminari setting the oven wrong) filled the air. He disinterestedly scrolled his phone, occasionally listening to the extras complaining about how hard Aizawa sensei had pushed them in training. A scoff was thrown in here and there from Bakugou’s place on the couch.

Motioning to get up and start yelling at Kaminari for ruining dinner, Bakugou stopped as his phone went off with a flurry of texts. Grunting, he opened his phone again

“Tch, what the hell is it now”

——————————Y/N——————————

7:14 PM -hey

7:14 PM-can you come to my dorm?

7:16 PM -soon, please

He stared at his phone, worry slowly forming on his face. Now that he thought about it, y/n hadn’t joined the rest of the extras after class like they normally do. They hadn’t been roaming the kitchen impatiently waiting for dinner like normal either. Suddenly their absence became increasingly prevalent in his mind. He noticed a slight change in their behavior the past few days but chalked it up to the stress of upcoming exams the whole class was experiencing.

“I’ll be back, gotta grab somethin’ from my room” Bakugou hurriedly walked towards the elevators before anyone could say something.

—Reader’s POV—

You were sitting crisscross on your bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of you desperately trying to control your breathing. The stupid overwhelming feeling in your chest sat heavy as you silently willed tears, sobs, anything to escape. Anxiety weighed you down the past couple of days. Ignoring it didn't work like you hoped, resulting now in the panic and shame suffocating you.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The sting of your outer thighs began to feel more and more intense. They were scratched to hell, red marks swelling slightly in the tracks of your nails. Small cuts were littered among the scratches. Not deep enough to cause any real damage or scar, but enough to now sit as an ugly reminder of your outburst mere minutes ago.

“Ughh, why did I text him” you groaned, pressing your palms into your eyes and laying back.

It’s stupid. You just didn’t want to be alone now. it hasn’t been this bad in months, shit maybe years. Over the weekend it got progressively worse and now you’re stuck, feeling somewhere in between numbness and regret.

knock knock

The harshness of the fist on your door gave away who was there. Slowly sitting up and letting out a shaky sigh you called him in.

“It’s open.” the door quickly swung open and shut as Bakugou stormed towards you.

“What the hell is up with your ominous ass texts? You’ve been actin’ weird all day and it’s throwing me off” It only took him a few strides to cross over in front of your bed.

He looked you up and down, finally analyzing your face after his rough entrance. His face shifted slightly after he saw the dullness in your eyes and the state of your legs. The normal disinterested look on his face remained, but you didn’t miss the subtle softening in his eyebrows or the concern growing in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“hey, too you too Katsuki” The half-hearted jab fell weakly from your lips.

“Shit. Um, I could-- do you want me to"

“No.” you interrupted his awkward attempt at figuring out what to do. “I don’t want you to do anything. Last thing I need right now is someone judging me or trying to fix this.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, trying to keep your voice level as you got your request out.

“just— just be with me.”

He paused briefly, clearly searching for a response. "Tch, yeah…I can do that.”

He shuffled a bit, pulling his hands out of his pockets and crossing towards you. A sigh of relief left you as you realized he wouldn’t judge you. He didn’t try and spew fake comfort, instead, he shoved you to make room on the bed. Reaching for your laptop, he settled in next to you and scrolled through YouTube.

After a few hours of watching dumb reactions and video essays, you melted into his side. At some point, you felt his rough hand lightly rubbing your arm. Sleep was creeping over you as your eyes burned from the bright screen. Picking up your phone, you registered that it was almost 11 pm. Katsuki would’ve normally been asleep hours ago.

“It’s past your bedtime old man” you joked as you shoved the time in his face.

“I’m not the one starting to snore, dumbass” he nudged your side with no real bite to his words.

“Rude!” you chuckled and weakly shoved him back in retaliation. Settling back into his side, sleep was finally winning. Before drifting off, you whispered almost inaudibly,

“Thanks ‘Tsuki”

you began lightly snoring before he responded, his head dipping to softly kiss your head.

“G'night, y/n”

hope y’all enjoyed this! pls leave any feedback, this is my first time writing anything like this and I’d love to improve ♥

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 15: OUR LAST DAY

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 14 | MASTERLIST | CH 16

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: ANGST, fluff if u squint, language, mentions of anxiety wc: ~8.3k song inspo: Breaking Point x Leon Thomas 💌: click the links for surprise comedic relief via camille

“I’m not talking about Aaron,” you choked out, raw and heavy. “I’m talking about you.”

Your words hung in the air like an oud perfume – intense, heavy, and impossible to ignore. Trent stared at you through parted lips like he wanted to say something, but your accusation left him speechless. His hands that were once steady on your shoulders, dropped at his sides limply. His disbelief twisted into a congealed mess of emotion filled with hurt, anger, and confusion. 

“Me?” Trent finally managed in a jarring voice. “How the fuck is this my fault?”

The venom in his voice fueled your fire. You laughed as tears tracked down your face. “Yeah, your fault. None of this would’ve happened if I just ignored you that day. No Rêveur, no assistants, no Aaron. No Trent.”

Trent’s jaw tightened when you said his name. He took a small step back with his hands clenching and unclenching as if he was physically trying to hold himself together. “You’re blaming me? Are you actually fucking blaming me for him–”

“Yes!” you screamed with words ripping from your throat to wound him. Your voice echoed in the room and slashed through the last of whatever fragile thread was holding you two together, or at least it felt that way. “I have a target on my back because of you! Everyone wants to see me fail because I loved someone like you. You don’t fucking get it!”

“What the fuck?” His voice cracked rawly. “You think I don’t get it? Y/N...everyday I wake up knowing people are watching me, judging every fucking thing I do. And I’m just supposed to smile through it and pretend it doesn’t bother me.”

You shook your head and crossed your arms to shield yourself from his words with your body language. “You chose that Trent. You want to be in the football spotlight. You live for this and I just want to fucking exist! And now my entire life is in ashes because of you.”

Trent tilted his head in disbelief, scoffing. “You think I live for this? You think I live under public scrutiny for fun? I didn’t ask for this and I didn’t ask for people to drag you into it either.”

“But you still have it!” you yelled back in a fit of rage and anguish. “You still have football. You still have your career and your family. I don’t have anything because its all fucking gone. I literally have nothing Trent…”

Trent’s lips parted again but no words ever came because you didn’t stop. “Do you know what it feels like to pour yourself into something and watch it burn to the ground because someone out there wanted to hurt me so bad, that they destroyed what I worked for? Think about what that does to a person.”

“I get it Y/N,” he countered in a pleading voice. “I know it’s breaking you. I know I –”

“Just shut up,” you interrupted. “Don’t make this about how much you think you ‘know me’. You don’t know shit right now. You don’t know what it feels like to have your entire world smashed to pieces in one night. You don’t know what it's like to look at the person you love and feel nothing but resentment.”

Trent flinched at the last word. “You resent me?” he said in a quiet, but heavily weighted tone.

“Yeah” you snapped, spilling out the word before you could stop it. “I do.”

You saw Trent’s eyes water and the hurt pooling in his gaze almost made you stop.

Almost.

“You’re out of your fucking mind” Trent yelled back, emotions finally clawing at the surface. “All I’ve ever done is love and protect you. I tried to make your life better and you’re acting like being with me ruined you.”

“It has!” you screamed, every word building more distance between you. “I let you into my life and look what happened.”

“I can’t believe you're saying this. You don’t mean it.”

“I mean it.” you stated in a trembling voice. “I wish I never got on the train. I wish I never met you. Because then I wouldn’t be standing here feeling like this.”

“Fuck this” Trent muttered as he walked away from you. He swiped his hand across the coffee table in frustration. The glass that was sitting there shattered against the hardwood floor.

You froze, but then glanced back with a bitter laugh that carried more pain than humour. “See? You’re being dramatic because that’s all you know how to do when shit doesn’t go your way. Grow the fuck up Trent.”

“Hey,” Camille stepped in, speaking softly to cut through the chaos. “Let’s go upstairs and breathe. We don’t need to do this right now, okay?” Camille looped her arm around yours, guiding you toward the stairs as your sobs echoed through the stairway. You heard Jude’s muffled voice below trying to calm Trent down.

“Give her some time,” Jude said quietly, not registering in Trent’s ears.

“She hates me.” Trent’s voice cracked as he ran a hand over his hair. Now that you were gone, his tears were streaming freely and he didn’t care to stop them. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Jude placed his hand on Trent’s shoulder. “You need to let her cool off. Both of you need to.”

Trent nodded numbly, trying to push back his emotions. “I can’t even sleep well if she’s not near me. I can’t lose her. I need her.”

Jude exhaled and shifted his weight to lean on the couch. “I’m not gonna lie and act like I know what you’re feeling. But you can’t meltdown mate. She’s hurt. You gotta ride it out.”

Trent wiped at his face with his jaw still clenched. “We’re supposed to be on a plane tomorrow. I doubt she even wants to be in a different country alone with me right now.”

Jude ran his hand over his face, trying to think of the right words. “Nah, don’t go. You both need space right now. If you push it, you’ll make things worse.”

“I don’t want space” Trent snapped in a frustrated, pained voice. “I want to fix it but I didn’t fucking do anything to her.”

Jude tilted his head. “You love her, right?” 

Trent nodded with a cracked voice. “Yeah. Y/N is the love of my life.”

“Then let her feel what she’s feeling.” Jude stated firmly. “She’s not thinking straight and you aren’t either. She’ll come around but not if you keep smashing shit.”

Trent’s eyes watered again as he glanced at the stairs. “What if she doesn’t come around?”

Jude sighed and stepped closer to pull Trent into a brotherly hug. Trent stiffened at first, but eventually leaned into it. “Listen..Y/N loves you. That doesn’t just go away overnight, no matter how shit it feels. But you gotta be real about it too. If she does want space…”

“Fuck off” Trent said hoarsely. “Don’t even say it.”

“I’m not saying it’ll happen” Jude clarified, pulling back from the hug but kept his hand on Trent’s shoulder. “But if it does, it’s not because she doesn’t love you. She’s devastated bro. Everything she built is gone and that’s heavy.”

Trent dragged his hand down his face with his palms pressing into his bloodshot eyes to push the tears back. “I don’t get it Jude. All I’ve ever done is love her, protect her, and be there for her. Yet she’s looking at me like I’m the enemy.”

Jude leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. He could tell Trent needed to get things off his chest, so he listened thoughtfully. Trent paced back and forth, his fists clenching and unclenching.. “She said all that shit like she’s been waiting for something to happen so she could blame me. How do I fix something when I didn’t even fucking do anything wrong?”

Trent’s voice cracked with his last word and he stopped pacing. His shoulders sagged as he looked up the stairway again, like he was expecting you to come back down and pull yourself into his arms. But you never did, which made the silence on the lower floor of the house much more deafening. 

Jude pushed himself off the wall with a sigh. “Mate.. she’s not aiming at you on purpose. She’s hurting. You can see it in her eyes.”

“I’m hurting too” Trent shot back rawly. “I love her and she’s tearing me apart like I’m nothing to her. A whole year and this is what I get in return. Everything is fucked.” 

Trent’s gaze dropped to the watch on his wrist. The gleam of his midnight blue face caught in the light and his lip quivered as he shook his head. “You know, she gave me this watch tonight and I told her it was the best gift I’ve ever gotten. I lied.”

Jude glanced up from the shards of glass he was sweeping into a dustpan, his brows arched in confusion. “You lied? What?”

Trent’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He started at the watch longer before finally speaking in a softer, quieter tone filled with emotion pumping straight from the heart. “The best gift is her. I don’t know why the universe thought I deserved her but she’s my everything.”

He paused to look at Jude whose expression was subtly neutral while still sweeping up the shattered glass. Trent’s voice cracked when he forced himself to go on. “I’ve got no fucking clue how I did it without her before mate. Can’t even imagine what life looks like without her.”

Jude stopped sweeping for a bit to face Trent. He didn’t say anything, letting Trent get it all out. He’d never seen Trent respond this way to any of his previous girlfriends, which really put things into perspective for just how serious Trent was about you.

“I’ve started learning her quirks, y’know? I know how hot she likes the water in the shower...the exact line before she starts complaining it’s too cold. And I know how pissed she gets when she’s got the hiccups. It’s funny...she tries to hold her breath and it never works but I love that about her. I want to learn them all.. forever.”

Trent smiled nostalgically, remembering all the good times you had. “I love her but it’s scary feeling like this. I’ve never loved someone so much that it hurts. But it’s worth it for her. Every second of it.”

“Yeah, mate..you’re in deep because I’ve never felt that way about anybody.” Jude joked, trying to lighten the mood as he swept up the remaining shards on the floor. “Just give it time. Y/N will come around.”

–

Upstairs, Camille sat in a chair across from you while you sat on the edge of the bed. Her face looked like a mosaic through the muddled blur of your heartbreak. Your chest felt hollow, like someone scooped out your insides and left you shivering in your skin. Somehow, the air felt suffocatingly warm, but your body still trembled like it was frostbitten. It didn’t make sense, but sense didn’t really matter anymore now that your entire life had turned to dust. 

“I can’t do this anymore” you finally croaked, your voice cracking as the words dragged themselves out of you. Your words didn’t even feel like they belonged to you; they just felt like noise echoing in a room.

Camille leaned forward, curling her manicured nails over her knee. There was no teasing spark in her eye, or any sharp quip on her tongue this time. Her voice was soft and uncharacteristically patient. “Y/N, babe...talk to me.”

You shook your head and bit back a sob that was on the verge of tearing free, but the movement made the tears spill faster, dripping onto your lap. “What the fuck is my life?” you mumbled, barely able to get the words. “I’m honestly done with it all. This is all so fucking stupid. I’m done.”

“You’re not done” Camille said softly, more like a fact than reassurance. “Maybe just done for now. There’s a difference.”

“Camille, stop.” You wailed, gripping the edge of the bed so tight that the muscles in your hand were starting to cramp. “I’m serious. I’m tired of everything going to shit just when I find happiness again. Why can’t I be happy for once? I’m done trying to keep it together when all things ever do is fall apart.”

Camille leaned forward with a sigh. “That’s not true. Minor setbacks bring great comebacks. You’ve kept things together before. You–”

“No I haven’t” you screamed, making your throat feel raw. “I’m holding on by a thread most of the time, pretending like I have it all under control. And look where that got me. My store is gone. My reputation is trashed. And literally everyone who was supposed to have my back fucked me over.”

You could feel Camille’s eyes on you heavily, but you didn’t look up. She knew you didn’t mean any harm by your statement, so she let it slide in your vulnerable state. You didn’t want to see any of her pity. You didn’t want to see anything.

“I didn’t even want assistants,” you muttered quietly. “I only hired them because you and Trent kept saying I couldn’t do it on my own. But I fucking could’ve if both of you just let me.”

Camille’s voice was calm, but confidently not backing down. “Y/N, no. You can’t do everything alone. No one can.”

“Then maybe I just shouldn’t do anything at all” you bit back, feeling a rush of heat rise in your chest. “I don’t really want to try anymore. I’m good on that.”

Camille exhaled, tilting her head slightly while choosing her next words very carefully. “You cannot let Aaron get to you like this. That’s exactly what he wants.”

“I keep blaming him. Trent..not Aaron,” you admitted, though your mind was still a twisted mess from experiencing every emotion possible tonight. “It’s like my brain won’t let it go. I keep thinking about it and how it all circles back to Trent. I know it’s not fair to him but I can’t stop.”

Camille brushed a tear from your face as you sniffled. “It’s not his fault Y/N.”

“I know that!” you snapped, more to yourself than her. Your fingers twisted with the sheets that were now bunched up from your grip. “He’s the closest thing to my heart. Even when it feels like someone’s ripped my chest open, he’s still there. That just makes it worse because he’s safe to be mad at…”

Camille nodded slowly. “Y/N, girl no. You can’t lash out at someone you love like that. I support women’s rights and wrongs but...you were wrong as hell for what you said down there.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I feel like a terrible person. Even in my head..I keep thinking things I don’t mean. I keep telling myself I hate him.”

“You don’t hate Trent. Be serious.”

“I know I don’t” you said quickly, tears streaming down your face again. “But it feels real when I say it. Like maybe if I say it enough, I’ll believe it. And if I believe it..maybe I won’t feel what I’m feeling right now. I’ll be free.”

“It won’t because it’s not about him,” Camille pointed out gently. “Let’s just get through tonight without saying anything else we don’t mean, okay? Do you want to come back to my place?”

You stood up on shaky legs while shaking your head. “No. I just want to sleep.”

It was a lie. You weren’t sure if you would be able to fall asleep after something like this, and even if you did, you didn’t want sleep to find you. What you really wanted was to be alone so you could stop feeling suffocated by everyone trying to save you. You weren’t really sure if you wanted to be saved this time around. You didn’t wait for Camille’s reply and headed toward the bathroom. When the door shut behind you, a deep breath escaped your lips as you walked toward the shower. You absentmindedly toyed with the T necklace resting against your skin while setting the water to the only temperature you could stand – anything less would be too cold. 

Steam hung around the edges of the mirror, eclipsing the room in a foggy haze as you stepped under the scalding water. The drops hit your skin like tiny sparks but you didn’t flinch – if anything, you welcomed the heat. You scrubbed at your arms, then your legs, then your arms again, like you could erase the mess of emotions crawling under your skin. Each movement was mindless and automatic like a loop stuck on repeat.

You didn’t know what you were trying to wash away exactly. Maybe it was the grief sitting on your chest like a boulder, or maybe it was the unease that kept picking at you and telling you it was Trent’s fault. It also could’ve been the anger that ate at you for allowing yourself to trust someone else with your business. 

Maybe it was all of it.

Your hands moved faster, scrubbing harder as you gazed at the pristine white tiles. Soap turned to foam, sliding down your arms in rivulets and swirling into the drain below. You were washing so roughly that the cloth started to feel like it was biting at you, leaving a dull sting as it mixed with the hot water. Although the pain was like a sharp little buzz on your skin, it was the first thing you felt since your night of love turned into a night of terror. You stood still and let the water rinse over you, watching as the foam and your thoughts swirled together before going down the drain. You leaned your head against the shower wall with your eyes squeezed shut as your heart pumped loudly in your ears. Every knock on the door from earlier replayed like cruel, endless torture in your mind. 

By the time you got out of the shower, you still didn’t feel clean. The ache was still there and spreading out like smoke. You faced the fogged up mirror and stared back at the hollow reflection of yourself warped by steam and tears. You wished the person you were staring at wasn’t you. You wished it was someone stronger, someone who wouldn’t let a broken dream or a betrayal rip them apart. Your fingers grazed the T necklace dangling against your skin again. You gripped the charm between your fingers, hoping it would hold you together in some way, but instead it just felt irritating against your raw, over-exfoliated skin. 

When you made your way back to the bedroom, Camille was perched on the edge of the bed scrolling through her phone like it was an ordinary night, but she looked up the second she felt your presence. You rummaged through a drawer to pull out a pair of pajamas and tossed a second pair at her, nearly hitting her in the face.

“I’m guessing you're not leaving tonight?” you asked sarcastically in a dry tone as you slipped on your own set.

Camille grabbed the pajamas in her hand with a sigh and shook them out while giving you a look. “Absolutely not. You’re stuck with me tonight.” 

You looked up at her because you were going to make another sarcastic comment, but her expression made you stop. Camille stared down at the fabric in her hands, smoothing it over on her legs unnecessarily.

“Camille??” you asked cautiously.

Her voice cracked and she pressed her lips together like she was trying to stop herself from crying.

“I called you five times and you didn’t answer. When I heard about the fire...I thought you were there. I thought you were gone.”

You froze mid motion with your top half on, half off. “Camille no..don’t say that.”

She sniffed and blinked a few times before looking back at you. “It’s fine. You’re fine, you’re alive and that’s all that matters. We’ll figure the rest out later. Don’t worry about me. Let’s just relax for a bit.”

You pulled her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her shoulders as the two of you swayed back and forth, sniffling.

“I can’t die yet.” you joked lightly. “Beyoncé hasn’t released Act III yet. I’m not missing that.” It was meant to be a joke, but you were dead serious, regardless of how sad you felt.

–

Later that night, you laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling while trying to fall asleep. The room was quiet and mostly dark with the exception of Camille’s suppressed laughter from scrolling through TikTok on her dimly lit phone.

“Maybe all of this is a sign” you blurted out, breaking through the silence.

Camille paused mid scroll with her finger hovering above the screen. She turned her head to look at you, squinting in the dim light. “Huh? A sign of what, exactly?”

“That maybe I’m not meant to have nice things” you spoke softly. “Maybe some of life’s moments are only ever meant to be fleeting for me.”

Camille set her phone down and gave you her full attention. “Uh, what? Explain…”

You swallowed and blinked up at the ceiling. “Love Notes was literally burning down while I was celebrating. Laughing. Living it up with Trent.” You shook your head and blew out your breath with a heavy sigh. “Every time I think things are finally going to be okay, the universe takes it back. Every. Fucking. Time.”

“Y/N…” Camille’s voice was soft in a reassuring way, like she wanted you to stop torturing yourself with your thoughts. 

“It’s so ironic but it makes sense” you continued while ignoring her. “I met Trent on the train, but then he disappeared just as quickly as he got there. Then at the café, he left too. You pulled me away from him in Paris. And on our first date, we burned the fucking soufflé. I’ve never even tasted it until tonight. And then Rêveur…”

You laughed but it lacked any humoristic tone. “Clearly this world loves to torture me.”

Camille sat up, adjusting the blankets around her. “Y/N.. life is never just a straight line where everything works out. Those are not ‘signs’, it’s just life. It’s just a long day.”

You turned your head to look at her, creasing your brows together. “Or maybe I’m just not meant to have dessert.” Camille stared at you but then her lips parted like she couldn’t believe what you were saying. She leaned over and flicked you in the head.

“Ow!” you exclaimed while sitting up.

“Don’t start,” she said with sass and love. “You deserve everything. The starter, soup, bread, main course, and dessert. Maybe even a cheese board.”

You smiled softly, but the corners of your lips hardly turned upward. “I wish I could believe that.”

“I’ll believe it for both of us then” Camille replied smoothly, laying back down next to you. “Mariah Carey didn’t let Nick Cannon and a few bad notes ruin her. She only defrosts once a year and makes millions off of one song.”

“Okay. Well..I’m not Mariah Carey so what’s your point?” you asked, snorting lightly.

“My point is…” Camille started, rubbing her hand gently over your arm. “You’re allowed to feel like shit right now, but don’t forget who you are or how far you’ve come. You deserve to be happy regardless.” She looked at you carefully, trying to decide if she should mention something that could help you, but she hesitated before finally saying it. “And maybe...therapy wouldn’t be a bad idea?” she suggested, biting her lip to gauge how you would react.

“Nope” you shook your head, pulling the blanket up to cover the rest of your body, as if shielding yourself from her suggestion. “I’m too self aware for therapy. I know how to analyze situations already – they can’t help me. What could they possibly tell me that I haven’t already thought of myself?” 

Camille dramatically sighed and propped her hand up on her chin while staring at you like you were a 500 piece puzzle she was tired of solving. “That is complete and utter bullshit” she said, rolling her eyes for emphasis. “Self aware, my ass. That’s just a lie people tell themselves to avoid being vulnerable. You’re not above therapy.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, clutching your blanket tighter. “It’s not a lie.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Camille countered, sitting up fully now. “You have ALL the answers but you’re here talking about you don’t serve nice things? Be fucking for real. That’s not self awareness, and it’s definitely way more than anxiety.”

You frowned but you didn’t respond, so Camille continued with her fed up, but loving rant. “Therapy isn’t for telling you everything you already know. It’s about learning how to process those feelings so it doesn’t feel like the end of the world for you when you have a rainy day.”

“It’s crushing you and you need help unpacking it” she added.

You stared blankly at the ceiling as her words filled the spaces in your head. So what? Maybe she did have a point. The lump in your throat made it hard to pretend she didn't, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to it yet.

“Um.. maybe one day.”

Camille grinned and shook your body softly like she had just won a small victory over your hesitancy. “I’ll take that. That’s better than never.”

Before you could deflect the conversation to something else, there was a knock on the bedroom door. The knock made you flinch and you felt your heart kick against your ribs. It was a sound that was too sharp for your sensitive ears, instantly dragging you back to knocks that shattered your world earlier. You tightened your grip on your blanket, sliding further into the only thing that felt like a safety net.

“Camille?” Trent’s voice came softly through the wood. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Camille shifted her eyes from you to the door, noticing your sudden change in body language. “It’s fine. It’s just Trent.”

You gave her a tiny nod but your muscles were still tense. When Camille reached the door she paused to look back at you. “Do me a favor” she said lightly. “Ignore the next five minutes. Pretend I’m out here telling him off or something. I’ll be back, okay?”

You didn’t reply and instead stared into space with your teeth clenched from the sudden flashback. Camille slipped through the gap of the door, shutting it gently behind her to meet Trent in the hallway.

“Don’t knock again" she whispered sharply. “She’s a bit jumpy. I don’t think she’s in the mood for any more surprises tonight.”

Trent nodded quickly and held up a small bottle of lavender essential oil. His eyes were still bloodshot and he looked exhaustedly disheveled. “Can you put this in the diffuser?” he asked in a cracked voice. “She likes it. It helps her relax.”

Camille took the bottle, eyeing it with a curious glance before tucking it into her palm. “Are you okay?” she asked in a softened tone while crossing her arms.

Trent shrugged and looked over Camille’s shoulder, eyeing at the closed door like it would open if he willed it enough. “Seen better days," he said in a quiet voice, “How is she doing?” Trent was worried about you, but he was also afraid of what Camille’s answer would be.

Camille tilted her head, pursing her lips like his question was the dumbest one she ever heard. “She’s not great but you already knew that..”

Trent winced and dragged his hands across his face. “I don’t know what to do. I feel like I could’ve stopped it. I should’ve told her to fire the assistants after Ziggy told me about the texts, but I didn’t. Maybe she’s right about it being my fault.”

“Well…first off, she’s stubborn. So that wouldn’t work. You couldn’t have stopped it.” Camille could sense Trent’s thoughts probably weren’t too far off from the way you were feeling, so she bargained with him. 

“Don’t blame yourself. That’s not going to help her. Just give her some space tonight.”

Trent nodded reluctantly, his jaw tight. “Just let me know if she needs anything. You’ll tell me, right?”

“Obviously” Camille said, rolling her eyes more out of habit than actual annoyance. “Just go. Let her breathe Trent.”

He hesitated before finally stepping back. “Thank you for being here with her” he murmured, glancing back at the door one more time.

“Never leaving her side.”

When Camille stepped back in the room, she immediately noticed you knocked out and curled underneath your blanket. Your face looked a lot more peaceful in your sleep compared to how you looked earlier.

“Thank god,” she muttered under her breath as she tiptoed to the diffuser, twisting the cap off and adding a few drops of lavender essential oil, which instantly diffused a calming mist of scent throughout the room. Camille’s eyes flickered over to the area where the gifts Trent bought for your anniversary were still stacked and mostly untouched. She walked over to them, carefully gathering tissue paper that fell on the floor and tucked it neatly into one of the gift bags. Eventually, her curiosity got the best of her and she couldn’t help but be nosy. There were tons of gifts, she had to take a gander.

Camille sighed and crouched down, reaching for one of the bags. There was an orange Hermès box that held a cashmere wool throw blanket inside. She raised her brow, brushing her fingers over the corner that featured the iconic ‘H’.

“Okayyy Trent” she whispered, smiling. “Not too bad. I see you.”

Camille noticed a book tucked on the bottom of the pile that featured lettering embossed across the cover – Essence of Us: First Spritz. She raised a brow curiously and leaned against the wall as she opened the book. The pages of the book were heavier than usual and had a satin gloss look to them; a testament to the small details Trent paid attention to when it came to you.

The cover page featured a note: 

This is the story of us. Happy anniversary baby.

“What a fucking sap…” Camille mouthed to herself, rolling her eyes as she turned to a random photo on one of the pages.

It was a shot after one of Trent’s games: the two of you were standing just off the pitch, not paying attention to the camera at all because you were both mid laugh. Trent’s hands were on the curve of your back while yours lightly tugged at his shirt. In the background, Ibou was photobombing by sticking his tongue out and making a face. Underneath the picture, Trent wrote: 

Scent: grass, sweat, victory, and you.

“Oh my god, he’s so corny for this,” she muttered under her breath. “Y/N will love this.”

Another pic showed you on Christmas morning. You and Trent were sitting in front of the warm glow of a Christmas tree, wearing matching pajamas that he very clearly didn’t agree to wear based on his vexed expression. You were grinning ear to ear, holding mistletoe up above you while leaning in for a kiss.

Scent: fir trees, cinnamon, and the frosty bite of air that hits different when you’re next to the person who’ll keep you warm.

Camille flipped a few pages and stopped on a photo of you and Trent at Les Notes d’Amour. You were holding the very first bottle of Rêveur, beaming at the camera with a bright smile. Trent wasn’t looking at the camera at all – he was looking at you. 

Scent: bergamot, lavender, and a dream come true with you.

When Camille flipped to another part of the book, she paused. The picture was very obviously post-sex, and featured you and Trent both smirking with your eyes half lidded. You were pressed up against him, loosely wrapped in a blanket to cover your naked body.

Scent: skin on skin, pheromones, and the kind of love you only find at 3am.

Camille continued to flip through pages, smiling. Each picture captured a memory that was candid and full of love. At the end of the book, she saw a handwritten message jotted on the final page:

This year with you has been nothing short of amazing. I don’t have the right words to explain it because nothing feels like it’s enough to hold what I feel for you. I thought I had my life mapped out until I met you.

I know I annoy you, but you’ve never made me feel like I had to be anybody else but myself. You see a side of me no one else sees, and there’s no one else I’d want to share this life with.

Thank you for loving me. These are just the first few pages of our story baby. I can’t wait to see what the next chapters hold.

Forever yours,

T

Camille stared at the page for a minute before closing the book to put it back where it was originally.

“That man’s got it real bad for you babe” she said softly, glancing at your sleeping face as she settled into the chaise lounge near the bed. “Like really bad.”

After a couple of hours, you woke up randomly in the still of the night. You blinked a few times at the shadows dancing on the ceiling from the window. It was still too dark to tell how long you were sleeping. You turned your head to the side and saw Camille curled up on the chaise lounge in the bedroom, one leg dangling over the side. Jude was stretched out on the floor near your side of the bed, using your bunched up anniversary dress as a pillow with his arms squared under his face; the makeshift setup not bothering him in the slightest. Trent was on the opposite side of the floor with his body slouched uncomfortably against an ottoman pouf, like he was keeping watch. 

“There’s three other bedrooms in this house but nooo, let’s all come in here and suffocate just for the vibes.” You scoffed quietly, scrunching your face in annoyance. 

You sat up slowly, carefully trying to not make any noise. The last thing you needed was for one of them to wake up and start hovering over you like you were a toddler. You pulled the covers off your legs and stood up. You tried to maneuver around Jude’s vertically blessed frame, but your foot got awkwardly caught between his arm and the free space next to his head.

You wobbled slightly, wincing as he shifted.

“You know chippy chips....” Jude muffled against the bunched up fabric of your dress he was using as a pillow. Your hand flew to your mouth to stop from laughing. 

He’s so chronically online even in his sleep..

You rolled your eyes and carefully pulled your foot free, stepping over him with the same finesse as someone sneaking out after a one night stand. You walked over to a drawer and blindly pulled out an oversized hoodie to slip it on, disappearing down the stairs and into the living room to grab Trent’s car keys off the coffee table. You didn’t take anything else – just his keys, yourself, and a swirling vortex of thoughts too heavy for one human to hold. 

When you got in the car, you had no idea where you were going. You just knew you needed to get away and hear your own thoughts for once. You drove and drove until you found yourself on the same street where Les Notes d’Amour once stood. You slowed the car down as you took a melancholic glance at what was left beyond the caution tape. It was nothing but a charred skeleton now. Although the fire happened mere hours ago, someone had already taken it upon themselves to place their own graffiti artwork on a half burned exterior wall of the building. You wanted to cry but you didn’t have any more tears left to give to the insurmountable pain you felt. You drove off, shaking your head as you pressed your foot against the accelerator, trying to get away as quickly as possible. 

Eventually, you blanked out and kept driving in the same mechanical form you used when you were in the shower – like your body was on autopilot; your thoughts somewhere else on a dead-end realm you couldn’t save yourself from. 

Before you knew it, you were driving down the familiar streets of your childhood neighbourhood, rolling up to the park you always went to with the twins. A faint radiant glow of sunlight could be seen peeking over the horizon near the practice field. You stepped out of the car, crossing your arms to warm yourself from the chill of the late spring, early summer air. You walked over to the practice field, sitting just off to the side where you always sat with Ezzie. You took a shaky deep breath, staring blankly at the sun as you waited for it to fully rise. In an alternate reality, you would be waking up to head to the airport right now, just a few hours away from soaking up the same sun that felt like it was taunting you now. 

For everyone else, it was another day. But to you, it was a neverending nightmare. Your fingers found the sharp blades of grass, which had been coated with droplets of morning dew. The dampness of the grass was relaxing in a way – it allowed you to focus on a physical sensation while collecting your thoughts. 

You loved Trent, you really did – but meeting him caused nothing but chaos. Chaos in the outside world and on the inside of your world. You were tired of wondering what would come next, tired of the way your emotions would be on top of the world one minute and crashing down the next. You were also tired of being in your parents’ good grace’s just because you were dating another successful man. Maybe love wasn’t supposed to be like this. Maybe it wasn’t serendipity. Maybe he was only ever meant to be a lesson for something else.  

After a while, your mind wandered to your siblings and how they were both taking on uncharted waters so young. You knew your parents would try and milk both of their situations for all it was worth, and the thought of it disgusted you. You pulled a patch of grass from the root, staring at the damp earth while thinking about what kind of pressure would be placed on Ziggy if you stayed with Trent. He’d be under constant microscope, especially if he ended up on first team like he wanted to be. Your mind shifted to Ezzie and how difficult navigating the modelling world could be for someone her age. You didn’t want your sister to end up snorting lines on a billionaire’s yacht, or even worse – in Dubai. Maybe your dream was gone and burned to the ground, but that didn’t mean they had to have the same fate as you. Not if you had anything to do with it.

If I can’t protect myself while I’m with Trent, how am I supposed to do it with the twins?

The sun had risen higher now, rays poking through a scattering of clouds in the sky. In the distance, you could hear birds chirping and the growing hums from more cars entering the roadway. The necklace around your neck didn’t feel like it was a part of you anymore. It felt scratchy, irritating – annoying. You didn’t even bother to unclasp it and yanked it from your neck instead. For some reason, you really wanted to throw it across the field, but that didn’t seem fair for something so meaningful and expensive, so you tucked it into your hoodie pocket instead. 

Unbeknownst to you, Trent had woken up, sensing your absence. He really wasn’t lying about not being able to sleep well if you weren’t around him. He groggily looked up at the bed, noticing the wrinkled sheets were now empty. He scoured the house up and down before waking up Camille and Jude in a panicked state.

“She’s gone. I can’t find her.”

“Call her phone?” Jude suggested, looking under the bed as if you were somehow under there.

“She left it here” Trent answered quickly, twisting his neck to stretch the muscle strain from his uncomfortable sleeping position. “She took my car, mate. I don’t know where she would go at the crack of dawn.”

“You don’t think she tried to –” Jude started, but Camille shut it down quickly.

“No. Shut the fuck up Jude” she snarled. “Trent, check your car’s location.”

Trent looked at Camille with a confused expression. “What? How do I–”

“Just give me your damn phone” she said, holding her hand out impatiently. “How are you so technologically challenged in your 20s?”

Trent quickly unlocked his phone and handed it to Camille, sensing her annoyance. She thought he would at least have some sort of app for remote start, keyless entry, theft alarm – anything she could use to track you down. But he didn’t, which annoyed her even more as her worry increased.

Camille wanted to say something smart about his lack of precaution, but then she remembered he was a man who didn’t have to worry about getting kidnapped while starting his car. She rolled her eyes, trying to think of where you would take off to. Trent thought for a second before grabbing his phone back and dialing a number. He didn’t want to call, but he knew one of them would know exactly where you were. He rang Ezzie first, knowing she was the most sensible out of the two, but she didn’t answer. Ezzie was not one to miss out on her beauty sleep and likely had her phone on DND the minute the sun set the night before. Trent took a deep breath and phoned Ziggy next, who answered immediately in the flush of the morning.

“Yeah?” he answered sleepily. “It’s early as fuck. What’s up?”

Trent hesitated for a minute before explaining the situation to Ziggy. He spared him the details of who did it, knowing your brother would crash out and make the situation a whole lot worse than it already was. 

“Nahhh, no shot. It’s gone? How??” Ziggy asked in disbelief. 

“Police haven’t confirmed anything yet” Trent lied, shielding your brother from the anger Trent was feeling himself. “Do you know where she could be? She took off in my car without her phone.”

“Check the park bro.” he answered matter of factly. “I’ll come with you.”

“Nah” Trent countered, already grabbing your phone and walking out the door with Camille and Jude. “Stay where you are. I’ll handle it.”

All three of them piled into Camille’s car, Trent in the passenger seat, and Jude in the back, hanging on for dear life as Camille weaved in and out of traffic to get to the park as quickly as possible. Trent peered out the window the closer they got to the familiar roads, and he spotted his car immediately. He hopped out the door before Camille could shift the gear into park, jogging over to the open field.

You felt that same magnetic tension you always felt when Trent was nearby – like right before lightning strikes. Except this time, it was going to.

“Y/N!” he yelled out into the open air, not noticing you nestled off to the side of the field.

“Fuck.” you whispered under your breath, toying with the broken necklace in your hoodie pocket. The sun was fully out now, making you squint from its intense brightness, but you couldn’t look away. You were frozen, not from fear, but from knowing a decision you were about to make was walking closer to you.

He’ll be fine without me. He’s done it before just fine. 

You weren’t originally planning on breaking up with him, but the longer you sat there and thought about things, the more it made sense for you. You wouldn’t be distracted anymore, you wouldn’t have to be under a constant public lens, you could help the twins navigate things and fade into the back like a forgotten memory. In your mind, it felt like ending things with him could help you heal. It may have not been fair to Trent, but it wasn’t just about him anymore. You felt like you needed to protect every part of you that felt like it’d been exposed unfairly. 

If that meant self sabotaging the only real romance you ever experienced in life and locking your heart back up, then so be it. 

Trent slowed his pace as he approached you, his footsteps crunching against the grass.

“Y/N.” His voice cracked, but you refused to look at him. You stayed rooted to the spot you were sitting in, loose blades of grass you shredded apart with your fingers blew softly against your palm.

“Baby,” he began in a trembling voice. “Talk to me.”

You stood up abruptly, dusting your hands on your hoodie. “I need to say something before you make it a lot harder for me.”

“What?” Trent asked, furrowing his brow. His hand reached out like he needed to touch you – just like he always did, but your body didn’t respond back to him.

You sniffled, biting down on your lip hard enough that you could taste something metallic on your tongue. “I love you. I really do love you..and I don’t want you to ever forget that. I’ll never forget the way you made me feel…but..”

“What are you doing…” he asked in an unsteady voice. His hand dropped to his side and he shifted closer, trying to piece together whatever you were saying. “Y/N, why are you talking like that?”

“I can’t be with you Trent” you said finally, feeling a burning lump in your throat. The minute you said the words it felt like something essential had been ripped from your heart. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to keep yourself together.

“No. Baby..don’t do this” he pleaded, grabbing your hand to pull you closer to him. He was willing you to feel something from his close connection, but the numbness came back – you felt nothing. “Please don’t do this to me. I love you.” Trent pleaded again. You stayed in his grasp, but you couldn't look him in the eyes. You were scared you would take it all back if you did.

“I love you too,” you admitted quietly, “but I can’t do this with you right now.” Your voice cracked and you bit down on the sob threatening to escape.

From the car, Camille and Jude watched the scene unfold in silence. Their heads were tilted and squinting toward the field.

“It’s painful being this nosy” Jude broke the silence, lowering the window to get a better view. “I wanna know what they’re talking about so bad.”

Camille leaned her elbow on the driver's window, scanning your body language. “She’s breaking up with him” she said flatly, sass gone. “I can’t believe it. She’s actually mad.”

Jude shook his head as he watched Trent lean forward to kiss you. “Nah. They’re still on. I’ve never kissed anyone like that after a breakup.” Jude was casual, like he saw this movie before and knew the ending.

Maybe he did know the ending, but this wasn’t it.

Camille squinted harder and gestured toward you pulling back from Trent after the kiss. Your body language was a lot more closed off than it usually was with Trent, and she was reading into it like an expert. She watched as Trent handed you your phone, and then you started fumbling with something in your hoodie pocket. She couldn’t tell what it was from where she was sitting, but she reaffirmed her suspicions to Jude. “She one hundred percent ended it.”

Back on the field, you placed Trent’s car keys and the T charm necklace tangled around them into Trent’s palm. His palm closed around the cool metal, but his eyes were fixed on you – desperately searching your eyes. You could see tears well up in his eyes, which made you glance at the ground.

“You’re serious?” he asked. “That’s it? After everything?”

“I’m sorry…” you croaked with your tears spilling down your face as you stumbled back, turning away from him.

When you reached Camille’s car, you opened the door and sat in the passenger seat as the tears continued to stream from your face uncontrollably.

Camille didn’t say anything, but looked in the back seat towards Jude and gave him an ‘I told you so’ look.

“Can you take me home?” you wavered in a quiet tone. “To my apartment, I mean.”

“Yeah, of course babe.”

Behind you, Jude stepped out of the car, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked toward Trent. “Damn…” he muttered under his breath. “Thought for sure they were end game.”

Jude wasn’t wrong in his assumption. Trent was your person, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else besides him. But you also felt like you needed to take time for yourself to heal, and that wasn’t something he could help with, even though you knew he’d try if you gave him the chance.

Regardless, if the pull between the two of you was as strong as it felt, it wouldn’t be gone forever.

Just postponed.

thank you for reading!!

song inspo:

[simari]

Juliana's Fresh Start

As Alessandra stepped into Juliana's new apartment, the calm vibes radiating through the air immediately struck her. The soft afternoon light filtered in through the windows, illuminating the boxes scattered around the living room.

“Jules, I’m here!” Alessandra called out, her voice echoing slightly in the empty space. “Hey girl! Can you take over real quick? I gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back!” Juliana’s voice floated from the other room. “Sure thing!” Alessandra replied, diving into the nearest box. She began pulling out kitchen utensils, decorative items, and framed photos, setting them aside as she worked.

A few moments later, Juliana returned, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Seriously, thank you for helping me. Lately, I've been so exhausted. “No problem at all!” Alessandra said, smiling as they arranged the living room together. “It’s looking great in here already.” Juliana sighed, her smile fading a bit. “I’ve been struggling, Sandra. I’m exhausted from work, and Francesco is acting like an asshole. We went to court to discuss the girls, and the judge granted me full custody. It’s quite sad because I’d thought Francesco would want to be part of their lives, but I was wrong.” Alessandra paused, looking up at her friend with concern. “I’m so sorry, Jules. You or the girls don’t deserve this. If there’s anything I can do to help, please ask. I can always babysit if you need some time away.” Juliana’s face lit up, a giant smile breaking through her sadness. “I always say this, but it’s true; You’re more than a friend; You're family.” They exchanged smiles, feeling accomplished as they admired their progress in the living room. “It looks amazing, Jules,” Alessandra declared.

Exhausted, Juliana grabbed her phone. “Let’s order some pizza because I don’t feel like cooking.” As they enjoyed their pizza while watching some reality TV, Alessandra noticed someone was missing from their little gathering. “Have you spoken to Viv?”

Juliana bit her lip, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her expression. “No, I haven’t. She’s been busy with Gabriel. They’ve been spending so much time together. But I understand that—she’s about to be a married woman.” Alessandra felt a pang of guilt, knowing Vivienne was unaware of Juliana’s ongoing divorce process. “I know. Speaking of, Vivienne wants to go dress shopping when I get back from my trip, so just be prepared for that.” Juliana took a deep breath. “I will.” As the sky darkened, Alessandra stood up. “I should head out and pack for my trip with Enzo.” Juliana walked her to the front door, then paused. “Before you go, here.” She handed Alessandra a key. “What’s this for?” Alessandra asked, puzzled.

Juliana smiled softly. “In case you ever want to come over when I’m not around. My home is your home. Thank you for helping me today. I love you, Sandra.” Tears glistened in her eyes. Alessandra pulled her friend into a big hug. “I love you too. Just remember, you are a strong woman, and you will get through this. This is just a new chapter in your story. You have my number, so if you need me, please call.” Juliana pulled away, and Alessandra stepped out into the cool evening air, feeling sad, but Juliana and her daughters won't have to face this alone.