#room so I couldn’t hurt myself trying to break everything

[arkaiveofurown]

he was harsh to you

Pairings: Crocodile x Reader, Ace x Reader, Law x Reader, Mihawk x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000 - 2,000 words each

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff

my masterlist here ♡

----

Crocodile

The tension between you and Crocodile had been building for days. He had been aloof, and his sharp, biting remarks were starting to wear on you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle his bluntness—hell, you were used to it by now—but today, it felt different. It felt personal.

You had just come from a successful mission for the Cross Guild, but the celebration was overshadowed by Crocodile’s attitude. You were standing near the map room, reviewing your next move, when he stormed in with that familiar scowl on his face.

“Don’t you have something better to do than stand around wasting time?” Crocodile snapped, his tone cold and dismissive. “I don’t need a babysitter. Get your act together.”

You felt your blood boil at his words. “Excuse me?” you shot back, unable to hide the irritation in your voice. “I’m doing my job just fine, thank you very much. Maybe you should stop trying to belittle everyone around you.”

Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening as he stepped closer. “Belittle? I’m trying to get through to you. You’re so damn distracted, it’s pathetic. You’re wasting your potential.”

“Wasting my potential?” You clenched your fists, holding back the sting of his words. “How about you stop trying to micromanage everyone around here? I’m getting things done, but you just don’t want to see it, do you?”

“Getting things done?” Crocodile scoffed, walking over to the table and slamming his hand on the map. “You’re dragging your feet. We’ve got a Guild to build, and you’re too busy pretending everything’s fine. If you think this is going anywhere, you’re living in a fantasy.”

His words stung more than you cared to admit. “I’m not pretending anything. I’m doing exactly what needs to be done. But if you think I’m just here to be your damn soldier, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Crocodile’s eyes flashed with something darker. “Soldier? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re part of the team—if you can manage to act like it. But from what I’m seeing, you’re more of a liability than an asset.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, the anger bubbling up in your throat. “A liability? I’ve been working harder than anyone on this ship, and you can’t even see it. Maybe it’s easier for you to blame everyone else for your own failures.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping low. “What failure? I’m not the one who’s failing here. It’s you, with all your whining, trying to act like this is a charity. This is a Guild, not a damn playground.”

You could feel the heat rising in your face, but you stood your ground. “You’re impossible. You always think you’re right and that the world revolves around you. Maybe you need to take a long look in the mirror and realize that you’re the one who’s out of line.”

Crocodile didn’t flinch. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You either get in line or get out of my way.”

That was the breaking point. You took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to lash out. “I’m done with this,” you said, your voice shaking with frustration. Without another word, you turned and stormed out of the room, the slam of the door echoing in your wake.

----

The silence in the ship’s quarters felt suffocating. Crocodile’s harsh words echoed in your mind, replaying over and over, and the weight of the argument was crushing. You hadn’t expected it to escalate like that, but there was no denying it now—you were hurt, and you couldn’t pretend otherwise.

You hadn’t bothered to leave your room, locked in your thoughts, lying on the bed with your back to the door. The sting of Crocodile’s words felt like a constant pressure on your chest. You’d been part of the Cross Guild for so long, fought alongside the others, but why did it feel like Crocodile just saw you as a tool? A tool that he could discard when it suited him.

You hated the feeling of weakness that crept in with the tears you’d been trying to hold back. But when it all became too much, they finally fell. Quietly at first, then in desperate, broken sobs.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to cry until you did.

Hours passed, and you thought you’d hear the sounds of Crocodile’s usual cold demeanor at your door. But it never came. No knock, no footsteps—nothing.

You sat up from your bed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Crocodile might not have said anything more, but his absence was almost worse. It felt like he didn’t care enough to even check if you were okay.

----

The next day, things were still quiet between you and Crocodile. He wasn’t avoiding you, but he wasn’t making any overt moves either. The silence felt heavy, like there was more left unsaid, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to approach him first.

It wasn’t until you were sitting alone in the ship’s main hall, watching the crew go about their usual duties, that you saw him again. He was standing near the door, scanning the room as though he was looking for something—or someone. His gaze fell on you, and for a moment, you thought about getting up and leaving.

But then, something unexpected happened.

He walked toward you, his steps deliberate, his usual air of command unmistakable. But there was no arrogance, no cold indifference. Instead, there was something almost… hesitant, as though he was unsure how to approach.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice lower than usual. Not demanding, but more… tentative.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Crocodile sat down beside you, but there was a clear distance between you two. Still, he didn’t break the silence. Instead, his eyes flickered to the floor and back to you, unsure of how to even start.

“I’ve been thinking,” Crocodile began, his voice unusually soft. “I don’t do ‘soft’ well. I never have. I push people away because it’s easier than getting close. But with you… I shouldn’t have done that.”

You stayed quiet, listening. This wasn’t the Crocodile you were used to, and it threw you off. But you could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I treated you like you were disposable. Like I could just push you aside because I don’t know how to handle emotions,” he continued, his words laced with the rare honesty he usually kept buried. “I’m not saying I can change overnight, but I… I can try. I can do better. For you.”

For a moment, the room felt too quiet, too heavy with the weight of his confession. You weren’t sure what to say, but you couldn’t deny the effort he was showing. It wasn’t just words. It was him trying—genuinely trying—to be someone better for you.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he added, his gaze meeting yours directly. “But if you’ll let me, I want to show you that I’m not just some heartless bastard.”

You exhaled slowly, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. Crocodile wasn’t the type to offer grand gestures, but this... this was different.

He shifted in his seat, as if he was fighting the urge to stand up and walk away. His usual confidence was tempered by something more vulnerable, and it made the tension between you two feel palpable. Still, there was something unspoken in the air, something you both knew needed to be addressed.

After a moment, Crocodile pulled something from his pocket, a small, worn notebook. He placed it between you two with a rare hesitance, as though it was heavier than it appeared.

“I don’t usually carry things like this,” he started, his voice rough but not harsh. “But... I thought you might find it useful.” He tapped the notebook once. “It’s full of notes—things I’ve learned, strategies, things about our crew that could be useful. Not much, but it’s something I’ve kept for myself. Thought it might help you... since we’ve been working together.”

There was no flashy gesture, no grand promises—just this small act of vulnerability. Crocodile wasn’t one to share his notes or insights with just anyone, much less someone he had been pushing away. It was his way of showing he trusted you more than he had before.

You stared at it for a moment, processing what he’d done. It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t over-the-top, but it was honest. It was him offering something personal, a piece of his world that he didn’t usually share.

“I know I’m not great with words,” Crocodile continued, looking away, his usual guarded expression back in place. “But I can do this. I’ll show you I’m not just some cold bastard.”

You let the silence stretch between you as you reached for the notebook, running your fingers over the pages. It was simple, but it meant something—he was trying. And that was enough for now.

"Thank you," you said softly, glancing up at him. "This is... more than I expected."

His eyes flickered to yours for a moment, something unreadable in them. "It's just a start," he muttered, standing up. "I’ll keep trying. But you’ve got to meet me halfway, too."

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief. It wasn’t perfect, and there were no sweeping gestures, but this... this felt real. And that was a good place to begin.

---

Ace

The sun was setting on the horizon, casting golden hues across the ship. You and the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates were enjoying a rare moment of calm as the ship slowly drifted across the sea. The deck was lively with the crew, but you found yourself chatting with Thatch, who was always kind and welcoming.

The conversation was lighthearted, the two of you laughing over some silly story. But through the corner of your eye, you noticed Ace’s figure standing by the mast. His eyes were fixed on you and Thatch. You didn’t think much of it, assuming Ace was just being his usual quiet self. But then, you saw his expression—dark, his jaw clenched, fists tightly gripping the railing. His eyes narrowed as he watched you, and it felt like a cold gust had suddenly blown through the deck.

Before you could finish your conversation with Thatch, Ace stormed over. You barely registered his approach before he grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from Thatch.

“Hey! What the hell, Ace? What’s going on?” you said, trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

“Don’t hey me,” Ace snapped, his voice low and seething. He was angry, and it was obvious. “What the hell was that about?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confused. You looked back toward Thatch, who was watching the exchange, a slight frown on his face.

“Don’t play dumb,” Ace growled. “You’ve been all over Thatch today. Laughing, touching him, flirting like it’s some fucking game. What, am I not enough for you?”

Your heart dropped at his words. “Flirting? Ace, we were just talking. It’s nothing like that. You’re making it into something it’s not.”

“Really?” Ace scoffed, his eyes darkening. “Don’t act like I’m blind. I’ve been watching you. The way you’re acting with him, it’s obvious. You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t see it?”

You felt the heat rise in your chest. “Are you seriously accusing me of something right now? You’ve known Thatch for years, and now you’re acting like this over nothing?”

Ace’s grip tightened on your wrist, his face flushed with anger. “Nothing? You think this is nothing? You think I’m stupid? You’ve been laughing with him, leaning into him, all damn day! It’s like I’m invisible to you when he’s around!”

“Ace, calm down!” you snapped, pulling your arm from his grip. “You’re overreacting. This isn’t about Thatch! I’m not doing anything wrong!”

Ace stepped closer, his voice growing colder. “Don’t tell me to calm down. You don’t get it, do you? I’m standing here, and I’m watching you smile at him, touch him, like I don’t fucking matter. And what the hell am I supposed to think?”

You couldn’t believe it. “You’re acting insane. You know I love you, right? You’re my partner. But you can’t just jump to conclusions like this—this isn’t jealousy, this is possessiveness. It’s not fair to me.”

“I don’t give a damn what you call it,” Ace sneered, crossing his arms. “It’s not just a little joke anymore. It’s like you’re fucking ignoring me every time he shows up, and I’m tired of it.”

You clenched your fists, feeling your frustration boil over. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re the one I want. Not him, not anyone else. I’m not some fucking flirt, I don’t need your jealousy getting in the way of everything. You’re acting like a child.”

“A child?” Ace barked out a laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “Look at you. You’re so fucking perfect with everyone else. But when it comes to me, I’m the one left questioning if I even matter to you.”

“Ace, you’re being ridiculous!” you yelled, your anger flaring. “This isn’t how you should be acting. You’re pushing me away with this shit!”

“I don’t care if you think I’m ridiculous!” Ace shot back, his face turning red with fury. “I can’t fucking help it. It just hurts to see you giving attention to someone else when you’re supposed to be mine. What am I supposed to do with that? Just ignore it like you’re not doing anything wrong?”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you couldn’t even find a response. You stared at him in disbelief. The person you knew, the Ace you loved, wouldn’t talk to you like this. He wouldn’t accuse you, wouldn’t twist everything into something ugly. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief.

Ace ran a hand through his hair, his expression shifting from anger to frustration, but his tone was still harsh. “I’m just saying what I feel, alright? Maybe I should just stop caring. Maybe I should just let you do whatever the hell you want without giving a damn.”

You felt a sting in your heart at that, but you didn’t let him see it. “Fine. If that’s how you want to be, then go ahead. Push me away. Make me feel like I don’t matter. Do what you need to do.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you!” Ace snapped, his voice getting louder. “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m not enough for you! Like you don’t need me anymore!”

“Ace, stop acting like I’m the one who’s wrong here,” you said, stepping back from him. “This is about you—your insecurities. You need to figure this shit out before you start blaming me.”

“I don’t need your lectures right now,” Ace spat, his eyes wild with frustration. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m the one with a problem. You’re the one making me feel like this!”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel the tension between you two, thick as smoke. You didn’t know what to say anymore. His words hurt more than anything, and you could feel the emotional distance growing between you.

“Ace,” you began, your voice quieter now, though still edged with anger. “I’m not going to keep fighting with you like this. If you want to think that I’m the problem here, then fine. Do whatever you want. But I won’t be dragged down by your jealousy. I won’t.”

You turned to walk away, but Ace’s harsh voice stopped you. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? Don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m trying to make sense of this! Don’t pretend like you’re innocent in all of this!”

You didn’t stop. You kept walking, not giving him another glance. If he couldn’t see how much you loved him, if he couldn’t get over his own jealousy, there was nothing more you could say.

And in that moment, the distance between you and Ace felt wider than it ever had.

----

The moment Ace walked away, everything felt cold. You didn’t know how long you stood there, just staring at the spot where he had left you. Your hand was still aching from his grip, but it was the sting in your chest that hurt more. He didn’t trust you, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

You didn’t want to cry, but the tears started anyway. It wasn’t just that he’d been angry—it was the way he’d accused you, made you feel like you weren’t good enough for him. His words burned like fire in your mind, and they refused to go away. You rubbed your eyes furiously, wishing it would stop, but it didn’t.

You made your way below deck, avoiding anyone’s eyes. But even in the silence, the weight of Ace’s accusations pressed against your chest.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor interrupted your thoughts, but you didn’t look up.

“Ace…” you whispered, voice barely audible, as you heard him stand in front of you. His figure towered over you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

He stood there for a long moment before letting out a long sigh.

“I messed up.” His voice was quieter now, filled with regret.

You didn’t answer right away, the hurt still raw. He continued, as if to reassure you.

“I know I was harsh,” he said softly. “I don’t know why I reacted like that. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

You finally looked up, his face full of guilt. It wasn’t the same anger you had seen earlier, but it didn’t make it better.

“Ace, I don’t deserve that,” you said, your voice shaking. “You’ve been treating me like… like I’m the one doing something wrong. You don’t trust me.”

“I know,” Ace muttered. “I was jealous, and it made me stupid. I didn’t think. I just… acted.”

“You can’t just accuse me like that, Ace. I thought you knew me better than anyone.”

“I do,” he said quickly, kneeling in front of you. His voice cracked slightly. “I do know you. And I’m sorry. I… I don’t know why I overreacted like that. It’s just…” He paused, staring down at the floor, lost in thought. “I get scared sometimes, you know? That you’ll leave me. Or that I’m not good enough.”

His words were quieter now, as if speaking them made the weight of them hit him too.

You swallowed hard, still trying to hold yourself together. “It’s not about you not being good enough, Ace. But you made me feel like I was the problem.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I promise. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

He reached out then, carefully pulling you into a hug. His arms were warm around you, and despite everything, it felt like home.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Ace whispered against your ear. “Just... please don’t leave me.”

----

Later that evening, Ace approached you once again. He wasn’t going to let this slide with just words. This time, he was determined to show you how much you meant to him.

He found you on the deck, staring out at the sea. The sunset had painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. He hesitated for a moment, but then walked up to you, standing still for a few seconds before quietly sitting beside you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how I’ve treated you,” Ace started, his voice calm but serious. He wasn’t going to let this be a quick fix. He had to prove he was serious. “I was an idiot before.”

You didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t pull away either, so he took that as his sign to continue.

“You deserve better than me just saying ‘sorry,’” Ace continued, looking at you with those soft, apologetic eyes. “I want to show you, not just tell you.”

Without waiting for a response, Ace stood up and reached into his jacket, pulling out something small wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a beautiful hand-carved wooden pendant—one shaped like a flame, a piece of his own soul carved into it. He placed it in your hand, his palm warm against yours.

“I made this for you,” Ace explained, his voice low. “It’s not much, but it’s a reminder. Every time you look at it, I want you to remember that I’m here. I’m trying to be better. For you.”

You stared at the pendant, surprised that Ace had gone this far. He wasn’t known for his sentimental side, and seeing him take the time to make something so personal was a first.

But that wasn’t all.

Ace lowered himself to one knee, taking your hands in his, his usual cocky grin gone, replaced by something deeper. “I’m not perfect. Hell, I’m far from it. But I’m gonna fight for you, every damn day, if it means showing you that you’re mine and that I don’t take you for granted.”

His eyes held sincerity, not just for a moment but for what felt like eternity. He wasn’t asking for immediate forgiveness; he was showing you that he understood the weight of what he’d done, and he was willing to carry that burden.

“I’ll be better. I’ll prove it to you, one step at a time,” Ace added, squeezing your hands gently. “I’m not gonna run from it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You felt the weight of his words settle between you, but it was the actions—the carving, the kneeling, the rawness of his apology—that made the difference.

And in that moment, something shifted. His effort wasn’t just in the words, but in the way he had approached everything differently. The care, the vulnerability, the openness—it was something you hadn’t seen from Ace in this way before.

“Thank you,” you whispered, finally meeting his gaze.

Ace’s face softened, and he pulled you into his arms gently. “I’ll never stop showing you, okay? I’ll never stop trying.”

You could feel the warmth of his embrace, but it was different now—sincere, unwavering, and full of effort. He wasn’t perfect, but this was the Ace you had always known, the one who, when he cared, gave everything he had.

“I know you won’t,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, knowing that even in his flaws, Ace’s heart was real and his effort was exactly what you needed.

----

Law

You were in the medical bay, carefully organizing the supplies, running through the routine tasks that kept you busy and, for the moment, kept your mind off the chaos of being aboard the Polar Tang. The quiet buzz of the ship’s engine was a subtle backdrop, almost soothing, but it wasn’t long before Law entered, his heavy boots echoing in the small space.

“Are you seriously doing this now?” His voice cut through the silence like a blade.

You turned, surprised to see him standing there with his arms crossed, a frustrated look on his face. "What? I’m just getting the medical supplies organized," you said, trying to keep your tone neutral. You had been with him long enough to know when something was off, and you could feel the tension in the air.

Law didn’t even spare a glance at the supplies. Instead, his eyes were fixed on you, sharp as ever. “It’s a waste of time. Don’t you have something more important to do?”

You blinked, taken aback. “What’s wrong with organizing the medical supplies? We can’t afford to let things get disorganized—especially if someone gets hurt. You should know that.”

His lips curled into a sneer. “This again? All you ever seem to do is waste time in here. We have real problems going on, and here you are, playing nursemaid.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you tried to stay calm. “I’m not just playing nursemaid, Law. This is a crucial part of the crew’s well-being. You might not see it, but when someone gets injured, we need everything in place.”

Law snorted, walking further into the room with no regard for the way his presence weighed on you. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been the one patching up the crew for years. I don’t need some reminder of how ‘important’ this is.”

His eyes glinted with something cold, making you feel like you were the one being irrational. “And yet, every time I come in here, I see you fiddling with bandages and vials like it’s some hobby. Maybe if you spent more time actually being useful, we wouldn’t be in half the mess we’re in now.”

You felt a rush of heat flood your face, your patience wearing thin. “Useful? I’m always useful, Law! You’ve never seen me just sit around and do nothing. I’ve been with you through thick and thin. What the hell is your problem today?”

Law didn’t flinch, his gaze cold and hard. “You’ve been off lately, not getting your hands dirty, avoiding the real work. Every time I turn around, you’re in here with your head buried in paperwork or fiddling with stuff that doesn’t matter. Are you even trying to help anymore, or is this your way of slacking off?”

You felt your pulse quicken, the sharpness of his words stinging like a slap across the face. “You know what? I don’t need this right now. I’m trying to do my best, but I guess that’s never good enough for you, huh?” You crossed your arms, pushing back the feeling of betrayal that crept up your throat.

“I don’t need your excuses,” Law replied, his voice colder than before. “You know what this crew is like, and you know what’s at stake. The sooner you stop pretending like this is all a game, the better.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I’m done here.”

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, stunned. You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.

You sat alone in your room, staring at the wooden floorboards, your mind replaying the harsh words from earlier. His anger had caught you off guard, and it stung in ways you didn’t expect. You’d never seen him like that—so cold, so dismissive. What had you done wrong?

You hadn’t meant to upset him, not at all. You were only trying to help, to get through to him, but it seemed like he didn’t want to hear it. The more you thought about it, the more it hurt. Was this how he really saw you? Was everything you did so easily misinterpreted?

The tears came, slowly at first, then in a rush, spilling down your cheeks as the weight of the argument settled in. You wiped at your face, trying to push back the emotions, but it was useless. His words lingered in your chest, heavy and suffocating.

You felt small in that moment. Small and insignificant. He wasn’t the kind of man who wore his feelings openly, but you thought—no, you hoped—that maybe, just maybe, he’d let you in. Now, all you had were the fragments of a conversation that had broken everything apart.

You stood up abruptly, wiping your eyes and trying to pull yourself together. There was no point in crying, not now. But the silence in the room felt like a weight you couldn’t escape, and your heart ached in a way it never had before.

----

The next morning, the air between you and Law was thick with silence. It felt like a weight neither of you wanted to lift, but both of you knew it needed to be addressed.

You walked down the corridor of the ship, your mind replaying everything that had happened last night. His words, his cold tone, and how they made you feel—like an afterthought, like your feelings didn’t matter. You needed to shake it off, but it lingered.

As you neared the deck, you saw Law standing near the railing, staring out at the horizon. His usual composure was gone. There was something about the way he stood there—quiet, almost brooding—that made your chest tighten.

You stopped a few paces away, unsure whether you should approach or just walk by. But you didn't want this hanging over you any longer. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way toward him.

Law didn’t acknowledge you at first. His gaze remained on the horizon, but there was a noticeable shift in the air as you got closer.

“You were right to be angry last night,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. The words caught you off guard.

You blinked, surprised by his bluntness. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled slowly, his hands gripping the railing a little tighter. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was out of line. I made you feel like your feelings didn’t matter, and I… I don’t want to make you feel that way again.”

There was no excuse, no deflection. He didn’t try to rationalize it. The rawness of his admission made something in your chest loosen.

“You fucked up,” you said, voice low but steady. “It wasn’t just about the words, it’s about how it made me feel. Like I wasn’t… important to you.”

“I know,” Law replied quietly, his voice carrying more regret than you had ever heard. “And I don’t want you to feel like that, not ever. I don’t want to make excuses… but I’ve been so caught up in my own shit that I couldn’t see what I was doing to you.”

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. His words were hard to process, but there was something in them that felt different—something that wasn’t typical of Law.

He met your gaze, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the waves. “I won’t pretend I know how to do this right, but I will try. And I’ll show you through my actions, not just words.”

You hesitated, still feeling the weight of everything. “Actions? Like what?”

Law's gaze softened, and he stepped away from the railing, facing you fully. “Tonight… let’s take a break from the ship. No work. Just us. We can go somewhere quiet, somewhere we don’t have to worry about anything else. I’ll listen, I’ll be present. You deserve that, and I want to show you I can do better.”

The sincerity in his voice made you pause, the hesitation in your chest slowly melting away.

He didn’t need to explain it further; you could see the change in his expression, the way his eyes weren’t as guarded. The rawness of his apology spoke volumes, and his willingness to make an effort, to actually show you, made you feel something different—hope, maybe.

The night came, and as promised, Law took you somewhere away from the hustle of the ship. The moment felt intimate, unspoken, and just… peaceful. You didn’t have to say much; the quiet between you two now felt like understanding, not tension. No grand gestures. Just time spent together, away from the chaos, showing each other what words sometimes couldn’t express.

----

Mihawk

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale light across the castle grounds as the night stretched on. You stood near the balcony, overlooking the vast, quiet expanse of Kuraigana Island, trying to ease the tension that had been building between you and Mihawk for days. You didn’t understand it. He had always been quiet, always withdrawn, but this... this was different.

You had tried to speak to him earlier, but each time, he shut you down.

You walked up to him now, your voice breaking the silence of the night. “Mihawk,” you started softly, “we need to talk.”

Mihawk didn’t even look up from his sword. His posture was perfect, as always, but his eyes were distant. “I’m not in the mood for a conversation.”

Your stomach twisted. “You’ve been like this for days. I don’t even know what’s going on with you anymore.”

“I told you, nothing is wrong.” Mihawk’s tone was clipped, cold.

You stepped closer, frustration rising. “That’s not true. You’ve been shutting me out. You barely say anything when I’m around. It’s like you don’t even want me here.”

He sighed, setting the sword down on the stone table, the movement deliberate, almost as though he was choosing his next words with care. “I’ve been thinking.”

You crossed your arms, taking a step toward him. “About?”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze dark and contemplative. “About this whole… situation.” He gestured vaguely toward the castle, as if the whole life they led was part of the problem. “About us.”

You frowned, stepping closer still. “Us?”

He hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with where this conversation was headed, but he kept going. “I’m not the kind of person who… needs company. I don’t need someone hovering over me, asking questions all the time.”

Your chest tightened, and you could feel the sting of those words more than you cared to admit. You’d always known Mihawk was a man of few words, but hearing him say it like this hit harder than expected. “So, what? You’re saying I’m annoying?”

Mihawk’s gaze flickered briefly to your face before he looked away, uncomfortable. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean, Mihawk?” you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Because that sure as hell sounds like you’re pushing me away.”

He stood up straighter, his eyes hardening for a moment, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—something raw, something almost vulnerable. “I’m not pushing you away,” he muttered, though the words sounded like they were meant more for himself than for you. “I just… don’t know how to let people in.”

You stepped back, a sharp breath leaving your lips. His words were a dagger in your chest. “You don’t have to be perfect, Mihawk. But this… this is just too much.”

His face hardened again, the vulnerability disappearing behind that familiar, cold mask. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy.”

You recoiled, shaking your head. “It’s not sympathy, Mihawk. I’m trying to be here for you, but you won’t let me. You keep pushing me away.”

There was a long silence between you, the kind that stretched out too long, too thick to ignore. Mihawk stared at the floor, visibly struggling with something you couldn’t quite understand.

Finally, he sighed, his voice barely a whisper. “Maybe I’m better off alone.”

Your heart shattered with those words. The finality of them, the coldness, the impossibility of it, made it harder to breathe. You turned quickly, not wanting him to see the sting of his words on your face.

Without another word, you walked off, your steps heavy and purposeful.

----

You didn’t wait for him to speak. You didn’t need to. Mihawk’s words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating everything between you. “Maybe I’m better off alone.”

You walked away before the sting of his words could settle, the sharp edge of them cutting through your chest. You didn’t care that he was still standing there, staring after you.

Your feet took you to your room in the castle, but even as you closed the door behind you, the world outside seemed to close in. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at your hands, trying to push the burn behind your eyes. But it was useless. The tears came, slow at first, then faster. You pressed your palms against your face, desperate to stop them, but they kept coming.

Why? Why did he say that?

Your heart ached, and you couldn’t figure out what hurt more—the words themselves or the realization that he didn’t want you around. Mihawk. The man who had kept everyone at a distance. The one who had never once asked for anything. And you—you—had thought maybe you could be the one person to change that. But you were wrong.

----

Meanwhile, Mihawk sat in his study, his mind tangled in his own thoughts. He stared out at the night sky, trying to drown out the regret gnawing at him. What have I done?

He had never been good with people, never good with emotions. I didn’t mean it. She shouldn’t have to feel like that.

His words had come out too easily, without thinking. He had pushed you away when all you had done was show him care, patience... love.

He let out a frustrated breath, the weight of his mistake pressing harder on him. She doesn’t deserve this.

He rose from his seat, walking to the window, gripping the ledge with clenched fists. What now? He had always been alone, but the thought of you not being there, of losing what little connection he had with you, hurt more than he could admit. He wasn’t sure how to fix it. He never knew how to fix things.

She’s not going to forgive me easily, is she? He sighed, the silence in the air heavier than the night sky before him. I have to make this right... somehow.

----

The following morning, Mihawk woke with a single thought in mind. He couldn’t stand the tension, the silence between you two. The words from the night before echoed in his head, but now all he could focus on was the idea of making things right.

You were still distant, and he knew he couldn’t just speak his way out of it. He had to show you, to prove that he cared, even if he had never learned how to express it properly.

He moved to the kitchen of his castle early that morning, preparing a quiet breakfast, his hands methodical as he selected fresh ingredients from his garden. He was no stranger to cooking—having lived alone for so many years meant he’d developed the skill, even if he didn’t often share it with anyone. But this time, it wasn’t about the food. It was about showing you, in his own way, that he didn’t want to lose you.

Mihawk worked in silence, chopping vegetables and herbs, carefully preparing a dish that, though simple, was made with genuine effort. He took his time—something rare for him, but he knew it was necessary.

Once everything was ready, he set the table, the soft clink of porcelain and silverware the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

After a long moment, he took a breath, walked down the hall, and knocked on your door.

“Y/N,” Mihawk’s voice was quieter than usual, almost tentative. “I’ve made something. For you.”

You were sitting at the small desk by the window when you heard him. You turned slowly, your expression unreadable, and saw him standing there with a plate of food in his hands.

For a moment, there was silence between you, and Mihawk seemed to hesitate, unsure how to approach you. Then, finally, he stepped forward, setting the plate down on the small table beside you.

“I... I don’t know if this is what you wanted, but it’s what I could do,” Mihawk said, his voice steady but softer than usual. “I’m not good with words, but I wanted to show you I’m sorry.”

You stared at the plate for a moment, then back at him. You could see the subtle shift in his demeanor—his posture was less rigid, his expression more vulnerable than you’d ever seen before. You hadn’t expected this. He was never one to cook, and yet, here he was—offering you something he had prepared himself.

Tentatively, you reached for the fork, your fingers brushing against his as you took a bite. The taste was simple—fresh vegetables, some herbs—but it was good. Better than you expected, considering Mihawk's usual reliance on swords rather than culinary skills.

“It’s... really good,” you said softly, your gaze lifting to meet his.

Mihawk’s features softened, and for the first time, a small smile played at the corners of his lips. “I wanted to do something... something more than just apologizing. Words aren’t enough.”

You set the fork down, your hand resting on the table between you. “Mihawk,” you began, your voice barely a whisper, “I know you don’t always know how to show it. But you don’t have to shut me out. I just... I want to be here for you.”

Mihawk stood still for a moment, looking at you, taking in your words. It wasn’t easy for him to admit his feelings, but here, now, in the quiet of his castle, he finally let his guard down, even if just a little.

“I... don’t know how to do this,” he said slowly, his voice low. “But I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

You smiled, reaching out to touch his hand gently. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be honest with me. That’s all I want.”

For the first time, Mihawk let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as he sat down beside you. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes.

“I will,” Mihawk said, his voice steady now. “I will try, Y/N. I’ll try harder.”

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of a simple meal and the weight of unspoken promises, you both knew that this was just the beginning—Mihawk, for the first time, letting someone in, and you, ready to stay by his side, no matter how hard the journey ahead might be.

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 1

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: mentions of injury; Kyra is a pest and reader is grumpy

Word count: 3.5k

Masterlist

| PART 2 |

..

Y/n’s teammates said she didn’t scream when Millie Bright stepped on her tibia. Beth said she could hear the crack as Y/n’s bone broke in two. But again, Y/n didn’t scream.

Leah said Y/n didn’t cry when the medical staff took her to the infirmary when they touched her broken leg to see where it hurt.

Y/n didn’t show any emotion. It was as if she wasn’t there.

Y/n was unable to answer any of the doctors’ questions when the Arsenal staff went to check her in at Great Ormond Street Hospital. They gave Y/n’s personal information and explained what had happened during the match against Chelsea.

Y/n was now lying in a hospital bed, wearing an ugly hospital gown, as a series of different doctors tried to explain her condition to her.

“It seems like a transverse fracture, miss,” one of the doctors had told her.

“Surgical intervention will be necessary—” said another.

“At least 8 months to full recovery,”

That last voice echoed endlessly in/n’s mind and that’s when she cried for the first time.

..

Y/n’s has been at the hospital for two days now. Her operation was yesterday, and thankfully, she was able to go home, but there was one problem: Y/n had no one to go home to. She has lived on her own since moving to London years ago after she signed for Arsenal.

Y/n was sure she could look after herself. She had been injured before and had managed just fine on her own. She was very independent, self-reliant and—

“Stubborn,” Kyra told her. “You are the most stubborn person I have ever met in my entire life,” the Australian said. Standing in front of Y/n’s hospital bed with her jaw clenched.

“I am not stubborn. I have the legal system on my side, and I’m not letting you break into my house,” Y/n told Kyra, her long-time friend and teammates

Break in?” Kyra said exasperatedly, pressing her palms to her face and dragging them down in frustration. “You’re making it sound like I’m kicking you out of your own house so I can live in it alone.”

“That’s basically what’s happening,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m only moving in with you because you need someone to help you around until you are completely healed.” Kyra took a step closer to Y/n’s bed, softness on her face. “It will be just like when we have film nights, come on’.”

Y/n and Kyra had been friends since the U19 World Cup. When they met again as Arsenal’s teammates, their friendship just grew. They were always at each other’s houses and always found something fun to do after training alongside Alessia or any other girls. Y/n adored Kyra. How could she not? Kyra was sweet and funny, and yeah, sometimes a pest, but Y/n loved her anyway, she was her happiest self when Kyra was by her side. Unfortunately, Y/n wasn’t in a position to be just her usual self. She was injured and didn’t even know if she would be back on the pitch when her recovery was complete.

She was frustrated, and at the moment, Kyra was her punching bag.

“I’m not incapacitated, I can take care of myself, they gave me crutches and everything,” Y/n said, pointing to her new best friends for the rest of the year. The crutches were in the corner of the room, next to the hospital bag Leah packed for her after the team found out that Y/n would be in the hospital for a few days.

“And how will you drive? How will you do your groceries? How will you cook?” Kyra said, trying to make Y/n see the real situation they were in. She needed help, and Kyra was on a mission to be everything Y/n needed right now, even though she was being difficult about it.

“I can take a cab and order takeaway,” Y/n said persistently. “Besides, you can’t even cook! Last time Alessia tried teaching you how to make chicken pasta and you couldn’t even touch the chicken

“Okay, first of all, chicken is gross,” Kyra got up from Y/n’s bed and picked up Y/n’s bag from the floor, along with the girls’ crutches. “Second, I’ll try hard to cook us both good meals! I even bought a cookbook,” Kyra said proudly

“Oh God, you’ll poison me,” Y/n said dryly, pressing the bridge on her nose.

“I will if you don’t get out of this bed and let me take you home. The hospital needs its bed back,” Kyra handed Y/n her crutches and helped her to her feet. It wasn’t the first time the girl had stood up after the surgery, but she still wasn’t used to her new cast. She felt like a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time.

The cast looked cute, though. The Arsenal girls had come by later that day, and everyone had written well wishes on it, Vic had even draw some flowers near Y/n’s ankle. Kyra also took a lot of time drawing small doodles all over it; the Australian had said it looked sad, ugly and boring before her special touch.

With a hand on Y/n’s back, Kyra slowly urged the girl to take a step in. “Does it feel all right? Do you think we should get a smaller crutch?” She asked, hovering over Y/n.

Y/n looked at the crutches in disgust. “No, their size is fine, I just— I hate this, and I hate this cast, and—” Y/n felt her eyes well up with tears.

Frustration.

Y/n’s body was filled with frustration and pain. Her leg hurt, even though she had been given strong painkillers, and now she was a mess, crying in an ugly hospital gown. Her hair was dirty because she hadn’t had a chance to wash it since the game. Her life was completely chaos. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Y/n was used to being independent. She had moved to London after her eighteenth birthday to play for Arsenal, her first professional club. For the first time in her life, she was without her parents and family, and she genuinely thrived on it. Y/n was pretty much a free bird, she didn’t need anyone, until now.

Y/n felt Kyra coming closer, friendly arms embracing her before she could resist the physical touch. “Shh, it’s okay,” Kyra said to Y/n, trying to comfort her. “You’re in a lot of pain right now, and the situation hasn’t really sunk in for you yet, but once it does, it’ll get easier.”

Kyra was the same age as Y/n, but she was definitely the most easy-going and good-humoured of them, although right now Kyra looked older. Y/n was usually the more mature one, but at the moment she wasn’t. So, she just let her friend comfort her.

“Steph told me that she cried for a whole week when she got injured during that Matilda’s match back in May,” Kyra said.

“Is that an attempt to soothe me?” Y/n asked playfully, lips still trembling.

“I’m trying my best,” Kyra admitted. “I’m better with jokes than support-giving.”

“I think you are pretty good at both,” Y/n replied. “But it’s all right now, no more affection,” Y/n mumbled, cleaning her cheeks away from the tears and pulling away from Kyra’s embrace

Damn, Y/n really needed that hug. Maybe the whole neuroscience community was right when they said that humans needed other humans. Oxytocin released all that.

“Oh, come on, you love my affection,” Kyra teased, a glimpse of her cheeky smile showing.

“No, I don’t.” Y/n huffed.

“Stop lying to yourself.”

“Whatever.” Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. She took a deep breath and looked around the room she’d called hers for the past few days. “Can you get my things please?”

Kyra rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh, asking for my help now, are you?”

Y/n crossed her arms. “If you keep being annoying, I’ll just ask Leah to come over and take care of me.”

Kyra picked up Y/n’s belongings from the hospital’s wardrobe, it wasn’t much, but other players had been kind enough to send gifts for Y/n. “Leah’s a tough love person; you guys wouldn’t last a day living together,” Kyra warned.

Y/n sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I always am,” Kyra said under her breath, taking one last look around the room “I think I have everything,” Kyra said, shifting a load of things in her arms. “I’ve got your bag, the flowers Millie sent as an apology, Beth and Viv’s plushie, Leah’s basket, Alessia’s ballons…”

Y/n bit back a laugh. Kyra wasn’t exactly short, but with all the things she was carrying, she looked like a child drowning in oversized toys and presents.

The two girls left the hospital, and for Yn’s misery, she had to use a wheelchair. Kyra teased her all the way out of the hospital to the car.

..

After a 20-minute drive, Kyra parked her car in Y/n’s garage. It was a sunny Tuesday, and the neighbourhood was quiet. Y/n neighbours were not around at this time of the day—they were busy at work and school— which Y/n was grateful about; she didn’t want any further attention on her injury.

It was already enough having a million texts from her family every 5 minutes asking how she was, she didn’t want her neighbour to worry too. Especially Mrs. Petunia, the old lady who lived across the road. Mrs. Petunia was a sweetheart, but she started to treat Y/n as a child once she found out the girl lived ‘all alone,’ during one of their quick conversations.

When Kyra turned off the car, Y/n was already on a mission to unbuckle her seatbelt and get out of the car, but Kyra was quicker.

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Kyra said, helping Y/n to her crutches against her will. “I can’t have you falling face-flat on the pavement on my first day as your caretaker.”

“I can get out of the car on my own, Ky, thank you very much!” Y/n said grudgingly, trying to get keep her balance on the crutches, but failing miserably. “Okay, I may need your help,” Y/n admitted.

Kyra smiled as if she had won an argument. “See! That wasn’t so hard.” The other girl said, holding Y/n’s elbow, guiding her towards the front door.

Y/n didn’t answer, a forming on her face.

“Don’t start getting annoying now, we’ve barely made it to your house, we’ve got a long way to go,” Kyra said, unloading Y/n’s belongings from her car. “So just try to smile—like this.” She flashed an exaggerated grin at Y/n, showing off her pearly white teeth.

“I’m going to be annoying until this stupid bone grows back, which will take a long time, and that’s why you don’t need to move in with me,” Y/n said, still unwilling to accept the whole arrangement Kyra and the rest of the team had apparently plotted behind her back.

"Will you drop it?" Kyra asked, pulling a large teddy bear out of the car— the one with a ‘Get Better Soon’ t-shirt, courtesy of Katie and Caitlin. “It’s already been decided; I’m staying here until you are completely healed.”

“That’s the problem! Who decided it? It’s my house, it’s my life,” Y/n argued, if she wasn’t holding on to the crutches for dear life, Y/n would dramatically throw her arm into the air.

“Me and Leah decided it when you were—well, you know—catatonic,” Kyra replied, fishing a set of keys from her pocket.

“I was never catatonic! What are you going to say next? That I’m hysterical? Is this the early 20th century?” Y/n said, allowing herself to be melodramatic.

“You do look a bit crazy right now,” Kyra shot back, turning the key in the door.

Y/n wished Millie hadn’t broken her good leg, or else she’d have kicked Kyra right there. So much for five and a half years of friendship.

“Hand on, how did you get my keys?” Y/n asked when she noticed that Kyra was already unlocking the door.

“Leah took them from your locker at the stadium after you went to the hospital,” Kyra explained. “Just so you know, Leah came here yesterday to make sure the doors and windows were locked and to check if you had left the cooker on or not.”

“Leah was here? And she took my keys and gave them to you? And why would I even leave my cooker on anyway?”

“Yep. She was also kind enough to make up your guest room for me to sleep in while I stay here,” Kyra said with a grin, ignoring Y/n’s rhetorical question.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Good to know my house is not my house anymore.”

“It’s our house now,” Kyra teased as she let Y/n pass through the door first, following close behind. “We are roomies!”

“No, we are not,” Y/n muttered.

“Roomies!” Kyra repeated, more enthusiastically

Y/n tried to hold her laughter, but she failed. Kyra looked cute when she was excited. It was Y/n’s first real laugh she broke her leg on the pitch.

Maybe sharing a house with her best friend wouldn’t be so bad after all.

..

Y/n hated sharing a house with Kyra. She wasn’t sure is she could do it anymore.

“Wow, rude! I’m right here!” Kyra pouted.

“Oh, did I say that out loud?” Y/n asked, her voice dripping with false remorse.

Kyra rolled her eyes. “I’m just helping you get down the stairs. Can’t your brain tell the difference between receiving help from a gorgeous friend and feeling threatened?”

Now, it was Y/n’s turn to roll her eyes. “You are so dramatic, Kyra.”

“So are you!” Kyra replied, raising her eyebrows. “At least I got two working legs.”

“That’s low even for you,” Y/n said, elbowing Kyra in the stomach— not hard enough to hurt.

“And now you attack me, what’s next? Hit me with your crutches. Kick me…”

Kyra explained to Y/n all the ways she could hit her, given the circumstances, as they walked down the stairs. Y/n thought them but decided not to act on her deviant ideas—especially after Kyra made her popcorn like the sweetheart she was.

Y/n was stretched out on the couch, the popcorn bowl on her stomach, her bad leg propped up on a pillow in Kyra’s lap as they watched a ‘90s rom-com. Y/n couldn’t even remember the title. The plot was the same though—about a boy and a girl.

“God, I love popcorn,” Y/n said, “I could eat it all day.”

“I can see that,” Kyra smiled. “Just don’t choke on it, I don’t know how to do the Heimlich manoeuvre. Kyra picked up some popcorn and threw it playfully at Y/n’s head.

Always the pest.

Kyra’s love language was an act of disturbance.

“I still don’t know why I put you as my emergency contact,” Y/n said, eating more popcorn and watching as the couple on the screen shared their first kiss.

“Because you love me,” Kyra said smugly without taking her eyes off the screen. “There is no way that was a technical kiss; I can literally see their tongues!”

Y/n squinted at the television. “Yeah, there was definitely tongue there.” Y/n agreed.

Damn, Y/n missed being kissed like that. It had been a long time since she’d been to a club and really seen other people. It was hard to combine a social life with football season. That was probably why most footballers dated within their own circle-- an athlete understood another athlete.

Maybe Y/n should stop looking for a girlfriend in London’s busy nightlife and start looking for one on the pitch.

Y/n stared at Kyra, but the girl was too caught up in the film. Y/n shook her head, trying to get rid of the very strange thought she’d just had.

..

During the first night, Y/n cried. “Stupid fucking leg”, she said through her tears as Kyra at her feet on the bathroom floor, a worried look on her face. Y/n hated crying in front of people, but in the last few days, it had been all she could do.

Y/n had convinced Kyra that she was more than capable of having a bath by herself, she only asked Kyra to get the bath ready for her. At first Kyra didn’t agree, but Y/n was very persistent, so Kyra made her warm bath and left Y/n alone.

Big mistake.

Five minutes after Kyra had closed the bathroom door, she heard a scream. Kyra was sitting out in the hallway like a lost puppy, so It didn’t take her long to get inside the bathroom again.

Unfortunately, the scene Kyra encountered was ugly. Y/n had a white towel wrapped around her body, but she was lying on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

Kyra quickly picked Y/n up from the floor and sat her on the toilet. Checking for injuries. “What happened? Where does it hurt? Did you slip?”

Y/n just nodded through her sobs. “I should’ve had li—listened to you.”

She should, Kyra thought, but she wouldn’t say it.

Kyra didn’t want to leave Y/n alone, but she also didn’t want Y/n to feel that she had no privacy or control over her life, especially when Kyra knew Yn was private about her body.

Y/n was always the one to hide behind her lockers in the changing room when she was putting on or taking off her kit, even around their teammates, who were all more than used to seeing each other in underclothes. Kyra had asked Y/n at one of her girls’ nights why she was so shy about it. Y/n just explained that it was the way she was, and Kyra left it at that

Kyra didn’t know what to say, so she just let Y/n cry on her shoulder. She wasn’t used to seeing Y/n like that. They’d been best friends and teammates for five years now, they’d seen each other on their ups and downs, both on and off the pitch. but Kyra had never seen Y/n this frustrated and angry.

“How about we try again?” Kyra suggested, feeling her heart ache for the girl in front of her. “The water’s still warm; do you want to get in? Or we can wait till tomorrow— it’s your call.”

“I want to take a bath today,” Y/n said. “I still smell like the hospital.”

Kyra smile. “No, you don’t, you smell like buttered popcorn.”

“I don’t think that’s any better,” Y/n murmured.

“It’s not,” Kyra teased. “So, this is my plan…” she continued, saying as if she was planning a football game strategy. “—I’m going to help you into the bath, then you’re going to sit down and I’m gonna lift your leg…you’re already wearing your cast cover, that’s good.”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile, Kyra looked adorable with her furrowed browns and narrow eyes.

“That’s a good plan,” Y/n agreed. “Now help me, please.” Y/n lifted her arms so Kyra could help her off the toilet.

Kyra did so, her strong arms steadying Y/n until she was at the foot of the tub. “Close your eyes,” Y/n said, shyly

It was true she didn’t like being naked in front of people--some people were comfortable with it, but Y/n just wasn’t. It wasn’t rooted in insecurity or anything; it was just the way she was. But standing there with Kyra, Y/n realised she wasn’t as uncomfortable as she thought she'd be. But she wasn’t sure why.

Of course, they had been a friend for years, but she wouldn’t be okay if it was Alessia in the room with her right now. Kyra’s presence just felt different, but Y/n wasn’t sure why.

Maybe the painkiller was messing with the way her brain cells were wired. Which made sense because she was taking ibuprofen, naproxen and hydrocodone. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind.

Kyra held Y/n’s arm with one hand while dramatically covering her own eyes with the other. If Y/n had been paying attention, she might have noticed the way Kyra swallowed hard. “No need to tempt me,” Kyra teased.

Y/n let her towel drop to her feet, feeling secure in Kyra’s strong grip as she lowered herself into the warm bath.

As promised, Kyra carefully lifted Y/n’s injured leg, Kyra’s hand lingering on her cast for a moment too long before pulling away.

The bubbles in the bath concealed most of Y/n’s body, and the berry-like smell scent filled the bathroom. Y/n was sure her skin would be smelling of strawberries until morning.

“Are you comfortable?” Kyra asked, sitting beside the tub.

“Yes. Thank you for helping me—and sorry for all the crying I’ve been doing,” Y/n added sheepishly.

“I always knew you were a softie,” Kyra teased.

Without missing a beat, Y/n splashed water on Kyra’s face.

“Hey! I thought we were making some progress here!” Kyra pouted, glaring at the wet patch spreading across her grey sweater.

“You wish,” Y/n laughed.

..

| PART 2 |

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[shy9-29]

── just the two of us, moonstruck ☾ (l.hs)

๑ After Heeseung finally breaks off his manipulative relationship, he storms out of the house late at night without an umbrella as it’s pouring rain, then running into you. He’s never been happier after he experiences what real love is with you.

a/n: this is actually so sad but I hope you enjoy it! Heeseung’s ex goes by the name Karina | wc: 2.6k | warning: not proofread! toxic relationship, angst, manipulation, minor flirting | song: moonstruck - enhypen 🎵

—

"Break up with me?!"

Karina sneered, her voice trembling with emotion. Her gaze bore into Heeseung, her words laced with anger.

The raw intensity of her expression conveyed the depth of her pain, begging him to reconsider.

“Why are you even acting surprised? You knew this was coming.” Heeseung’s response was cold and void of any sympathy. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t expect it.”

Karina's eyes widened, frustration etched on her face as she spoke, “All I did was treat you well like the loving girlfriend I am!”

Her voice wavered with hurt, her arms crossing defensively in front of her chest.

The accusation stung, her resentment evident as she tried to convey the effort she had put into their relationship.

“Loving girlfriend? You call manipulating me, constantly gaslighting me, and never giving me space ‘loving?’” his voice rising with each word.

“You were trying too hard to be ‘loving.’ I felt suffocated and trapped.” Heeseung’s voice grew more forceful. “It was like you were constantly hovering over me, trying to control every aspect of my life. I couldn’t breathe!”

Karina's lower lip trembled, her face flushed with anger.

"Is that all I did?!" Her voice escalated in volume. "I just wanted to be close to you! Is that a crime!?"

Heeseung furrowed his brow, his frustration evident.

"It was more than that," he retorted. "You smothered me. You didn't trust me. You made me question every interaction, every decision. You controlled everything. It was like I lost myself in the relationship."

As Karina was about to speak, Heeseung interrupted, his voice firm, "We're over, Karina."

The finality in his tone left no room for negotiation, the harsh reality hitting Karina like a wave as Heeseung stormed out of her apartment.

It was pouring rain as Heeseung stepped outside without an umbrella. His shoes splashed in the puddles, his face drenched as he walked away, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, the rain a fittingly melancholic companion to his heartbreak.

Heeseung found himself drawn to the nearby river, the moon shining brightly overhead.

Lost in thought, he reached the riverbank and gazed at the water's surface, reflecting the celestial light.

The gentle lapping of the waves was soothing, but the pang of heartache was still ever-present.

It was well past midnight. The once bustling streets lay silent, the moon casting its silvery glow on the empty cobblestones.

Most of the city was asleep, except for the occasional insomniac or late-night worker.

The rain continued to shower down, creating a melancholic atmosphere as Heeseung stood there, soaking wet, his gaze fixed on the shimmering river.

The silence was broken only by the soft sounds of raindrops hitting the water's surface and the occasional distant sound of a passing car.

It was as if the world had come to a pause for Heeseung, his emotions swirling like the eddies in the river.

Heeseung took a deep, shaky breath as a rush of emotions washed over him. It was like the rain was washing away the remnants of his relationship, leaving behind only the memory of the moon's ethereal beauty and the cold, comforting presence of the night.

Heeseung couldn't help but dwell on the moments leading up to the breakup, replaying the harsh words exchanged. The words he'd said to Karina haunted him, but deep down, he knew they were true. He needed space, freedom, a chance to rediscover himself without the stifling grip of a controlling partner.

As the rain continued to fall, Heeseung ran a hand through his wet hair, his gaze still fixed on the shimmering water. It was then that he noticed you standing silently behind him, quietly holding an umbrella over his head.

"You’re going to get sick if you keep standing in the rain, sir," you remarked, offering a friendly reminder to the man drenched in the pouring rain. Concern etched on your face, you chuckled lightly at the scene before you.

Heeseung startled, quickly turning around to see you standing there. A mixture of surprise and relief crossed his features as he recognized your kind gesture.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I got lost in thought..." he admitted sheepishly.

He took in your appearance for a moment, taking notice of your kind expression. There was something comforting about having someone show genuine concern.

Your concern grew as you stepped closer, shielding both of you from the rain with your umbrella. "Are you lost?" you inquired softly, your gaze filled with genuine concern.

Heeseung shook his head in response, his eyes meeting yours.

"No, not lost...just trying to clear my head," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

His drenched hair clung to his forehead as he ran a hand through it again, trying to regain his composure.

With you standing close, Heeseung felt a strange sense of comfort, despite the circumstances. The umbrella provided a welcome shelter and the act of sharing it with a stranger was oddly comforting.

His mind was still swirling with the events leading up to this moment, but the presence of someone caring enough to stand in the rain with him made his heart feel a little less heavy.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked as the words slipped from your lips. The tilt of your head indicated your genuine interest, an invitation to share what burdened him.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering with contemplation. The weight of everything he'd been through felt raw and vulnerable.

"It's just...my relationship. It ended tonight," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with the lingering pain of the breakup.

You nodded understandingly, your heart going out to him.

"Breakups are tough," you responded, your voice soft and compassionate. "But sometimes, they lead us to better things."

You could see the heaviness in his expression, the way his shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of his heartache.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" you asked with a hint of concern.

Heeseung shook his head, his gaze remaining fixed on the water.

"No, not really. I don't really feel like going back to my apartment right now."

There was a trace of sadness in his voice, as if he knew he should go back, but the thought of being alone in his empty, silence-filled home didn't appeal to him at all.

You studied his face for a moment, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, and the rain running down his face. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that tugged at your heartstrings.

"Would you like to come to mine? Just for the night," you suddenly offered, surprising yourself as much as him.

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, clearly taken aback by your unexpected invitation. He looked at you, disbelief and a hint of gratitude etched across his face.

"Really?" he asked, his voice soft. The rain continued to fall, the sound of droplets hitting the umbrella growing louder.

You nodded, a reassuring smile on your lips.

"Yeah, really. I have a spare room at my place. You can stay there tonight. Beats being out here in the rain."

Heeseung seemed both grateful and hesitant, the weight of his emotions still heavy in his eyes.

"I...I don't want to be a bother," he muttered, clearly torn between accepting your offer and not wanting to impose on you.

You shook your head, your smile gentle and understanding.

"You won't be a bother. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it." You moved closer, the umbrella sheltering both of you from the relentless rain. "Come on, it's pouring. You're already soaked."

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, seemingly weighing the proposition. When he finally nodded, it was with a mixture of relief and appreciation.

"Okay. I'll come with you," he said, his voice still tinged with the raw remnants of the night's heartbreak.

With that, you both braved the rain, walking to your apartment. The rhythmic tapping of the rain on the umbrella accompanied your steps, the darkness surrounding you only occasionally broken by streetlights along the way.

Heeseung followed silently next to you, the weight of his emotions still heavy on his shoulders. He found comfort in your presence, though, a stranger who had shown such kindness to him in a moment of vulnerability.

"What's your name, sir?" You asked, breaking the silence with a gentle question. The rhythmic sound of your footsteps hitting the rain-soaked puddles echoed in the air.

Heeseung turned to look at you, realizing he hadn't introduced himself. He gave you a small, slightly embarrassed smile.

"Oh, right. I'm Heeseung. And just call me by my name, please. The 'sir' thing makes me feel old."

A soft laugh escaped your lips, his remark putting you at ease.

"Alright, Heeseung it is," you responded, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue comfortably.

Heeseung looked at you, curiousity in his eyes.

"And what's your name?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know the name of the person who saved him from standing in the rain.

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your heart that he cared to ask.

"I'm Yn," you introduced, the simplicity of your name contrasting with the depth of your actions.

"Yn," Heeseung repeated, the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue with a gentle lilt.

He found comfort in the way it sounded, like a soft melody that made his heart feel a little less heavy.

The rain continued to fall around you both as you reached your apartment building. Heeseung followed you into the lobby, feeling a mix of gratitude and relief at the thought of being out of the rain and surrounded by warmth.

You pulled out your keys, unlocking the door to your apartment and ushering Heeseung inside. The warmth of the apartment immediately enveloped them, offering a stark contrast to the cold, damp exterior.

Heeseung walked in, feeling the transition from the rainy atmosphere outside to the comforting shelter inside. He looked around the apartment, noticing the cozy, homey vibe, and he found himself relaxing a bit.

You gestured towards a door down the hallway. "You can hang your jacket in there." You pointed to the door next to it. "The bathroom's there. I'll get you a dry change of clean clothes that my older brother left behind. Make yourself at home, alright?"

Heeseung nodded, grateful for your hospitality.

"Thank you so much, Yn. I really appreciate this," he said heartfelt, his voice sincere.

He followed your directions, hanging up his damp jacket and taking off his shoes before heading into the bathroom.

As you headed to the bedroom to find something dry for Heeseung to wear, Heeseung entered the bathroom, the sound of the rain outside providing a calming white noise.

The warm glow from the bathroom light created a soothing atmosphere as he stepped inside. He turned on the shower and began washing the cold rain off, feeling a sense of relaxation wash over him.

He let the warm water run down his body, the sound of the shower mixing with his own thoughts.

He found himself reflecting on the events of the evening, the breakup, the rain, and your sudden presence in his life.

Heeseung stayed in the shower for a bit longer than usual, finding comfort in the warmth and solitude.

When he finally stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist, he felt refreshed and a little more calm.

Heeseung walked out of the bathroom, finding a fresh set of clothes laid out for him. He quickly changed into them, appreciating the simple gesture more than you could possibly know.

The clothes felt soft against his skin, the scent of fabric softener a comforting whiff of familiarity. Heeseung ran a hand through his damp hair and stepped out of the room, feeling a bit more at ease now.

As he re-entered the main living area, he saw you making hot tea. You glanced over your shoulder and smiled, seeing that he looked much more comfortable in the dry clothes.

"I hope those clothes fit okay," you stated, a hint of concern in your voice.

"And I made some tea. Chamomile, to help you relax," you said as you offered a teacup to him.

You urged gently, your words tinged with concern, "After you drink this, you should go to sleep. It's almost 2 AM."

The late hour and the worry in your words conveyed your genuine concern for his well-being.

Heeseung looked at you, a mix of exhaustion and gratitude in his eyes.

"You're right," he admitted, taking the teacup from you. The warmth of the cup felt pleasant against his cold hands.

"I don't think I could stay awake for much longer anyway," he said, a tired sigh escaping his lips.

Heeseung, feeling the weight of exhaustion, takes a sip of the chamomile tea you had made for him.

The warmth of the cup and the soothing fragrance of the tea comforted him, and he set it down on the table.

"Thank you," he said with gratitude, his voice sincere and heartfelt. "For everything. Letting me stay over, providing me with dry clothes... You've been incredibly kind, Yn."

You chuckled lightly, revealing the soft spot in your heart. "I guess I just have a soft spot for cute lonely souls who happen to be soaked by the rain past midnight," you teased, observing him delicately as he sipped his tea.

A hint of color rose to Heeseung's cheeks as he realized your teasing remark. He let out a small, embarrassed laugh, not used to such unexpected compliments.

"I guess that means I'm the luckiest, then," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of playfulness.

The warmth of the apartment, the comfort of the clothes you had provided, and the soothing tea in his hand made him feel at ease.

Despite the emotional turmoil of the night, there was a sense of peace settling in his heart, thanks to your compassionate presence.

His voice grew solemn, gratitude evident as he spoke, "But really—thank you, y/n. I felt something I haven’t felt from a long time, and I think you’re a really good person…" The weight of his words hung in the air, his genuine appreciation for you becoming apparent.

You felt your heart warm, a mix of emotions welling up within you.

"You don't have to thank me," you responded softly, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I'm just glad I was there to help you when you needed it."

There was a moment of silent understanding between you both, the weight of his words settling in.

The late hour, the weary exhaustion, and the vulnerability of the situation created a fragile connection, an invisible bond that seemed to grow stronger the longer you shared this quiet moment.

As the silence between you two stretched on, Heeseung broke it with a question that hinted at his growing curiosity about you.

"To be honest, I don't really want our night to end here," he confessed, his voice quiet but sincere.

"I know we just met, but I'd really like to get to know you better."

The vulnerability in his voice echoed in the room. Heeseung had been through an emotional rollercoaster of a night, and in this moment of vulnerability and weary exhaustion, he was opening up to you, a stranger who had shown him nothing but kindness.

The desire for connection, for something beyond the shared moment of late-night solace, was evident in his words.

Heeseung hoped that you wouldn't dismiss his invitation, that you would give him a chance to learn more about you.

You met his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"I'd like that, Heeseung," you responded, your voice carrying a note of warm honesty.

"I don't mind getting to know you better either."

thx for reading

[niniwritesxo]

‘tell me to stop and i will’

kang dae-ho x fem reader

part two of ‘please’

——————————————————————————

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of Dae-ho’s ragged breathing. His hands lingered at his sides, clenched into fists, as if he was trying to hold himself back. But his eyes, his eyes were locked on yours, intense and unyielding, pulling every thought from your head until all that remained was the weight of him standing so close.

“I should go,” he muttered, though he made no move to leave. His voice was low, uneven, and the way his gaze flickered to your lips betrayed every word he’d just said.

“Then go,” you replied softly, though the words felt hollow even as you said them.

He let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. “You don’t mean that.”

Your stomach twisted, and before you could respond, he took a step closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hands hovered near your waist, like he wanted to touch you but didn’t trust himself to.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was an edge to it, a challenge. “Tell me, and I will.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse thundering in your ears. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. The words wouldn’t form, trapped somewhere between your mind and your heart.

“Say it,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “If you want me to leave, just say it.”

But you couldn’t.

His hand rose slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered against your cheek, and the tenderness in the gesture made your chest ache. “You don’t want me to stop,” he said, almost to himself, like he was trying to convince himself it was okay.

Your skin burned where his hand touched, and you felt your face heat as the weight of his words settled over you. “I—” You faltered, the sound of your own voice foreign and unsteady.

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re so damn stubborn,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your jawline. “Even now, you won’t admit it.”

Your breath caught as his hand slid to the back of your neck, his touch firm but careful. The air between you felt impossibly thick, and the tension was so sharp it almost hurt.

“Dae-ho…” you started, but your voice betrayed you, shaking just enough for him to notice.

“Don’t,” he said quickly, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “Don’t say my name like that unless you want me to go insane y/n.”

You swallowed hard, the words tangling in your throat. The weight of him, his presence, his intensity, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him standing was almost too much.

“I’m not going to stop unless you tell me to,” he said again, his voice low and steady, his lips just a breath away from yours.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

And then, like a dam breaking, his lips found yours. The kiss was deep, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the shape of you, the feel of you, as though this moment was something he couldn’t let slip away.

Your hands moved without thought, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if to keep yourself grounded. The world around you faded, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything else fell away.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. “I just… I couldn’t stop myself.”

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “Don’t apologize,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find some kind of reassurance. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said quietly.

“You won’t,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “You won’t lose me, Dae-ho.”

The relief in his expression was subtle but unmistakable. And as his hand lingered at the nape of your neck, you knew that whatever came next, you weren’t letting go of each other.

[gracie-eilish]

oh my my my…

🌙💚✨🎄🥂

summary: you’ve been in love with your best friend claire’s older sister you’re whole life. but she never saw you as anything more than her little sisters awkward best friend. or so she thought… until you come home from college one semester and billie comes home from tour at the same time… and things are different.

a/n: billie is 24 in this and reader and claire are 21. billie is still billie, just add in claire with her and finneas. you and the o’connells have a close dynamic so it’s not weird for you to hang with the family while claire goes to bed or vice versa when she is at your house;) you haven’t seen billie since maybe she was 19 (touring and college kept you apart)

alsoooo i love hot older sister billie!! would you guys want like a prelude to this??

The house smelled like cinnamon and pine, the familiar warmth of the holidays wrapping around me as I lounged on the O’Connell family couch. Claire and I were sprawled out like we always were, eating snacks and laughing at cheesy Christmas movies. The glow from the tree lights reflected off the glasses of festive cocktails Maggie had let us make. It felt like old times—just Claire and me, like nothing had changed.

Except everything had changed.

We were both 21 now, adults in every sense of the word. College had shaped us into versions of ourselves we’d only dreamed of becoming as teenagers. Claire was thriving, confident and bubbly as ever, while I had finally grown into myself. I felt like the clumsy, awkward little kid who used to trail after Claire, Billie, and Finneas was long gone. I was finally… me.

But I hadn’t seen Billie in years.

She’d been busy touring, winning awards, and becoming a global icon while I was figuring out my life at school. And, if I was honest with myself, I was glad for the distance. For years, I’d been so hopelessly in love with her that it hurt. But somewhere between the late-night study sessions and messy dorm-room heartbreaks, I convinced myself I’d moved on.

Until today.

The door swung open with a flourish, the chilly December air rushing in as Billie stepped inside.

“Billie!” Claire yelled, launching herself off the couch and tackling her sister in a hug. The room filled with laughter and the sound of their excited chatter, but I stayed back, my drink clutched in my hands, watching them.

And then Billie’s eyes found mine.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

She looked the same but different—older, more mature, with that same air of effortless cool that had always made my stomach flutter. Her black hair, now long and layered, framed her face perfectly. Her jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, her light blue eyes intense and unreadable as they swept over me.

And I couldn’t help but notice the way her breath hitched for just a fraction of a second.

���Y/N?” she said, her voice lower than I remembered, like velvet.

“Hi, Billie,” I said, standing and giving her a small smile.

I could feel her gaze linger as I crossed the room to give her a polite hug. It was quick, casual—nothing out of the ordinary—but the way her hand brushed my back sent a shiver up my spine.

“You look… different,” Billie said, her voice almost hesitant as she pulled back.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a few years,” I said, tucking a strand of my short hair behind my ear. Her eyes flicked to the movement, lingering on my face for just a moment too long.

Claire pulled Billie into the kitchen, breaking the tension, and I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. She was just Claire’s sister. That’s all she was. Nothing more.

Except when she joined us in the living room, the air shifted.

We settled back into the couch, Billie now sitting next to me. The scent of her perfume—something woodsy and sweet—wrapped around me, making my head spin. She smelled… grown-up. Different from how I remembered.

Then again, everything about her felt different.

As we watched the movie, Billie kept sneaking glances at me. I could feel her eyes on me, the weight of her attention making my skin tingle. I tried to focus on the screen, but it was impossible. Every move she made, every small laugh or casual brush of her arm against mine, sent my mind spiraling.

Eventually, Claire yawned dramatically and stretched. “Alright, I’m beat,” she said, standing and heading toward the stairs. “Don’t stay up too late, you two.”

The door to her room clicked shut, and suddenly it was just Billie and me.

The silence was deafening.

I shifted on the couch, my leg brushing against hers accidentally, and the contact sent a jolt through me. “So,” I said, clearing my throat, “how’s life been? You know, with the whole being a global superstar thing.”

Billie chuckled softly, her voice low and warm. “It’s… a lot. But it’s good. I missed this, though. Being home.” Her eyes softened as she looked at me. “And seeing everyone again.”

I felt my cheeks heat under her gaze. “Yeah, it’s nice to be back,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of the movie in the background.

“You’ve really changed, Y/N,” Billie said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.

I glanced at her, my heart pounding. “Good change or bad change?”

Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Good change. Definitely good change.”

The way she looked at me then—like she was seeing me for the first time—made my breath catch. It was so different from the way she used to look at me when we were kids, when I was just Claire’s little best friend. Now, there was something else in her gaze. Something I couldn’t quite place but couldn’t ignore.

I tore my eyes away, trying to steady myself. “You’ve changed too,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Billie leaned back, studying me with an intensity that made my pulse race. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said, meeting her eyes. “But you’re still… you.”

Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she reached for the remote and turned off the movie, leaving us in silence.

The tension between us was palpable, the kind you could feel in your chest, heavy and overwhelming. For years, I’d dreamed of being this close to her, of having her attention like this. And now that it was happening, I didn’t know what to do.

“So,” Billie said after a moment, her voice soft, “are you seeing anyone?”

The question caught me off guard. “No,” I said quickly, my heart skipping a beat. “Not right now.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, something unreadable in her gaze. “Good.”

The word hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. But before I could think of anything, Billie shifted closer, her knee brushing against mine.

“You know,” she said, her voice low, “it’s weird seeing you like this. All grown up.”

I felt my cheeks flush, but I forced myself to meet her gaze. “Is that a good weird or a bad weird?” I squeaked out, basically repeating my earlier question.

Her lips curved into a slow, almost lazy smile, laughing at my obvious nerves. “Good weird,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Billie tilted her head, her dark hair falling over one shoulder as she studied me with a curious expression. “You cut your hair,” she said, gesturing toward my short hair. “You swore you’d never cut it. You would practically cry at the thought of getting your haircut even a tiny bit when you were little.”

I giggled a bit as I shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though her attention was making my pulse race. “People change.”

“Yeah,” Billie murmured, her voice soft, almost thoughtful. “You definitely have.”

Her eyes lingered on me, sharp and unrelenting, like she was trying to piece together every little detail she’d missed over the years. Finally, her gaze dropped to my ears, her lips twitching into a slight smirk.

“And the piercings?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Who are you, and what did you do with little Y/N? I never thought you’d get more than just one little stud on each ear.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound came out shakier than I intended. “I’ve been collecting them over the years. Do you not like them?”

Billie’s smile softened, her voice dropping an octave. “No, I do. They suit you.”

She leaned in slightly, her dark eyes glinting with curiosity as she inspected the small, sparkling studs and hoops lining my ears. My breath hitched as her face drew closer, her scent filling the space between us. Her fingers reached out, brushing against the shell of my ear as she tucked a strand of my hair behind it, revealing the stack of earrings.

Billie chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her expression—something far from casual. Her hand lingered near my face, her thumb grazing my jawline before retreating, almost as if she realized what she was doing.

“You’ve really grown up, Y/N,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… new. Seeing you like this.”

The air between us was thick with tension, the kind that made my chest feel tight and my heart pound so hard I was sure she could hear it. Billie’s hand moved again, this time trailing through the ends of my short hair. She toyed with a strand, her fingers grazing my neck as she twirled it absentmindedly.

“This,” she said softly, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “It looks good on you. The short hair. I didn’t think I’d like it, but… I do.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just nodded, my throat tight as her fingers lingered, her touch light but deliberate.

“I’m serious,” Billie continued, her tone shifting, becoming almost reverent. “You’re not the same little kid who used to follow Claire and me around. You’re… different now. In a good way.”

My breath hitched as her hand dropped from my hair to my shoulder, her thumb brushing against my collarbone. She was so close now, her knee pressing lightly against mine, her dark eyes locked on mine like she was searching for something.

“Billie…” I started, but my voice faltered.

She tilted her head, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Yeah?” she asked, her voice so soft it sent a shiver down my spine.

“I…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The tension between us was too much, the weight of it pressing down on me until I couldn’t think straight.

And then Billie closed the distance.

Her lips brushed against mine, soft and tentative at first, like she was testing the waters. But when I didn’t pull away—when I leaned in instead, my hands gripping the fabric of her hoodie—she kissed me fully, her lips warm and firm against mine.

The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of us in the dimly lit living room. Her hand slid up to cup my face, her fingers threading gently through the ends of my short hair as she deepened the kiss. It was slow and deliberate, like she was taking her time, savoring every moment.

When we finally pulled back, both of us were breathless, her forehead resting against mine. Neither of us said a word, the silence heavy but comfortable as her thumb brushed gently over my cheek.

“You really have grown up,” Billie whispered, her voice barely audible.

And just like that, everything between us had changed.

🌙💚✨🎄🥂

[mocchiixxx]

Words in Ruin Series # | 03 : Hong Jisoo (Joshua) 🦌

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Miscommunication, Soft Fluff

Warnings: Emotional snapping, tears, guilt spiral, comfort, healing

Summary: Joshua is always calm and composed— but even angels can break. Overwhelmed by pressure, he snaps at you for the first time. And the moment your expression falls, he realizes he’s hurt the one person he never meant to. Can his gentle heart fix what it shattered?

💌🦌💌

The clock ticked past midnight. The sound of boiling water filled the quiet kitchen as you stood in the soft glow of the under-cabinet lights. You reached for the chamomile tea bags, his favorite (not sure though), and dropped one into his favorite mug. The honey swirled slowly as you stirred it, just the way he liked.

He’d been distant lately. Not cold, just… unreachable. His texts were short, his replies slower. You knew he was exhausted, running on little sleep and a packed schedule, but your heart still ached watching him carry it all without letting you in.

You turned when you heard the door click open.

Joshua stepped in, shoulders slumped under the weight of the day, wearing that neat black button-up from the evening’s radio event. His hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes half-lidded.

“You’re still up?” he said, voice raspier than usual.

You smiled gently. “Couldn’t sleep. I figured you might want something warm.”

You held up the mug.

He didn’t move toward it.

“I’m fine,” he said, sighing as he loosened his shirt collar. “You don’t need to keep doing this.”

Your hand faltered slightly.

“I just thought— tea might help,” you said.

“I don’t need tea, Y/N,” he snapped suddenly. “I don’t need you fussing over me like I’m some fragile thing that’s going to fall apart.”

Silence.

Your hand lowered. The warmth of the mug seeped into your fingers, but your chest felt cold.

“…That’s not why I do it,” you said softly. “I do it because I care.”

Joshua rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms. “I just— God, can I breathe for one second without someone watching me? The fans, the staff, the members and now you?”

You didn’t respond right away. You placed the mug gently on the counter before stepping back.

“I'm not watching you. I’m worried about you,” you said, voice shaking slightly. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and all I’ve wanted to do is be here for you.”

Joshua exhaled sharply, clearly overwhelmed, but the moment he looked up... he froze.

You weren’t angry. You weren’t yelling back. You were hurt.

And it showed in the way your lips trembled and your eyes glossed over.

He felt like the air had been sucked from the room.

“Wait,” he said immediately, stepping forward. “Y/N, I didn’t mean— God, I didn’t mean to talk to you like that.”

You turned away slightly, trying to blink the tears back. “I know you didn’t. B-but you still did.”

He closed the distance, reaching for your hand.

“You do so much for me. And I snapped. I made your love feel like a burden, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

You were quiet.

Finally, you whispered, “Do you know how hard it is to watch the person you love tear themselves apart and not be allowed to help?”

He stared at you, heart breaking.

“I don’t try to take away your problems, Shua. I just try to remind you you’re not alone in them.”

His voice cracked. “You’ve been my peace for so long… and tonight, I ruined that.”

You looked at him. “Then why push me away?”

He hesitated, guilt radiating from every part of him. “Because if I let myself lean on you, even a little… I was scared I’d break completely.”

You gently cupped his face. “Then break. You don’t always have to be the calm one, the composed one. Not with me.”

Joshua let the tears fall then, not loudly, not with sobs but with the quiet release of someone who’d been holding everything in for far too long.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “I should have let you in sooner. I should’ve told you how much it’s all been weighing on me.”

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” you said. “I just need you to be honest with me. Even if it’s messy. Even if you’re tired. Especially then.”

He nodded, breathing you in like he was anchoring himself again.

“Can we start over?” he asked. “Right here, with the tea?”

You let out a small laugh, still teary-eyed. “It’s cold now.”

“I’ll still drink it,” he said with a soft smile, reaching for the mug. “Because you made it.”

He sipped, grimacing slightly. “Okay, yeah. It’s a little cold.”

You giggled. “I’ll make a fresh one.”

He caught your wrist gently. “Not right now. Just stay with me. Please.”

You leaned into his embrace. “Always.”

And in that kitchen, where warmth had temporarily been lost, love returned in quiet apologies and the promise of better tomorrows.

Taglist: @babycaratdeul @viacb97 @christinewithluv

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere Dr. Lee scenario <3

“My love for you is seeping into my bones like cancer. I’m obsessed with your every waking breath. My chest heaves at the idea of you ever leaving me behind to rot like the corpse of an abandoned animal. But you would never. You’re perfect. You’re the balm that soothes my burns and the morphine for when my body breaks. I hope to one day heal your wounds as deeply as you’ve done mine. I’ll start with slitting open your enemies like I used to do frogs in biology.” What? Your head is fuzzy from reading the first paragraph, but you can’t stop yourself. If you never finish reading then it will haunt you, or even hurt you, if this was to be taken seriously. 

“I want you. I’ve wanted you for myself for years. I let you have your social circle because that’s just the little butterfly you are. I know you know how obsessed I can be with you. If not, then, now you know. I’ve been in love with you for years, and every single time you bat those pretty eyes at other men, I want to kill them. I’m not going to make this hurt. This isn’t truly a punishment. I just couldn’t hold myself back anymore. I’m going to make you feel good, over and over and over until you see that I love you, little butterfly.”

You read the letter over and over again. You feel the shaking taking over as the deranged letter trembles in your hands, and your breath feels stuck in your throat. Whatthe fuck was this? Some sick love confession? And from who?! What did it even mean by punishment? You can’t bring yourself to hold onto the paper anymore, tossing it aside as you grasp at your hair. What do you do? Cops are hardly ever helpful with shit like this. Making a report should help, at least a little but- There’s a creaking sound behind you. Your thoughts pause, and your hairs stand on end. It’s an eerie silence as you hold your breath and feel the foreboding feeling behind you. Do you acknowledge it? Do you turn your head and see what made the noise? Or do you simply run away, get in the car and go? What if it’s just nothing? You shake. Deep breaths only do so much, but they’re better than completely flying off the edge. 

It’s fine. You’re just extra paranoid. This is a fucked up prank at the very least, and a crime waiting to happen at worst. You just need to get your bearings, get something to calm down, and take care of it as soon as possible. 

Turning your head reveals nothing. The same old floor, same kitchen and living room. No menacing boogeyman, no scary burglar, just your home. (Is it truly yours if rent is always there? Well, whatever, you need a way to get comfort. Delusions such as owning a home help!) 

Double checking the house isn’t a bad idea. So, you go, checking the cupboards, the cabinets, the pantry, and of course anything that looked like a grown person could be hiding. There’s still that foreboding feeling, but once you finish checking under your bed, and your closet, there’s nothing left to check.  There’s the ruffling of your blanket as you collapse. Deep breath in, slow exhale, again and again, until you feel your nerves settling.

Maybe this will be over by the time you get up in the morning to make a report. Maybe it’s a fucked up prank. You can’t really bring yourself to think past anything other than that. You tiredly drag your hands down your face, sighing out as your thoughts try to become less jumbled.

Your eyes close, and your mind finally starts to go blank. Everythings going to be ok. You’ll be ok.

Then there’s the pinprick burning in your arm, and a gloved hand over your mouth.

“So sorry, dove. I know, I know. Shh shh shh. You did good! you did so so good. Hide and seek with you is adorable! But...You know, just because I wasn’t in one hiding spot the first time, it doesn’t mean I didn’t move! Ah, but I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

There’s a flicker of light as your eyes struggle to stay open, heavy and weighted as your nails try to dig into the arm holding onto you. It’s no use. Your fight is leaving you fast and so is your consciousness, and while your heart is hammering, it’s slowing down considerably as a few tears leave your drooping eyes.

“Wanted a picture to remember this by. Just relax, my butterfly. Just relax. I’ve given you many shots haven’t I? Never did like when my nurses went to do it. Think those count as flirting? I sure do-”

There’s a pouty, disappointed hum as the intruder watches you fade into unconsciousness. “Damn. Worked quicker than I had hoped. Oh well, I need to get you home quick anyway. If I leave too late, people may notice, and it’s not an easy trail to clean.”

(-Mommabean)

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Nightvisions - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: This is part 2 to Dead of Night, Reader and Spencer face the fallout of an intense first sexual encounter, which leads to a second one.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: i’m overjoyed by the positive response to ‘dead of night’ and i’m a woman of the people so despite my lack of plan to do a part 2, i wrote one anyway, and this is it! tbh i’m not too sure how i feel about this but i had fun writing it anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: pervert!spencer, dom!spencer, angst, established relationships, confession of feelings, semi-public sex, noise control, hair pulling, spit, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), penetration, creampie, panty stealing, references to knifeplay, slight biting, hickey (kinda?) pet names (angel), fem + afab reader, happy ending

Rating: R, 18+

——

As the work day dragged on you could feel your initial shock and intrigue twist into an anger that burned in the pit of your stomach. Every glance Spencer took at you from his desk across the bullpen made your blood pressure spike, unable to properly focus on the paperwork you had been working through for the better half of the day. Your mind kept drifting, trying to rationalize his potential motives, but the more the thought stirred in your mind the less you could justify it to yourself. You had to hear it directly from him, as soon as possible.

“Spencer, can I get your input on something?” You called him over to your desk, masking the frustration in your voice. He scrambled to his feet, eager to be close to you again for the first time since this morning. He leaned over your desk, glancing at the paperwork in front of you.

“How can I help?”

You pointed to an insignificant line of text as you leaned forward, bringing your mouth inches from his ear.

“Meet me in the conference room in 5 minutes.” You whispered, watching as he gulped and nodded.

“That should be good.” He said as a cover, hoping not to draw suspicion to the two of you before returning to his desk.

You grabbed a file for show and walked to the conference room, checking that the blinds were pulled down over the windows overlooking the bullpen. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, starting to pace to keep yourself occupied as you waited for him.

Moments later there came a gentle knock at the door before Spencer slowly opened it, dipping quickly in and locking the door behind him. A short silence hung in the air until your emotions got the better of you, his soft expression causing tears to well up in your eyes.

“How? Why?” You blurted out, a mix of confusion, exhaustion, and desperation playing out in your features. He took a step toward you and you took a step back, keeping distance between you. If he touched you, you might break, shatter into a million pieces and never be put back together.

“Please just let me explain.” His tone held such strong desperation that you almost forgot how betrayed you felt. You wiped a tear from your cheek, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the wall, waiting.

“You left your profile up on your computer one night and I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, I always have.” He took a deep breath, for once careful to articulate his words as he watched your expression carefully, searching for any sign of forgiveness.

“I know it was wrong, but I never thought I’d stand a chance with a woman like you if I went about it the traditional way. I never intended on hurting you, but I clearly have, and doing so is the biggest regret of my life.” You wanted to believe him, he seemed so earnest, but the doubt was eating you alive by the second. What if it was all an act? Was the connection you felt that night built on lies?

“Was everything you said in our chats a lie just to sleep with me?” You kept a straight face, fighting back more tears to keep your composure. You couldn’t let him know how badly you were hurt, not if he didn’t mean it.

“Oh god no, angel, everything I said was the truth.” He grew more frantic, nervously stretching his fingers as he fought the urge to step toward you again. He just wanted to hold you, to comfort you in the simplest way he knew how, but he couldn’t do anything that might make you more uncomfortable.

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, still too frustrated with him at the moment to deal with your feelings for him. He nodded, keeping his mouth shut to resist the urge to ramble on and on about what he felt for you.

“I’m not sure I believe you Spencer, I just don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” Your voice cracked, biting the inside of your lip as you watched his face drop.

“You can.” He weighed the risk and took a step closer to you again, and you didn’t move away from him this time.

“How do I know that?”

“I’m in love with you.”

It was the most confident he’d been all day, his voice unwavering with every word.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” Tears threatened your waterline once more, hanging on his every movement as you tried to read him.

“I do mean it, I’ve known from the first time we spent 2 hours talking nonstop on the jet. No one has ever seen me the way that you do.” His eyes were glassy with tears and your heart began to melt, dropping your arms to your sides and finally closing the gap between you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You took his hand in yours, your thumb swiping over the veins on the back of his hand.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same.” He sighed, averting his gaze from yours.

“I do.” You confirmed, squeezing his hand. He looked at you once more, the tension between you practically suffocating.

He leaned into you, his face dangerously close to yours as he searched your eyes for any lingering apprehension, but there was none to be found. He took a leap of faith, hoping he was reading you right as his lips met yours, his hand cupping the side of your face. You melted into the kiss, allowing him to guide your mouth against his. Your skin grew hot, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as his actions grew more intense, his lips pushing almost bruisingly hard against yours.

His hands moved lower, ghosting down your sides, the slight pressure against your healing cuts from the night before making you shiver. He finally reached the hem of your skirt, slowly hiking the fabric up your thighs. You pulled your mouth away from his, panting for a moment in hopes of catching your breath once more.

“Spencer, we can’t.” You sighed, meeting his hungry gaze.

“We can if we’re careful.” He countered, pushing you gently back until your hips bumped against the large circular table in the center of the room.

“What if someone hears? If we get caught we could lose our jobs.” The rational part of your brain seemed to be dueling with your primal urges, your body betraying your mind as the thought of getting caught only made the wetness between your thighs grow more intense.

“Then you better be quiet.” He whispered, his large hands gripping your hips as he spun you around, bending you over the edge of the conference table. He dropped to his knees, pushing your skirt up the rest of the way to bunch around your hips, humming to himself as he admired your perfect ass. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them over the curve of your hips and down your legs before pocketing the lacy fabric.

You whined, wiggling your hips back to urge him on.

“Be patient.” He laughed, his voice low. You didn’t have to wait long, his head dipping between your thighs to find your waiting pussy. His strong grip kept your thighs spread as his tongue delved between your folds, quickly giving ample attention to your swollen clit. He was hungry, plush lips drinking in your arousal with every extended lap of his tongue, practically suffocating himself as his nose brushed against your weeping entrance.

You brought your hand to your mouth, biting your wrist to stifle your whimpers as you rocked back against him, indulging in the way he devoured you. He moaned against you, muffled vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, your clit growing more and more sensitive by the second. You were starting to get desperate, riding his face until the table underneath you began to squeak with every rock of your hips. Spencer suddenly pulled away, sitting back on his calves.

“Your desperation is going to get us caught.” He brought his hand between your legs, fingers massaging your clit for a split second before rearing back and slapping against it, causing you to jolt forward. You yelped, a bit louder than you intended from the shock of it, and you swallowed nervously, anticipating his next move.

He rose to his feet, his clothed hips pushing against your bare ass as he gripped your hair in his fist, firmly pulling you upright. You bit your lip to hide your moan, letting him guide your every step as he pulled you across the room, finally pressing your back against the wall.

“Spencer, please.” You sounded more pathetic than you intended but the way his mouth felt on you got you beyond worked up, and in that moment you felt like you needed him inside you more than you needed air.

“Are you going to be quiet?” He questioned, his hand resting on his belt buckle as he waited for an answer.

“Yes, I’ll be good, I promise.” You looked up at him, giving your best doe-eyed look as you began unbuttoning your blouse. He began to undo his belt, letting his pants and briefs fall to his ankles as he held out his hand in front of you.

“Spit.” He commanded, the dominant side of him coming out more with every sweet sound that left your lips. You did as you were told, spitting in his hand to provide a bit of lubricant for him to stroke his cock, fully preparing himself to enter you.

You were mesmerized, unable to look away from the way his shirt rode up his torso, toned but slender stomach flexing with each movement of his hand, his hair falling messily in his flushed face, a thin layer of sweat forming on his skin. You pulled the cups of your bra down, toying with your nipples as you enjoyed the show, feeling like you were watching the most intimate sex tape you’d ever seen.

“Are you ready?” His voice snapped you out of your trance, blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment over how desperate you were for him. You nodded frantically, draping your arms behind his neck, pulling him to you. You raised your leg, wrapping it around his waist, looking down between your chests to watch him lineup his cock with your cunt. He pushed the head in, cutting off the gasp that threatened to rip from your throat as he pulled you into another intense kiss.

He sank fully into your tight walls, the soreness you felt from the night before melting away with every stroke he laid into you. You moaned into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you allowed him to take the reins, his controlling grip digging soft bruises into the flesh of your breasts, then your hip, electricity flowing between the two of you. You pulled away from the kiss, coming up for air, so lost in the feeling that you couldn’t make out any coherent sounds, only gentle whimpers and whines.

“You feel so good.” He moaned quietly, quickening his pace, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit, the rough pad of his thumb pressing firm swipes up and down over the swollen bundle of nerves. Your whimpers grew louder, and despite your hazy state, you knew you had to quiet yourself quickly. You pulled him closer, burying your face in the side of his neck, your lips latching onto the soft skin behind his ear.

A groan rose from the back of his throat, your mouth sucking against his pressure point pulling him dangerously close to his release. You swore you were seeing stars, supernovas erupting between your thighs as you started to contract around him, your senses overwhelmed with his touch, crying out against his neck. Your knee began to buckle, your leg almost giving out if it wasn’t for his firm hold on your hip. He continued to pump in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm until you had gained a bit more of your composure, able to support yourself again despite how fucked out you felt.

Spencer felt himself falter and anchored his hips against yours, keeping himself seated within your warm walls as they coaxed him to completion. He quietly moaned your name, his head hung to observe the view of himself pulling out of you. You dropped your leg, still in a daze as you began righting your clothing. After you redid the last button of your top and yanked your skirt back down over your ass, you realized you couldn’t find your underwear.

“Looking for something?” He questioned, that familiar dorky smile plastered across his face. You turned to face him, seeing the lace dangling from his fingertip, but as you grabbed for it he pulled it out of reach.

“These are mine now.” He shoved the fabric back in his back pocket before you could attempt to steal them back again.

“Spencer, your cum is dripping down my leg, I kind of need those.” You took a stride toward him to close the gap between you, hoping to wrap your arm around his waist and take them out of his pocket. Your plan was quickly foiled as he grabbed your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“You better keep your legs closed then, I’m not giving them back.” He whispered in your ear, his tone low but hinted with mischief.

“Whatever, pervert.” You pulled out of his grip, starting to walk toward the door. Your slight annoyance with his teasing quickly faded, unable to deny that walking back out into the bullpen full of Spencer’s cum was an incredibly hot concept.

“What does that make you, then?” He laughed, running his hand through his hair to make it somewhat presentable.

“An angel, according to you.” You turned back to him momentarily to wink in his direction, giving him a comfortable resolution to your slight outburst earlier.

“Can I see you again? Outside of work, I-I mean.” He slightly stumbled over his words, his dominant demeanor fading back into his signature awkward cadence, clearly a bit flustered by your tongue-in-cheek show of affection. You almost laughed, the question feeling a bit absurd given that you’d both just confessed your feelings for one another in more ways than one.

“Take me out to dinner tonight, I’ll be ready by 6. You have my address.” You smiled, watching a blush rise over his cheeks in response to your callback before unlocking the conference room door and returning to your desk to finish out the workday, eagerly awaiting your first real date with Spencer.

——

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea @theoraekenslover @placidus

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my spencer reid taglist :)

also tagging those who requested a part 2, thank you for the inspo!: @silver138 @espressoparis @futuremrsreid @charmedkim @lilcuutiee @cryxbabyxxx @c1rcus-baby

[cece693]

Stupid Crush (Nico di Angelo x Son of Poseidon)

This was something that suddenly came to mind and I couldn't help myself :) Hope you enjoy it.

Summary: It wasn't just the fact that Nico had to reveal his crush on Percy in front of Cupid, but when your boyfriend, the twin brother of said boy, was also in attendance, Nico's life was destroyed.

tags: Nico confesses his crush on Percy, however he's dating you, reader is Percy's twin brother, things get angsty 😈

Nico’s heart pounded in his chest as Cupid’s mocking voice echoed around them, his magic coiling around Nico's soul like a noose. Jason stood on one side, his blue eyes wide with concern, while you—Percy’s twin brother and Nico’s boyfriend—were on the other. Cupid’s voice dripped with cruel amusement, cutting through the silence like a knife. "The truth, Nico di Angelo. Tell them who once held your heart."

Nico’s throat closed up, his worst nightmare unraveling before his eyes. This was the moment he had fought so hard to avoid—the truth he had buried deep within himself, even from you. But there was no escape now. Cupid’s magic tightened, pulling the confession from his lips like a venomous secret. "I…" Nico’s voice cracked, his fists trembling as he clenched them at his sides. "Percy Jackson."

The air in the room shifted. Your breath hitched, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He knew what he would see—shock, hurt, betrayal, the crumbling of the trust you'd built together. The pain he’d been dreading. "What?" Your voice came out in a cold, broken whisper.

Nico swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "It was before I met you, before Percy got with Annabeth. I thought—" He stopped, the words turning to ash in his mouth.

But you could read between the lines. Now everything made sense, how Nico easily allowed you to befriend him; you weren't special, just a boy who shared the same face as someone Nico loved. Loves. "So, let me get this straight. You're only with me because my brother didn't return your feelings? Am I just your consolation prize?"

Nico’s head snapped up, panic swelling in his chest. "No! No, it’s not like that!"

Your eyes narrowed, fury replacing the initial shock. "Really?" you spat, taking a step toward him. "Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you settled for me when you couldn’t have Percy."

Nico’s voice wavered as he pleaded, desperate to make you understand. "I didn’t settle! I chose you because I love you. That crush…it was stupid. It doesn’t mean anything anymore!"

But Cupid’s laughter echoed again, cruel and jagged like shattered glass. "Ah, but old feelings never truly die, do they, son of Hades?" The god’s voice teased, his presence hanging over them like a storm. "You can hide it, bury it, but the truth always has a way of surfacing." Nico had never wanted to strike down a god as much as he did now. "Now that the truth is out," Cupid continued, his mocking tone fading as his presence disappeared, "I'll leave you to deal with the consequences."

Silence fell, but the weight of Cupid’s words lingered like a blade pressed against Nico’s throat.

"You played me." Your voice, thick with unshed tears, barely above a whisper but laced with so much pain that it felt like a physical blow. "You say you love me, but if Percy hadn't chosen Annabeth…if he had even shown the slightest interest in you, would you still have ended up with me?"

Nico froze, the question like a dagger to his chest. He wanted to deny it, to say that nothing would have changed the way he felt about you. Perhaps your friendship did arise from some misguided crush on Percy, but as time progressed, Nico fell in love with you. You. But even then it took time for him to distance who you and Percy were, sometimes it even stunned him how much you were alike, so if Percy did magically return his feelings, would Nico fall for you? His silence seemed to confirm your suspicions as your expression hardened.

"That’s what I thought."

Jason stepped forward, trying to break the tension. "Guys, come on. Maybe we should—"

"Stay out of it!" You snapped, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. Jason took a step back, helplessly looking between you both, understanding that this was something beyond his control.

Nico reached out, desperate to grab your hand, to stop you from slipping further away, but you recoiled. "Don’t." Your voice was quiet but firm, the finality in that one word shattering the last bit of hope Nico had. "Just…don’t."

Nico could only watch as you turned away, disappearing into the shadows. Jason hesitated for a moment before following after you, leaving Nico alone in the cold, empty chamber, the weight of what he had just lost settling deep in his bones.

When the three of you returned to the Argo II, the change in atmosphere was immediate. Gone was your usual bright demeanor, replaced by hollow eyes and the kind of blank expression that spoke of barely contained pain. Nico, too, was different. His usual quiet presence had shifted into something darker—his shoulders slumped under the weight of regret, his face pale as if he were just moments away from breaking.

The others exchanged worried glances but said nothing as you silently headed toward your cabin. The slam of the door reverberated through the ship, causing everyone to flinch, even Nico, whose eyes lingered on the door as if willing it to open and for everything to go back to how it had been. But it wouldn’t.

Hazel was the first to break the silence. "What happened?" she asked, her voice soft, her gaze fixed on Nico. When he didn’t respond, avoiding her eyes, she looked to Jason, who merely shook his head, pity etched across his features. "Nico," Hazel pressed gently, her worry growing. "You can talk to us."

But Nico didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped back, letting the shadows around him rise, and within moments, he was gone—leaving the others standing in silence.

Days had passed, but to Nico, each one felt like an eternity. Every hour that dragged on without your voice, without your gaze meeting his, was a torment he hadn’t anticipated. The coldness that had settled between you was suffocating. Whenever Nico approached, even just to be in the same room, you’d find some excuse to leave. He could sense it, the way you tensed whenever he was nearby, the way you averted your gaze, as if looking at him was too painful. And that hurt more than anything—knowing he was the cause of it.

The others noticed the growing distance between you two. The worried glances exchanged over meals, the whispers behind his back. Jason and Hazel, in particular, kept trying to reach out, but Nico had shut himself off. What could he say? How could he explain the rift when the mere thought of it made his chest ache? Even Leo, who usually cracked jokes at the dinner table, had grown more subdued, as if the tension in the air had smothered his usual cheer.

Nico couldn’t bear it anymore. He had to fix this—he had to at least try. He couldn’t stand the silence, the void that had replaced the closeness they once shared. So, one night, when the Argo II drifted quietly through the sky and everyone had retreated to their cabins, Nico ventured out onto the deck. The night was cool, the stars twinkling above like distant, indifferent observers to his misery. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

You were there—alone, standing at the edge of the ship, staring out into the horizon. For a moment, Nico just watched you, his heart aching at how much he missed simply being near you. He could almost imagine everything was fine—that you were waiting for him, that you’d smile when he approached, kiss his forehead, and mention how he needed to take better care of himself.

Gathering his courage, Nico stepped forward, his footsteps soft against the deck. "Can we talk?"

You stiffened at his voice, but didn’t turn around. For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a sigh, you spoke, your voice devoid of the warmth Nico so desperately missed. "I don’t know what there is left to say."

Nico’s heart sank, but he pressed on. "Please, just let me explain."

At that, you turned to face him, and Nico saw the exhaustion in your eyes. The sleepless nights, the weight of betrayal, all of it etched into your features. "Explain what, Nico?" Your voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a coldness that made his chest tighten. "That you were in love with my brother? That you settled for me? That I wasn't your first choice? Do you think words are going to fix this?"

"No," Nico whispered, stepping closer, his voice strained with the weight of everything he wanted to say. "No, I don’t think words can fix it. But I never meant to hurt you. I—" He paused, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words. "It was a crush. A stupid, meaningless crush. I didn’t choose you because of Percy. I chose you because of you."

Your eyes flickered with something—anger, hurt, betrayal—but you didn’t waver. "Then why didn’t you deny it when I asked you? Why didn’t you just say that nothing could have changed how you felt about me? Why did you hesitate?"

Nico opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t known what to say back then, and even now, he was at a loss. How could he explain that moment of doubt without sounding like the worst kind of person?

"You see?" You shook your head, your expression hardening. "You couldn’t. You couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t just second best. But, do you know what hurts the most? It’s not just that you had feelings for Percy. It’s that a god had to force you to tell the truth. If Cupid hadn’t intervened…how long would you have strung me along? How long would I have been in the dark while you carried this secret? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I—" Nico started, his voice faltering. "I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. It was just a crush. Something stupid. And I thought I’d gotten over it, I swear." He took a step closer, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I grew a crush on Percy when we were younger—when I first came to camp. He was the hero. Brave, kind...everything I wasn’t. And I thought, maybe if I could be near him, maybe I’d feel like I belonged."

Nico’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he remembered those days, the confusion, the hope, and the loneliness that had followed. "But it wasn’t real. Not like what I feel for you. Percy was this…this idea in my head, someone I admired from afar. But you—" His voice broke, his eyes locking onto yours with desperation. "You were real. You saw me for who I am, all the broken parts, and still cared. What I feel for you isn’t some crush or fantasy. It’s love. I love you."

You shook your head, your face twisted with both anger and pain. "But how am I supposed to believe that, Nico? After everything? How do I know you aren’t still lying to yourself or to me? You say it’s love, but how do I trust that?"

Nico felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He couldn’t lose you—he couldn’t. "I’m not lying," he insisted. "I swear it. On the River Styx, on my mother, on Bianca—on everything I hold dear—I love you. I don’t care about Percy anymore. What I had for him was nothing compared to what I feel for you."

The solemn weight of Nico’s oath filled the air, the magic of the River Styx sealing his words, making them unbreakable. The sky seemed to darken for a moment, a rumble of thunder far in the distance, confirming the binding nature of his vow.

But you didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Your eyes, once filled with love, now only reflected the deep wounds left behind. "Maybe you believe that, Nico," you said softly, but the coldness in your voice made it clear that something between you had shifted, something that could never be undone. "But I can’t anymore. I can’t keep going, wondering if I’ll ever fully have your heart. Because that shadow—the one you said lingered over you—it’ll always be there, won’t it?"

Nico’s breath hitched, the weight of your words crushing him. He wanted to scream, to beg, to prove that you were wrong. That there was no shadow, no lingering doubt in his heart. But his silence, that hesitation back in Cupid’s lair, had already broken something vital between you. And now, no matter what he swore on, no matter how much he begged, you didn’t believe him anymore.

Tears pricked at Nico’s eyes as he realized that he was losing you, that you had already made up your mind. "Please…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please don’t go."

You looked at him for a long, painful moment, and Nico thought—hoped—that maybe there was still a chance. But then, you shook your head, and turned away, leaving him standing there, the solemn weight of his oath ringing hollow in the night air. Nico felt the cold wind biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness that had settled deep within him as he watched you walk away. Alone, once again.

[just1cefor4ll]

A rare kind of love

Kang Dae-ho x fem!reader

warning. I don’t really know the reason of Dae-ho’s debt so I made something up other then that no warnings

genre. hurt comfort

Shadows stretched across the floor, where the sleeping figures of players shifted in their deep slumber, the tension in the room never ceasing, not even in their sleep. But being next to Dae-ho, keeping watch for the night as everyone else slept was something that brought you a bit of comfort even in these tough circumstances. Dae-ho sat a few feet away, his elbows on his knees, eyes quietly sweeping over the restless forms. You watched him for a moment, his calm and steady presence oddly warm in a place like this. It was strange how much trust you’d built with someone you barely knew—someone you’d met under conditions that could kill you both.

“You know,” you said finally, breaking the silence, “I used to stay up late like this back at home. Not for anything important—mostly just lying in bed, stressing over things I couldn’t fix.” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Guess that habit didn’t really help me in the long run.”

“I could say the same thing about myself. The marines made me develop insomnia so I never really slept after i got back— but I guess I’ve gotten a bit better with the help of my sisters” He replied, giving you a soft smile which you returned with a hint of curiosity in your eyes. “You have sisters? How many?” “Four. All of them are older and I’m thankful to them for being who I am now.. though I can’t say everyone in my family is proud of how I turned out.” It was like his mask had faltered for a split second, his shoulders slumping and eyes looking like a disappointed child.

You didn’t push further, staying in comfortable silence, only the soft snores os players and shuffling of those who were having nightmares in their beds.

“Sorry uh—“ “[Name] [Last Name]” You cut him off with a smile but make a shh gesture with your pointer finger. “Don’t let the others know my name, only you and Jun-hee are the ones I trust to the fullest with this information.” You wink playfully before letting him go on— his face starstruck as you looked at him with a face no one has ever looked at him with. “Right, [Name]. How’d you end up in here? I mean you seem pretty smart to me so proper education is something you have no doubt.. so?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should even say it. But what was the point of holding back now? It wasn’t like secrets mattered in a place like this. “Debt.. a lot of it. Just like everyone here I made bad choices, bad timing… one thing snowballed into another. And then—” You paused, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “Well, here I am.” You smile sheepishly, but your once beaming energy did die down a bit. “I was a psychologist.. It payed very well but with my poor choices and actions I lost my job and I fell into the arms of gambling where I lost it all.”

He didn’t interrupt, letting you keep talking.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “I figured I’d win back just enough to cover everything. I thought, ‘What’s the harm in trying?’” You shook your head. “Turns out, the harm is a mountain of debt and a bunch of very angry people coming after you. Then my mom got sick, and the hospital bills started piling up. Insurance only covered so much, you know? So, I started taking out loans to keep up.” You leaned back against the rail, staring at the ceiling as the memories came rushing back

He didn’t say anything right away, just nodded slowly, his expression was sympathetic and no hint of judgment was evident either which you appreciated.

“I was out of options,” you continued, your voice softer now. “So when this… game showed up, I thought, ‘Why not? I’ve got nothing left to lose.’”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. Then, Dae-ho spoke, his voice calm but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. “It’s easy to fall into, isn’t it? Debt. Mistakes. Feels like one bad move and your whole life spirals out of control.” “Yeah,” you said, glancing over at him. “Something like that. What about you? How’d you end up in the marines is my first question.. I mean why’d your sisters let their precious brother get into the hands of such a traumatic thing? Respect to you though! I wouldn’t be able to handle it any better than you so I’m very proud of you for serving the country, soldier.” You teased, looking at him with a big smile.

He hesitated, his eyes dropping to the railing, though a slight chuckle did manage to escape his lips from your silly nickname. For a moment, you thought he might brush off the question, but then he let out a soft sigh. “My dad,” he started, his voice quiet. “He wanted a ‘real man’ for a son. Someone strong, someone tough. But I wasn’t what he wanted.” You frowned. “What do you mean?” “Like I’ve mentioned before, I grew up with four older sisters,” he said, a faint, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “They were the ones who raised me, really. Taught me how to cook, how to listen, how to be patient. I guess I turned out too… soft for my dad’s taste. He’d look at me and see failure. Said I’d never make it in the real world unless I ‘toughened up.’”

You could hear the bitterness in his voice, even though he tried to hide it.

“So he sent me to the Marines,” Dae-ho continued, his gaze distant. “Said they’d make a man out of me. And I guess they did. But they also…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “They took the parts of me that my sisters had built. Replaced them with someone who could fight. Someone who could kill. And when I got out, I didn’t even know who I was anymore. The marines take your spark.. or at least dim it with all they got.”

“What happened after that?” you asked gently.

He hesitated again, his fingers curling loosely around the railing. “When I got back my sisters were more than happy to see me but they knew I was different. It was a bit awkward at first but they got through to me and got me to go to therapy for a while but bills started piling up. I tried working—construction, private security—but the flashbacks made it impossible to hold a job."

He looked down at his hands, as if trying to remember a time they weren’t shaking. "I kept borrowing money to keep my head above water, but no matter how much I tried, it was never enough. My dad called me weak for struggling. Sisters tried to help, but I couldn’t let them. Too much pride, too much of him in me, I guess."

“I came here,” he said finally, “because it felt like the only thing left. At least here, I could do something. I could try and make my father proud.” For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “You didn’t deserve any of that,” you said quietly. He looked at you, surprised, and for a moment, the guarded expression fell away. “Maybe not,” he said softly. “But it’s done now. All I can do is try to keep moving forward, survive this place and get my life together.”

You nodded, your grip on his arm tightening slightly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.” You said and squeezed his hand, laying your head on his shoulder. “We’ll get out and open up a small shop.. we can sell whatever we can think of and buy a small house on Hyepjae beach. I’ve always wanted to visit Jeju, haven’t you?” You rambled, completely forgetting the fact how you were just mere strangers a few days ago. He nodded, putting a over your shoulders, holding you close. “I’d love that.. more then anything.”

You looked up at him, and his heart nearly stopped in the process. “For the record, I don’t think you’re weak at all. You’re one of the strongest people here, and considering what you’ve been through in your past, the fact that you’re still such a kind-hearted soul is rare in a place like this. You’re one of a kind, Kang Dae-ho.” You spoke softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before standing up to switch places with Jung-bae and Gi-hun, who were just waking up so you could get some rest.

He could only stare, his cheeks flushed as a quiet chuckle escaped him. Heading toward his own bed, which was a bit farther from yours, he suddenly paused. Kneeling down beside you, he gently brushed your hair behind your ear. “You’re one of a kind too, [Name] [Last Name],” he murmured, his voice soft but full of meaning, your name rolling naturally off his tongue. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Sleep well.”

As your eyes fluttered closed, a faint smile curved your lips. “Good night, Dae-ho.”

He lingered for just a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your peaceful expression, before whispering to himself, “How could someone like you exist?” Then, with one last glance, he quietly made his way to bed, his heart still racing.

© just1cefor4ll— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[sadnymi]

Lovefool p2

[part one] [Mattheo riddle x reader]

Summary: Being the only girl in the group, and now stuck in the middle of nowhere with them, you found myself in a tricky situation. You had to share rooms, and Mattheo, leaving no room for negotiation, insisted that you would share with him. The problem was, there was only one bed. From uncovering feelings to heartbreak, it was a night you wouldn't forget.

Warning: angst,fluff,strong language, hints of smut .

Words:5,5k + Bonus scene.

When we arrived back home, I quickly said goodbye to the boys, avoiding eye contact with all of them. I couldn't bear to see their pity or confusion. I just wanted to escape to the solitude of my room. Once inside, I shut the door and leaned against it, finally allowing myself to break down. Tears streamed down my face as I slid to the floor, clutching my knees to my chest.

There was only one week left before returning to Hogwarts, and I knew I would have to face them—most of all, Mattheo. The thought of seeing him again made my stomach churn. During that week, I waited for him to reach out, to say something, anything, that would make sense of what happened. But he didn’t. The silence from him was deafening, and it drove me insane.

All the other boys sent me messages as usual. Even Blaise, who had been so harsh, reached out, perhaps feeling guilty for his words. But not Mattheo. He ghosted me completely, and the pain was unbearable. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart would leap with hope, only to be crushed when it wasn’t him.

I spent days replaying our time together in my mind, trying to understand what went wrong. Had I misread everything? Was I just another conquest to him? The questions tormented me, and the lack of answers made it worse.

I remember that night vividly. The way he looked at me, the tenderness in his touch, the passion in his kisses—it all felt so real. But now, it seemed like a cruel illusion, a trick my heart played on me.

I tried to distract myself by throwing myself into reading, but every word I read seemed to blur into the memory of him. I’d catch myself staring at the same page for hours, lost in thoughts of his hands on my skin, his whispered words.

By the middle of the week, the weight of his absence was unbearable. I lay in bed, clutching my phone, scrolling through old messages, and torturing myself with his silence. The boys' messages were kind and casual, but they couldn't fill the void Mattheo left.

Enzo’s messages were the most frequent, always checking in on me, making sure I was okay. “Hey, how are you holding up?” he’d text, and I’d force myself to respond with a lie. “I’m fine, thanks,” I’d write back, even though I was anything but fine.

Blaise's messages were surprisingly considerate. “Sorry about the other day. Didn’t mean to upset you,” he’d said. I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with him; he had only voiced what I feared was true.

But Mattheo? Nothing. No calls, no texts, no attempts to explain or apologize. It felt like he had erased me from his life completely.

The pain was relentless, gnawing at me day and night. I felt hollow, like a shell of the person I had been before. I missed his voice, his laughter, the way he made me feel seen and cherished. I missed him so much it hurt to breathe.

The final straw came the night before we were due to return to Hogwarts. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and realized I couldn’t go on like this. I needed to confront him, to demand answers. I couldn’t start the new school year with this weight on my shoulders. I had to face him, even if it meant shattering my heart all over again.

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone, my fingers trembling as I typed out a message. “Mattheo, we need to talk. Please.” I hit send and waited, my heart pounding in my chest. Minutes felt like hours as I watched the screen, praying for a response.

But none came. The silence stretched on, suffocating me, and I knew that no matter what happened, I had to find a way to move forward. With or without him.

I boarded the train with a heavy heart, my eyes scanning the crowded platform. As soon as I found Enzo, I slid into the seat next to him, trying to muster a smile.

“Hi,” I said, glancing briefly at Mattheo, who was sitting across from us.

“Hey,” Mattheo replied, his voice neutral, his gaze avoiding mine.

Theo soon returned, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. “How have you been?” he asked.

“I’ve been okay,” I lied, forcing another smile. Before I could say more, Draco and Blaise joined us, making the compartment feel even more cramped and awkward.

“Hi,” Draco said, his voice soft, his eyes flicking between me and Mattheo. Blaise offered a similar greeting, his usual bravado toned down, as if he sensed the tension.

I tried to lose myself in my book, Emma another Jane Austen novel, hoping it would distract me from the unbearable atmosphere. But I could feel Mattheo’s eyes on me, and each glance was like a dagger to my heart. His stare was intense, and it made concentrating impossible.

“I’m going to say hi to Pansy,” I announced suddenly, grabbing my bag and book. I left the compartment quickly, not giving anyone a chance to respond.

As I walked down the corridor, I realized I couldn’t face Pansy either. She would ask questions, and I had no answers. I turned a corner, only to overhear a group of girls talking animatedly about their exploits.

“Enzo is amazing,” one girl said, giggling. “Blaise too, though he’s a bit too cocky for my taste.”

“Oh, Theo is a sweetheart,” another girl chimed in. “But Mattheo... God, he’s something else.”

My ears pricked up at his name, and I leaned closer, my heart pounding.

“What’s it like with Mattheo?” a third girl asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.

“He’s rough, but in a good way,” the first girl said, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “He barely looked at me, but I didn’t mind. It felt so good. He didn’t kiss me, though, just... did his thing and left.”

My heart pounded as I continued to listen, hiding behind the corner.

"God, I'd do anything to sleep with Mattheo again," the first girl said, her voice filled with a mix of longing and frustration. "But he doesn't sleep with the same girl twice."

"Yeah, he's got a reputation for that," another girl chimed in. "And yet, somehow, they all are so different with her you know??," she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

" Y/N right? What's so special about her anyway?" a third girl asked, her voice filled with venom.

"She's always hanging around them, like she's one of them. I can't understand how she managed to get in their group."

"I bet they all fucked her at some point," the first girl said, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Do you think they share her? She's their slut for sure."

"I know right?," another girl agreed, her laughter harsh and cruel. "I mean, how else would she keep their attention? She must be really good in bed."

"Or maybe she just does whatever they want," the third girl added. "So pathetic, really. Always trying to act like she's so special. I bet she’s just a desperate little slut."

My heart pounded as I continued to listen, hiding behind the corner.

"Yeah, spreads her legs for any of them at the drop of a hat," another girl sneered. "She's probably been passed around like a party favor."

"And they act so protective of her," the first girl said with a bitter laugh. "I can't imagine why. What do they see in her?"

"They must be playing some kind of game," the third girl suggested. "Maybe seeing who can screw her over the most."

My heart beat faster and faster, each cruel word piercing deeper. Tears blurred my vision as I stepped away from the corner, desperate to escape their venomous gossip.

The world around me seemed to blur as I walked faster, not caring where I was going, just needing to get away. I collided with a strong chest, and looking up through my tears, I saw Mattheo.

"Why are you crying? “ His voice was sharper than a knife

“Who did this to you?" He asked once more when I didn’t answer his hands gently cupped my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears.

I pulled away, my voice shaking. "I'm not talking to you," I said, the tears flowing freely. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my hand.

"Stop it. Let me go," I demanded, trying to pull free from his grip.

"Not unless I know what got you crying like that," he insisted, his eyes filled with the same loving and caring expression that had once made my heart soar.

I looked away, the pain and confusion overwhelming me. "Just go and ignore me like you have been for the past week, or whatever," I said, my voice bitter. "Pretend I don't exist. You're good at that."

His face fell, looking speechless for a moment. I didn’t wait for him to respond. I pulled away, breaking into a run until I found an empty compartment far away from everyone. I slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the seat, sobbing uncontrollably.

The cruel words of the girls echoed in my mind, mingling with the confusion and heartbreak of Mattheo's unexpected concern. Why did he have to care now, after leaving me in silence for a week?

As the train rumbled on, I curled up on the seat, hugging my knees to my chest. The weight of everything pressed down on me, and I felt utterly alone. I had no answers, only questions that seemed to multiply with each passing moment. Why had he treated me so tenderly, only to disappear? And why did it hurt so much to see that same tenderness now, when I was already so broken?

Why had Mattheo been so different with me? Cause I’m pretty sure I wasn’t imagining that night and from what I heard from those girls it seems like he’s a different person from the one they are talking about .

I had a long time trying to explain to the boys why I suddenly disappeared and never returned. They didn’t look convinced, and their probing questions made it clear they weren’t buying my excuses.

Days passed, and I tried to put some space between me and all of them. It wasn’t easy. Draco cornered me in the common room one evening, his eyes filled with concern. "Something happened," he said, his voice low and insistent. "Tell me what it is."

"I'm fine, Draco. It's just family drama," I lied, my stomach twisting with guilt.

"You’ve been skipping meals and acting different," Theo added, joining us with a frown. "This isn’t like you."

"I told you, it’s family stuff," I insisted, hating how naked I felt under their scrutiny. It was like they could see right through my facade.

"Just...let us help," Draco pleaded, but I shook my head, turning away from their worried gazes.

Over the next few days, I was in a bit of a slump. Not only did I skip meals, but I also skipped more classes than usual. If I could have, I would have skipped the whole week, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

I grabbed my bag and walked through the courtyard, I overheard a girl talking loudly to her friends. "She's such a slut," she sneered, and my steps faltered. "I bet she's been with every Slytherin boy."

I stopped, my blood boiling. I turned around and marched over to her, my fists clenched. "What did you say?"

The girl looked taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered. "I said you're a slut. Everyone knows it."

The rage bubbling inside me reached a boiling point. "You think you know me? You think you can talk about me like that? Here’s a newsflash for you: I don’t need your approval or your pathetic opinions.“

Before she could respond, a boy next to her smirked. “Yeah, I’d love to fuck you just like the whole Slytherin boys have. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

I stepped closer, my fists clenched at my sides. "Why don’t you come a bit closer and say that to my face?" I said, my voice trembling with rage.

The crowd that had gathered around us watched with wide eyes and open mouths. "What's wrong?" the girl taunted. "Truth hurts?"

“Do you think it makes you look strong, demeaning someone you don’t even know? Do you think you’re better than me because you can spread lies and gossip? You’re pathetic. You think I care about what you say? The only thing that matters is that I know the truth, and that scares you, doesn’t it? Because deep down, you know you’ll never be anything more than a coward hiding behind cruel words.”

The girl, emboldened by the attention, added, "Your family must be so proud of you. What a disgrace."

"Shut your mouth," I said, stepping closer, my eyes burning with anger. "I don’t care what you think of me, but if you ever talk about my family again, you’ll regret it."

She looked a bit scared but tried to stand her ground. "Or what? You'll hit me? No wonder why your dad left,""

I saw red. I lunged at her, my fist raised, but strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back. "Let go!" I yelled, struggling against the hold.

"Not her, not now, love," Mattheo's voice whispered in my ear, calming yet firm. He started to pull me away from the mess, his grip gentle but unyielding.

"Mattheo, let go of me," I insisted, trying to break free.

"Not until you calm down," he replied, his eyes full of concern. "I can't let you get into trouble over this."

He guided me into an empty hallway with a balcony, a secluded spot even the ghosts avoided. I was still shaking with rage, my breathing ragged. "Who do you think you are? Don’t touch me! Stay away!" I shouted, pushing at his chest.

"Just breathe, my love," he murmured, his hands cupping my face gently, thumbs stroking my cheeks. "Breathe with me."

His touch, his voice, started to pierce through the fog of anger. I took a shaky breath, then another, my heartbeat slowly steadying.

"Look at me," he said softly, tilting my chin up so our eyes met. "Every single one who talks bad about you is going to regret it. They’re going to wish they were dead before they ever said a word."

"Why do you act like this?" I demanded, my voice trembling. "You act like you care, like you—" I faltered, trying to find the right words. "Your mixed signals are driving me crazy! You pull me closer just to walk away after."

He looked pained, his eyes searching mine for understanding, but he said nothing.

"Say something!" I pleaded, tears welling up. "Anything!"

Still, he remained silent, and the silence cut deeper than any words ever could.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the rest of the boys appeared. Blaise was the first to speak, his gaze flicking between me and Mattheo. "You okay?" he asked.

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Theo stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "This happened before, didn't it?"

I took a deep breath, nodding again. "Yes."

Draco crossed his arms, his expression softening. "Well, that explains why you were acting distant. You should have told us."

"I didn't know what to say," I admitted, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Enzo's voice was gentle as he asked, "What happened before?"

I glanced at Mattheo, who was watching me with an unreadable expression. I couldn't bear his eyes on me anymore. Looking back at Enzo, I said quietly, "It was on the train."

Their eyes widened as I recounted the overheard conversation, the cruel words that had been said about me, and how it had all culminated in the confrontation just now. Mattheo's gaze never left me, and I knew what he was thinking, but I couldn't deal with it anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice breaking. "I just... I need to go to my dorm. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Enzo stepped forward, his concern evident. "I'll walk you."

I nodded, unable to look at Mattheo as I turned to leave. Enzo fell into step beside me, his presence a small comfort amidst the chaos.

The next day, as I walked into class, I was met with an unexpected wave of greetings and offers of help.

"Hey, need any notes from yesterday?" asked one girl, her smile bright and friendly.

"I saved you a seat," another girl said, gesturing to the spot next to her.

"Do you need a quill? I've got an extra," someone else offered, holding out a shiny new quill.

I looked around, confused by the sudden change in behavior. These were the same people who had ignored me or worse, whispered behind my back just a day ago. Before I could process it, a group of girls approached, all smiles and compliments.

"Your hair looks amazing today," one of them said, her tone overly enthusiastic.

"Yeah, and your shoes are so cute!" another added.

"Thanks," I muttered, bewildered by their sudden interest.

Then, the girl from yesterday's confrontation appeared, looking hesitant. She took a deep breath and stepped closer. "I'm really sorry about what I said yesterday," she began, her voice shaky. "Please forgive me. I didn't mean any of it, and I feel terrible."

I stared at her, trying to make sense of this abrupt apology. "Why are you apologizing now?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice.

Before she could respond, I noticed him. The boy who had made that disgusting comment about me the day before. His arm was in a sling, supported by a wooden splint, and his face was a mess of blue and purple bruises. He had a black eye, swollen nearly shut.

"I, uh, fell down the stairs," he mumbled, not meeting my gaze.

I looked between the two of them, realization dawning. My stomach churned, and I felt the sudden urge to get out of there. Grabbing my things, I bolted from the classroom, not stopping until I was far from the castle. I found myself in a hidden garden, a place where I often went to think.

I sat down on the ground, trying to calm my racing heart and catch my breath. I wasn't dumb. I knew what had really happened. I knew who was behind the sudden wave of attention, the apologies, the broken bones. It wasn't hard to piece it together.

Mattheo.

But clarity seemed a distant dream. I leaned back against the tree, closing my eyes, and tried to find a moment of calm amidst the chaos Mattheo had left in his wake.

I stayed in the garden for what felt like hours, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the turmoil. Eventually, I knew I would have to face him, to confront what had happened and what it meant. But for now, I just needed to breathe.

I felt someone approaching and sat beside me. I looked up and met Mattheo’s eyes. He was holding a book in his hand.

I felt someone approaching and sat up, my heart pounding. When I looked up, I met Mattheo’s eyes. He was holding a book in his hand.

"I—I got this for you," he said, his voice soft.

I glanced at the book, then back at him, and took it from his hand. It was Persuasion, another Jane Austen's novels. My heart beat even faster as I muttered a thank you. Then I noticed the blood on his hands, despite his clear attempts to wash it off.

He asked, "What were you reading on the train?"

I stared at him, incredulous. "You’re seriously asking me about my books while having blood on your hands? and probably terrorized the whole school before coming here!" I shouted.

He just smirked. "Are you insane, Mattheo? Seriously, what the hell?" I yelled again.

He raised his eyebrows, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I told you they were going to regret what they said yesterday, didn't I?"

"I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help," I snapped, trying to walk away, but he grabbed my hand, pulling me back until my back hit the tree.

"I know," he said.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, trapped between his hands on either side of my face and the tree behind me. His closeness was overwhelming.

"You’re insane," I muttered.

"Well, I need to talk to you, and you left me no other choice," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I chuckled sarcastically. "You kidding me? Because as much as I remember, you were the one who left after—" I stammered, my face turning red, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yes, my love, after what?" he asked, smiling even wider.

"After I went down on you? Or when I had my finger deep inside you?" he continued, his voice low and teasing. I put my hands over his mouth, desperate to stop him.

"Oh, Lord, stop," I said, my voice a whisper. He kissed my hand, sending a jolt through me, and I pulled it away quickly, my face burning even more.

"Don’t go shy on me now, love. I’m pretty sure I kissed more intimate parts," he said, leaning closer to whisper in my ear. "I've had your taste on my tongue for weeks."

I tried to hit him in the chest, but he grabbed both my hands with one hand, pinning them above my head.

“Listen,” he said, getting more serious. “Enzo told me about what Blaise said that day.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I really want to know another tale about you with a girl in bed.”

“Another tale?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I looked him in the eyes, my voice trembling with both anger and hurt. “I heard what that girl said on the train. About how good you were in bed, how you liked it rough, just did the job and left with no kisses. She wasn’t even complaining, Mattheo. She said she’d do anything to sleep with you again, but it’s too bad because you don’t sleep with the same girl twice."

“Did she now?” he said, smirking.

“Fuck you, Mattheo,” I said, trying to pull away, but his hold was too strong. “Fuck you so much. I get it. I was delusional to think it was more than a one-time thing for you because you don’t sleep with the same girl twice, you don’t—” My voice cracked, betraying my emotions.

"Did it look like a fucking one-time thing back then, Y/N?" he demanded, sharp and serious. I avoided his gaze, my anger and pain battling inside me.

"Answer," he insisted, his face inches from mine. I looked up at him, the intensity in his eyes making it hard to breathe.

"No," I admitted, my voice barely audible.

"Because it fucking wasn’t," he said. "It wasn’t a simple fuck. I was making love to you, and that freaked the shit out of me." The veins in his neck stood out as he spoke, his eyes blazing.

I blinked, trying to process his words. "So, yes," he continued, his voice lower but no less intense, "what the girl said was right. I’ve fucked other girls like that. Rough, fast, no strings attached. Just getting off and moving on. No kisses, no tenderness, just raw and dirty, didn’t look at them more than I had to.”

My breathing grew heavier as his words sank in.“So, does it look like that now?” he asked, his voice softer but still intense. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed.

“Fucking look at me Y/N,” he commanded, and I looked up at him, shaking my head.

“Every time I look at you, at those lips,” he whispered, his voice dropping lower, “all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you. How much I want to taste you. How much I want you in every way. It’s not just about fucking. It’s about you. Every part of you, that night... you were in my arms, and I managed to sleep. You have no idea how rare that is for me.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, my body responding despite my confusion. I could feel the heat between us, the undeniable pull that had always been there.

I looked at him, standing there, rain-soaked and intense, and the tears kept falling from my eyes.

“And no, I don’t want you to be my friend,” he continued, his voice rising. “I want to hear you moaning my name. I want to have you, all of you. To kiss every inch of you. To make you smile, to see you laugh. To put your happiness above anything because nothing else matters. Nothing but you.”

His words were raw, cutting through the rain and my confusion. The sheer intensity of his confession left me breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the pull, the magnetic force between us, stronger than ever.

“I’ve tried to stay away, to keep my distance,” he went on, his voice breaking slightly. “But every time I see you, it’s like a punch to the gut. I’m fighting a losing battle. I don’t just want you. I need you. In every way possible.”

I stood there, soaked and trembling, unable to speak. His words had stripped me bare, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. The rain continued to pour, a relentless backdrop to his declaration.

“So tell me, do you understand now?” he asked again, his voice softer.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. The truth of his words was undeniable, resonating deep within me. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, and met his gaze.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I understand.”

He reached out, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I will be so good to you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing my skin. “I would do anything for you. I fucked up, and I—”

I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his, cutting him off. For a moment, he was surprised and didn’t kissed me back, I pulled back, looking him in the eye. And as if a dam had broken, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer.

He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. His lips were soft but insistent, demanding and giving all at once. I felt his hands on my waist, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around his hips as he held me against him, the kiss growing more passionate. The rain poured down, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else.

His tongue parted my lips, and I opened to him, the taste of him intoxicating. He kissed me with a fervor that made my head spin, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me tighter against him. I could feel the hard lines of his body, the heat between us almost unbearable.

"Wait," I managed to gasp, pulling back slightly. "The book, the rain—"

"I'll get you a new one," he promised, his voice fierce, breathing heavily against my lips. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling gently until my face tilted up to meet his gaze. Then he kissed me again, more fiercely this time, as if he couldn’t get enough.

I melted into him, my hands clinging to his shoulders as he devoured me. His lips moved over mine with a raw, desperate need, and I responded with equal fervor. The world around us disappeared, the rain, the cold, everything fading away until there was only him, only us.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine. "Come with me," he murmured, his voice a soft plea. "Let's get out of this rain."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, his hand slipping into mine, and we ran through the rain. We found shelter under a nearby awning, the sudden silence after the roar of the rain almost surreal.

He looked at me, his eyes dark and intense, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. "You're soaked," he said, his voice gentle, as he brushed a strand of wet hair from my face.

"So are you," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Well, we make a pretty pair then," he teased, his hand settling on my waist.

I laughed, the sound light and carefree, a stark contrast to the storm still raging around us. "We do, don't we?"

His gaze softened, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I've never seen anyone look so beautiful soaking wet."

I rolled my eyes playfully, running a hand through his wet hair. "You're just saying that because you want to kiss me again."

He grinned, leaning in closer. "Maybe. But it's true." His lips hovered over mine, the anticipation making my heart race. "And for the record, I do want to kiss you again. Very much."

"Then what are you waiting for?" I challenged, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He didn't need any more encouragement. His lips captured mine in a kiss that was both sweet and passionate, his hand tightening on my waist, pulling me flush against him. I could feel the warmth of his body through the wet fabric of our clothes, the contrast to the chill of the rain making my skin tingle.

As the kiss deepened, his free hand slid up my back, tangling in my hair. I moaned softly against his lips, the sound making him groan in response. He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against my skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "The things I want to do to you."

My cheeks flushed, and I looked down, feeling a mix of excitement and shyness. "Like what?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I want to make you mine in every possible way," he said, his eyes burning with intensity. "I want to hear you scream my name, to see you come apart in my arms. I want to kiss every inch of you, to make you feel things you've never felt before."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the blush that was spreading across my cheeks. "You're making me blush," I whispered, my voice shaky.

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Good. I like it when you blush." He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "I like knowing I'm the one making you feel this way."

I closed my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. His words, his touch, everything about him was overwhelming. "You're insufferable," I muttered, but there was no heat in my words, only affection.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "You love it," he teased, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my neck.

I sighed, my fingers threading through his hair as I leaned into his touch. "Yeah, I do," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "Good," he said softly, his hand cupping my face. "Because I'm not letting you go."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the rain. "I don't want you to,".

"So, I really have done it in your Mr. Darcy way, haven't I?" he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I was always jealous of him, when you talked about him like that you know?"

Before I could respond, his mouth was on my neck, kissing and sucking gently, then more insistently. I let out a soft moan, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Perfect," he said, admiring his handiwork.

I laughed, breathless and flushed. "What was that for?"

He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "It's for Blaise. Since he loves to ask so much."

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress my smile. "You know he went on a date last night, right?"

"Did he now?" Mattheo replied, his fingers trailing down my arm. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sent another thrill through me. "And what if I don't want to be claimed like some trophy?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He pulled me closer, his lips brushing against mine. "Then I'll just have to work harder to prove I deserve you," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his words seep into me. "You've already proven that," I said softly, kissing him again. "But I wouldn't mind seeing you try."

He laughed, the sound rich and joyful. "Challenge accepted."

We stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, the rain a distant memory. His hands roamed over my back, his touch sending sparks of electricity through me. I leaned into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my chest, and knew that this was where I belonged.

"We should get inside," I said, glancing at the castle in the distance. "Before we catch our deaths."

"Right," he agreed, but made no move to let go. "But just one more kiss."

"Just one more," I echoed, leaning up to meet his lips again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Bonus scene ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

As we approached our usual spot, I saw Blaise, Enzo, Theo, Pansy and Draco already seated, with an unfamiliar girl sitting beside Blaise.

I caught Blaise’s curious gaze fixed on my neck. He raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Blaise said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Is that a hickey, Y/N?”

I felt my face heat up, and before I could muster a response, Mattheo leaned forward, his grin turning positively devilish.

“Yes, mate,” Mattheo said smoothly. “It is a hickey.”

Blaise’s eyes widened slightly before he broke into a laugh. “By whom, I wonder?”

Mattheo wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “By me, obviously,” he declared, his voice filled with pride. “Wanted to make sure everyone knows she’s mine.”

I blushed even deeper, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Draco looked between us, his grin widening. “Well, it’s about time. I was starting to think you’d never make a move.”

Mattheo chuckled, his hand moving to rest possessively on my waist. “Trust me, I’ve made plenty of moves. Just decided it was time to make it official.”

He winked at me. “Just make sure he treats you right. If not, you know where to find me.”

Mattheo tightened his hold on me, his eyes flashing with a playful warning. “She won’t need to, because I’m going to treat her better than anyone else ever could.”

I laughed, the tension melting away as I leaned into Mattheo’s embrace. “I think I can handle him.”

"So," Pansy said, leaning forward with an impish grin. "Does this mean you're off the market, then?"

"Consider me taken," Mattheo said, his voice firm. "And very happily so."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Tag list :

@heelshiree @hoeforvinniehackerrr @cookiesex115 @mgchaser @mayamonroem @hereticdance @heelshiree @fallingblackveils @cardi-bre91 @sonnderlust @too-efn-old-to-be-here @gemizminee @broadwaybaby123 @howdyhowby@hisparentsgallerryy @sksksksk28

[insidekatmind]

Confession-Alejandro Balde

Wearning:+18,sweet smut.

It was late, and the rain was falling gently on the streets of Barcelona as you clutched your phone in your hands, your heart shattered by yet another lie. The proof was right there, in front of your eyes messages, photos, details that left no room for doubt. He had cheated on you. Again.

You felt foolish, exhausted, drained. How much longer were you going to stay in this toxic relationship, hoping he would change?

A knock at the door made you jump. You already knew who it was.

Alejandro stood there, his hoodie slightly damp from the rain, his eyes burning with restrained anger. He looked at you for a moment, then, without saying a word, pulled you into his arms.

"You don’t deserve this," he whispered against your hair.

You broke down in tears, letting all the pain flow out, just like the rain streaming down the windows. Alejandro didn’t let go, not even for a second.

"I don’t understand why I keep hurting myself," you murmured, your voice breaking.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. His dark eyes were intense, filled with a feeling you couldn’t quite decipher yet.

"Because you love him," he answered, a trace of bitterness in his tone. "But he doesn’t know what it means to love you."

Your breath hitched for a moment."Ale…"

He shook his head, taking a deep breath as if he was about to say something he had been holding back for too long.

"I’ve seen you suffer too many times, Y/N. I’ve watched you forgive, hope, stay when you should have walked away." He paused, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "And I realized I can’t stand by and watch anymore."

Your heart pounded wildly.

"I love you," he confessed, his voice trembling but sure. "And I have for a long time. I just always thought you deserved someone better than me… but then I realized that anyone would be better than him."

He gave you space to pull away, to refuse, to deny. But you didn’t. Because in that moment, with his hands holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, you felt a truth you had never dared to face before:

Alejandro was everything your ex wasn’t.

And maybe, he was exactly what you had needed all along.

You look at him for a while and then finally kiss him. He responded almost immediately, kissing you back hungrily, as if he could not believe that this was finally happening. His hands roamed across your body possessively, pulling you closer to him as if he wanted to fuse your body into his.

You straddled him without breaking the kiss. He groaned, his hands gripping your waist as you straddled him, his body reacting to you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth passionately. Alejandro shifted you a little so you were fully sitting on his lap, and could feel his excitement growing as your body pressed against him.

You moaned and clung to him as you kissed him more passionately. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breathing ragged, and looked at you with dark eyes filled with desire.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured, his hands roaming across your back, as if trying to memorize every curve of your body. Without warning, he flipped you both over so you were now laying on the couch, with him hovering over you.

You look at him smiling and you let him fall on your body hugging him while you caressed his hair and every now and then you gave him sweet kisses on his face. He buried his face in your neck, nuzzling and breathing you in. His body was heavy on you, but it felt safe and comforting.

His hands roamed your body, sliding underneath your shirt and caressing your bare back. He let out a low moan, as if just the touch of your skin was enough to make him lose his mind. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He began to kiss and lick your skin, his teeth grazing along your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His hands continued to roam over your body, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You could feel his arousal, hard and wanting, pressed against you, and it made you shiver with anticipation. You pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair. He responded immediately to your touch, his body pressing against yours even more. His hands were everywhere, as his mouth latched onto your skin, finding every sensitive spot that made you arch your back, and moan softly.

He nipped at your earlobe and then whispered in your ear, his voice deep and sensual, “I want you. I want you so bad it’s driving me crazy.” You shivered at his words, feeling a new wave of desire wash over you. You pulled him closer, kissing him hard and needy, as your body strained against his. He groaned, his hands sliding further down your body, exploring every curve as if marking you as his territory.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, wanting him even closer, wanting to feel every inch of his body against yours. He responded in kind, his own hips rolling against you as he kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours.

Alejandro gently and delicately takes off your leggings and kisses your legs softly and then takes off your panties, he moans at the sight. He looked at you, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. He ran his hands over your thighs, his touch a mix of gentle and possessive.

"You are so magnificent," he murmured, his voice hoarse, as he planted kisses along your legs, his lips sending shivers of pleasure through your body. Alejandro slowly made his way up, his hands sliding up to your hips, as he pulled you closer. He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours, filled with an intensity you had never seen before.

He quickly takes off his sweatpants and boxers and slowly enters you. His hands gripped your thighs as he slowly entered you, his body trembling with desire. He let out a low moan, his eyes locked on yours, as if he couldn't look away.

He took a moment, his body completely enveloped in you, and you could feel his heart pounding against your chest. He leaned in, kissing you deeply, his body pressed against yours as if he couldn't get close enough. “You feel so good,” he says softly as he pushed his cock into you slowly and sensually.

You moan softly feeling his gentle, slow and sensual thrusts. Alejandro watched your face closely, his gaze taking in every single expression you made. He loved the way your body responded to his touch, the way your moans made him shiver.

His hands continued to roam your body, finding all the spots that made you arch your back, and squirm in pleasure. He was taking his time, wanting to make you feel every single moment, every single sensation.

“Ale” you moan softly as you still feel his slow and sensual thrusts. “faster” you murmur but Alejandro shakes his head. “There's time baby, I want to make you feel every inch of me inside you” he whispers softly kissing your forehead.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his hands roaming over your body lovingly. “I’ve wanted this for so long, I can barely believe it’s real.”

Your heart beats fast at his words and you smile softly and then moan as you feel Alejandro slowly and sensually hitting your g-spot. “There it is,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming as he noted your reaction. He knew he had found the perfect spot, and he began to move himself even more to touch it more softly, slowly making you lose your mind.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he commanded. “Don’t look away.” You obeyed, your gaze locked with his as he continued to move inside you. His eyes were dark and intense, filled with so much emotion it took your breath away.

He bent down to kiss you again, his mouth devouring yours possessively. His movements became even more deliberate, as if he was trying to drive you crazy. Every inch of your body was on fire, ignited by the passion of his touch. Alejandro picked up the pace a little, his thrusts becoming deeper and more erratic, but he was still in control, still keeping the rhythm slow and sensual. He could feel your body reacting to his touch, your breathing ragged and heavy.

Alejandro watched you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was trying to burn this moment into his memory. His hands were everywhere, roaming your skin, touching every part of you as if he couldn’t get enough.

You moan softly, kissing his jaw lovingly. "Ale I'm coming" you whisper. “Let go, baby,” he whispered back. “I’ve got you, I’m here.”His hands gripped your thighs a little tighter, as he continued to move inside you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he said, his voice low and sensual. “Come for me and I’ll catch you.” At his words you moan softly and come. With two more thrusts he pulls out and comes on your belly sighing loudly.

He groans at the sight. Alejandro reaches out and takes the rag that was on the furniture and removes his cum from you and then throws the rag on the floor. Alejandro collapsed beside you, his body glistening with sweat, his breathing ragged. He pulled you closer, holding you tightly in his arms. “That was… incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and filled with emotion.

Alejandro looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. He gently kissed your forehead, his fingers tracing a path across your skin as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You smile sweetly and hug him.

He held you close, relishing the feeling of you in his arms. He gently kissed the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair. "I can't believe that just happened," he murmured, still sounding slightly breathless. "I've dreamed of this for so long, and it was even better than I could have imagined.”

Alejandro hugged you tighter, feeling a wave of protectiveness wash over him. He never wanted to let you go. He wanted to keep you safe, keep you happy, and keep you close. His hand gently caressed your back, feeling the soft curves of your body. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I love you so much, and I always have. I just never thought it could be real."

Alejandro pulled back slightly, so he could look into your eyes. He wanted to make sure you knew how serious he was, how honest his words were. He cradled your face in his hands and searched your gaze, his expression filled with a mixture of vulnerable and intensity.

[xmattschainx]

Push and Pull

the one where you get in a fight with matt and say you hate him so he also wants to show you how much he "hates" you but only in the mirror (12.3K words)

Contains: smut, unprotected piv, fingering, self voyeurism, overstim, soft!dom! boyfriend matt x sub!fem reader

The room felt like a pressure cooker, the walls squeezing in tighter and tighter as I struggled to breathe. Every creak of the old floorboards seemed to echo in the tense, suffocating silence between Matt and I. The air was thick with everything left unsaid over days, weeks, maybe even months. Every muscle in my body was wound tight, frustration coiling up inside me like a snake ready to strike. I couldn’t stand the way he was looking at me—or not looking at me, really. Matt’s face was blank, his lips pressed into a stubborn line, his silence like a brick wall I kept slamming into. My hands were clenched at my sides before I gave in to the rush of frustration and shoved him.

And I shoved him hard, surprising myself with the amount of force that exuded from me. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing anymore. My hands were shaking, but I pushed him, needing to see some kind of reaction, needing to make him feel something. “You don’t get it, do you?” I shouted, my voice breaking around the edges and slicing through the stillness of the room. The hurt that had been simmering there for so long clawed its way up, twisting my words into ugly, desperate things. I pushed him again, harder this time, as if I could physically shake the understanding into him. “You never listen. You never even try to, Matt.”

Matt stood there with his jaw clenched, unyielding, his cold blue eyes locked onto mine. He took a small step back to steady himself, his body coiled tight, ready to break. He didn’t speak, not yet, even though I could see his composure fraying. His silence, his infuriating, maddening silence, made my chest tighten with even more anger.

I shoved him again, desperate for any kind of reaction out of him. His body barely shifted, but I felt the tension in him, like he was barely keeping himself together. The way his jaw stiffened, the way his fists curled at his sides, it was evident something dark was brewing inside of him, simmering beneath that infuriating silence.

“You think it’s okay to just shut down like this? To stand there and act like I’m the crazy one?” I screamed, my voice cracking despite my attempts to keep it steady. I felt like I was suffocating. Every time I spoke, it felt like I was throwing my voice into an empty void. His silence was a knife, cutting deeper than any words he could have said.

Matt didn’t move, didn’t say a damn thing, and something inside me snapped. I shoved him one more time, my palms pressing against the hardness of his chest. I hated how solid he felt, how immovable. “Say something, damn it!”

His nostrils flared, and for a split second, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes. Something I couldn’t quite name. His silence wasn’t calm; I knew that. I could feel the storm he was holding back, the one that mirrored my own. But he kept swallowing his words, which kept pushing me to the edge of my own sanity.

My breath came out ragged, and I hated the way my voice trembled. The frustration clawed at me, tearing me apart. I felt like I was burning alive, and his stillness, his stubborn refusal to fight back, felt like gasoline on the flames. I stepped forward again, my voice breaking. “Do you even care?” I demanded, feeling tears sting the corners of my eyes, hot and furious.  “Do you ever care, Matt, or am I just… am I just screaming into the void?”

Matt’s eyes flickered, and I saw something crack, his composure visibly crumbling. As his hands, clenched into fists at his sides, he finally spoke. His voice coming out low and rough, every syllable trembling with barely controlled anger. “You think I don’t care?”

My heart lurched at the sound of his voice, at the force of it, but I didn’t let myself falter. My heart was pounding erratically. I wanted to throw his words back at him, wanted to scream that it felt like he didn’t. But the raw anger in his voice made me freeze, just for a second, before I forced myself to stand my ground. “Yeah, maybe I do! Because all you do is—” my words cut off, caught in my throat as Matt finally, finally, moved. He stepped forward, closing the distance I had been trying so desperately to maintain.

“I’m not saying anything because if I do, it’s going to make this worse. Is that what you want?” His voice was still low, but the sharp edge was there, like a crack in the surface of something dangerous. His eyes searched mine, and for the first time, I saw how close he was to breaking, how much he was holding back.

For a moment, we just stood there, locked in that terrible, fragile tension, neither of us willing to back down. We were standing so close that I could feel the heat radiating from him. My hands hovered near his chest, fingers trembling, and I realized I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shove him again or pull him closer. The space between us was charged, full of everything we had never said, everything we had buried under fights and stubborn silences. The anger was still there, but this time it was different. It was dangerous, on the verge of tipping into something we might not come back from. It made me want to either scream until I lost my voice or pull him closer until I lost myself. The heat between us wasn’t just anger. It never had been.

But I was afraid. Because if this fight tipped over the edge, if the anger broke and gave way to whatever was underneath, there was no telling what we would become.

The silence hung thick between us, pressing down on my chest until I thought it might crush me. My hands were still shaking, hovering inches from his chest, and I could feel the tears still burning at the corners of my eyes. I was unraveling, breaking apart in front of him, and he just stood there, looking at me like he was barely holding himself together.

I hated how much I wanted to pull him closer, to make him feel everything that was tearing me apart. I hated how he could make me feel so angry and desperate all at once. The words came out before I could stop them, my voice cracking as it sliced through the silence. “I hate you sometimes.”

The second the words left my lips, his expression shifted. Matt’s eyebrow shot up, the surprise flashing in his eyes for only a moment before something more dangerous settled there. I felt my breath catch as he moved, swift and sudden, closing the space between us in a heartbeat. Before I knew what was happening, he had me pressed up against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. My back pressed against the cold wall, and the contrast made the heat between us feel even more intense. His body loomed over mine, trapping me there, and my pulse raced as I looked up at him. His face was close, so close, his blue eyes searching mine with an intensity that made me forget how to breathe.

He had me pinned, but he was careful… so careful. His hands stayed on the wall, never touching me, even though his presence was suffocating. His body was tense, muscles coiled with barely restrained energy, but I knew he’d never hurt me. That tension that had been building between us was almost suffocating now, crackling in the air, making me feel like I was balancing on the edge of a cliff.

“Sometimes, huh?” Matt’s voice was low, rough around the edges, but there was a flicker of something else there, something that made my knees weak. His eyes burned into mine, and I could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body trembled with barely controlled restraint. “You hate me sometimes?”

I swallowed, my throat dry. His face was so close that I could see the way his jaw flexed, the way his eyes grew colder. My words had pushed him to the edge, and now he was here, trapping me between him and the wall, daring me to say something else. My chest rose and fell rapidly, and I could feel the heat rising in my face.

I wanted to shove him away, to scream at him to stop driving me crazy. But I also wanted something else, something that made me feel even more out of control. The way he looked at me, the way he held himself back from touching me even though he was so close, made my skin tingle with something that wasn’t anger anymore. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was all of it, tangled together so tightly that I couldn’t tell the difference.

I bit my lip, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Yeah. Sometimes.” The words shook, but I held his gaze, even though it made my stomach twist with that same confusing, overwhelming feeling.

Matt’s eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought he might actually step back. The anger still simmered between us, a tangible heat in the air, but there was something else there, something that made my pulse quicken. His hands moved from the wall, coming down slowly to rest on either side of my waist. I could feel the tremble in his grip, the restraint that was slowly breaking.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over my ear, and his voice was rough, like he was fighting every word before letting it escape. “I hate you, too.” he said, and the confession made something clench inside my chest. But his voice softened, cracking around the edges. “I hate how you drive me insane.”

I shivered as his fingers curled around my waist, his touch careful but strong, grounding me even though I was falling apart. He pulled back just enough so he could look at me, his eyes blazing with everything he hadn’t said until now. His gaze drifted over my face, and he lifted his hand, brushing his thumb over my cheek.

“I hate how you bite your lip when you’re trying to hold back your anger.” he murmured, his voice low. His thumb tugged gently at my bottom lip, and the touch sent a thrill racing through me, even as his words made my cheeks burn. “It drives me crazy.”

My breath caught in my throat, but he wasn’t finished. His hand moved to brush a strand of hair out of my face, his fingers trailing down the side of my neck. “I hate the way you push your hair behind your ears when you’re frustrated, even though you know it’s going to fall right back in front of your face.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the spot where my neck met my shoulder, and I couldn’t stop the way my body reacted, heat blooming under my skin. “And I hate that I notice it every damn time.”

His other hand moved up to cradle the side of my face, his thumb tracing over my jawline. His eyes never left mine, and the intensity there made my knees weak. “I hate how your eyes light up when you’re angry.” he said, his voice rougher now, full of the emotions he had been holding back. “The way you look at me like I’m the only person in the world who can make you feel this much. It makes me want to kiss you and fight you all at once.”

His hand slipped down, his fingers brushing over my collarbone, making my breath hitch. “I hate how soft your skin is.” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. “How every time I touch you, it feels like it’s never enough.”

I was trembling, caught between the anger still burning in my chest and the way his touch made my head spin. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against mine, and his next words made my heart stop. “I hate how much I need you, even when you’re driving me insane.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me again, his hands still holding me, keeping me pinned between him and the wall. His eyes were full of emotions I couldn’t even begin to untangle. “I hate how beautiful you look even when you’re yelling at me.” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I hate that I can’t stop wanting you, even when I know I should just walk away.”

His hands slid back to my waist, holding me tighter now, and I could feel the way his control was slipping. “God, I hate you for making me love every single thing about you.” he whispered, his voice raw and vulnerable in a way that shattered me.

My breath was shallow, my heart pounding. His words had stripped away the anger, leaving something deeper, something more dangerous. The way he looked at me, the way his hands held me like he never wanted to let go, made me feel like I was on the edge of something I couldn’t control.

My heart was racing, every word he said sinking into me like a flame, leaving me breathless. His confession left us both raw, vulnerable, and unguarded, but the intensity in his eyes made it impossible for me to look away. I was still pinned between him and the wall, but it felt different now. The anger had morphed into something deeper, something that twisted and burned in my chest.

His hands on my waist tightened just a fraction, and the tension between us crackled, a spark threatening to ignite. My breath hitched, and I knew he could feel how my body was reacting to him. My heart was slamming against my ribcage, and the space between us felt suffocating, electric.

“I can’t stand you.” I whispered, my voice breaking, though there was no anger left in it. My hands, which had been balled into fists, unfurled and rested against his chest, feeling the steady, erratic thump of his heart beneath my fingertips. I was still shaking, but now it wasn’t from rage. It was from everything else. Everything he made me feel. “You say all that like it’s supposed to make me hate you less.”

A low laugh escaped him, though it was more of a sound caught somewhere between frustration and desire. He leaned in until his forehead pressed against mine, his lips hovering just inches from mine. I could feel his breath, warm and ragged, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “You really think I want to make you hate me less?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower, sending a thrill straight through me. “I think I’m more addicted to you when you hate me.”

His fingers moved slowly, tracing small circles over my hips, making it hard to breathe. I wanted to shove him away, but I also wanted to pull him closer, to erase the sliver of space between us. I hated the way he knew that, the way he knew me better than anyone else.

“I hate that.” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I hate that you get under my skin like this.” My hands curled into his shirt, pulling him a fraction closer, and the tension between us reached a breaking point. “You make me feel insane, Matt.”

He exhaled heavily, and his eyes locked onto mine. His lips hovered so close to mine that I felt dizzy, caught between wanting to slap him and wanting to lose myself in him. His fingers moved from my hips to my back, his touch sending heat rushing through my body. “You drive me insane, too.” he murmured, his voice rough and full of something that made me ache.

And then, all at once, he broke. His lips crashed into mine, fierce and demanding, and the fire that had been building between us exploded. I kissed him back instinctively, hard, my hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him. The anger melted into something desperate, something that had been buried under all the shouting and frustration, something that had always been there.

Matt pressed me harder against the wall, his hands gripping my hips, and I felt the heat of his body, the way he couldn’t hold back anymore. I gasped against his mouth, and he deepened the kiss, his touch consuming me. My whole body felt like it was on fire, and I realized that every push and pull, every fight, had led to this.

We were a mess, tangled together, caught up in this endless cycle of love and hate and everything in between. His hands roamed over me, careful but desperate, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, our shared frustration dissolving into something we couldn’t control.

I didn’t know where this was going, if we’d go back to fighting tomorrow, but right now, it didn’t matter. Right now, all that mattered was the way he made me feel, the way his kiss made me forget everything except for him.

Matt was panting, as his forehead pressed against mine, and I could feel the way his body trembled with the same tension that had been boiling over between us. His hands were still holding me against the wall, strong and steady, but he was careful, he always was, even when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control. His eyes searched mine, wild and full of emotions that made my pulse race.

“I hate you.” he whispered again, but his voice was breaking now, rough and full of something I could almost taste between us. His lips hovered so close to mine that it was impossible to ignore how my heart was slamming in my chest. “I hate that even when I can’t stand you, when you make me so damn furious, I still want you. So badly.”

His words sent a jolt through me, and my fingers curled tighter into his shirt, feeling the hard beat of his heart beneath my touch. He leaned in, his voice rough and low, and it made every inch of me shiver. “I hate that even when we’re at each other’s throats, I only want to touch you.” he said, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me closer. “I hate that you’re in my head, that you’re under my skin, and I can’t get you out.”

My breath caught, and I didn’t know if I was burning with anger or desire or if there was even a difference between the two right now. His lips brushed against my ear, and I couldn’t stop the way my body reacted, a shiver running through me. “You make me so mad I can’t think straight, and yet all I want to do is kiss you until I can’t breathe.” he murmured, his voice like a confession, breaking with the frustration that had been building between us for so long.

My heart felt like it might explode. His words undid me, made me feel like I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous. The tension between us was electric, our anger shifting into something that burned just as fiercely but in a completely different way. His hand slid up to cup my jaw, his thumb swiping across my parted lips, and his eyes were so full of need that it stole my breath away.

I tilted my head up, meeting his gaze, my body trembling. “Then what are you waiting for?” I whispered, my voice shaking with everything we’d been holding back. “If you want me so bad, Matt, then do something about it.”

For a moment, his eyes widened, and then the last shred of restraint shattered. He closed the distance between us, his lips crashing into mine, and it felt like the world finally fell apart in the best possible way. His kiss was fierce, desperate, and I kissed him back just as hard, my hands tangling in his hair and pulling him closer.

The anger, the frustration, the need, it all melted together, consuming us. His hands gripped my waist, his touch rough and hungry, and I felt like I was free-falling, completely lost in him. The heat between us was overwhelming, and I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but the way he made me feel.

And in that moment, I realized that maybe we’d never make sense, but I didn’t care. Because being with him, feeling him, wanting him, and needing him, was the only thing that made me feel alive.

Matt’s hands gripped my waist tighter, and in one swift movement, he pulled me away from the wall. I gasped into his mouth, but he didn’t break the kiss. His arms wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto him as he held me against his body.

The sudden closeness made my head spin, and the way he carried me, strong and sure, sent a thrill coursing through my veins. His mouth was relentless, his kisses consuming every thought, every shred of doubt, and I clung to him, my hands still tangled in his hair. The need between us was electric, crackling through the air, making everything else melt away.

He moved through the apartment, never breaking our kiss, his lips desperate and unyielding. I felt my back press against the wall for a moment as he adjusted his grip on me, his mouth trailing hot, searing kisses down my neck, and I let out a shuddering breath, my hands sliding to his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

Somehow, Matt managed to navigate us to the bedroom, and he didn’t slow down. He carried me across the threshold of the room with the same desperate energy that had consumed us. But instead of tossing me onto the bed as I was expecting him to, he slowed his pace, his breath heavy against my neck. His grip on my waist was firm as he set me down gently in front of the full-length mirror that stood a few feet away from the bed.

His arms swiped past my waist as he walked around to stand right behind me, so we both could face the mirror standing before us. I felt the heat of his body radiating into mine, while his hands held my hips firmly. I barely had a moment to catch my breath before he leaned down, his mouth grazing the shell of my ear. I met his gaze in the reflection, and the look in his eyes made my heart pound even harder. His expression was raw, full of so many emotions that it left me breathless. The anger we’d been tangled in had transformed into something almost reverent, and it was impossible to look away.

“Look.” he murmured, his voice rough, his hands sliding up my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “I want you to see what I see.” His eyes locked with mine in the mirror, and I could feel the way his body pressed against my back, strong and protective. He kept me pinned there, not with force, but with the magnetic pull between us, the connection that felt as though it was tightening, drawing us even closer.

“I hate,” he whispered, his lips grazing my neck. “The way you look at me with those eyes.” His hands slid up, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw, making me shiver. His thumb brushed over my lips, and I could barely breathe, the intensity in his voice making my knees weak. “I hate how you bite your lip like this.” he continued, his thumb tugging at my bottom lip. “Oh, the things I want to do to them.”

My breath came out shaky, my chest rising and falling rapidly as he held me there, making me face the reflection of us together. The way he looked at me made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered, like he could see right through me. His hands slid lower, tracing over my collarbone, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

“I hate how addicted I am to you.” he said, his voice low and full of longing. His hands slid down, grazing the sides of my waist, and I felt every word reverberate through my body. “How I can’t stop touching you, even when I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

He took a slow, shuddering breath, his eyes darkening as he watched me in the mirror. “And I hate how you drive me absolutely crazy, how every little thing you do makes me want you more.” he whispered, his hands tightening on my waist. “The way you make me lose all my self-control, the way I can’t think straight when I’m this close to you.”

I was trembling, caught between the heat of his body and the intensity in his gaze. He moved one hand up, tilting my head back slightly, making sure I was looking at him. “Do you see what I see?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper, full of all the things he never said out loud. “Do you understand how much you drive me insane?”

The way he held me there, made me face myself through his eyes, was more intimate than anything we had ever shared. My heart raced, and I swallowed, unable to tear my gaze away from the raw, vulnerable way he was looking at me. It wasn’t anger anymore. It was desire, devotion, and a fierce, desperate need that consumed us both.

I bit my lip, and his eyes darkened further, his hand tightening on my jaw. “You see?” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Even now, I can’t stand how much I need you.”

His hand slid from my jaw down to my throat, not to hold or restrain me, but just to feel my pulse racing under his fingertips. His touch was gentle yet commanding, and I was hyper-aware of every place our bodies pressed together. His other hand drifted lower, moving along the curve of my hip, his fingers splaying across my stomach as he held me against him.

“Look at you.” Matt whispered, his voice heavy with desire. His eyes never wavered from mine in the mirror, and I could feel the way he was fighting to keep his control, the tension coiling in every muscle of his body. “Do you see why I can’t walk away? Why I can’t get you out of my head, even when I’m so angry I can barely think?”

I swallowed hard, my breath catching as he kissed the side of my neck, lingering there, his lips brushing over my skin. The heat between us was palpable, overwhelming, and I couldn’t stop the way I leaned back into him, craving more of his touch, more of this intensity. My hands reached down, covering his where they rested on my stomach, and I felt the shiver that ran through him at my touch.

“I hate that you do this to me.” he continued, his voice rough and unsteady, full of raw honesty. “That you make me feel so out of control, like I’d do anything to have you. Even now, when I should be letting this anger go, all I can think about is you.” His eyes burned into mine in the mirror, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest.

He leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear, and his voice dropped even lower. “I hate how perfect you feel pressed against me.” he murmured, his hand sliding back up, tracing the line of my waist, igniting every nerve he touched. “How even when I know I shouldn’t, I need you like this.”

My breath came out in a shudder, and I tilted my head to the side, giving him more access to my neck. He took advantage of it, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to my skin, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. “Matt…” I whispered, my voice breaking, and he groaned, his grip tightening on me.

“You make me lose my mind.” he confessed, his lips trailing lower, and I could feel the frustration and longing pouring out of him. “And I hate that even when we’re at each other’s throats, I still want you more than anything.”

His hands moved with more urgency now, sliding over my body like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he touched me made it feel like he was trying to claim me, to remind me that no one else could ever make him feel this way. Our reflection in the mirror was a mix of heat and tension, the line between love and hate blurred beyond recognition.

I turned my head slightly, catching his lips in a kiss that was just as desperate, just as full of everything we hadn’t been able to put into words. He kissed me back hard, like he was trying to make up for every angry, unsaid thing. His hands tangled in my hair, slightly tugging so my head could be titled higher.

Matt’s kiss was hungry, devouring, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I turned in his grip, breaking free from our mirrored reflection so I could face him directly. My fingers reached for the hem of his t-shirt and I pulled it up and over his head, discarding it onto the floor. My hands slid up his bare chest, and I felt the rapid beat of his heart underneath my palms, and it somehow made me feel grounded in the moment. He was mine and I was his. Our thundering heartbeats were the proof of that.

His hands found my waist again, gripping me tight as he pulled me flush against him. The intensity in his eyes was almost overwhelming, a storm that reflected everything he felt but couldn’t say. He kissed me again, harder this time, and I kissed him back with just as much desperation, pouring every ounce of frustration and need into it.

Our bodies pressed together, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt, his touch hot against my skin. I gasped at the feeling, and he swallowed the sound with a growl, his lips moving to my neck, trailing kisses and light nips that made my knees go weak. “I can’t stand how much I want you.” he whispered against my skin, his voice breaking, raw and full of longing. “Even now, after everything.”

My fingers were found in his hair again, as I tilted my head back to give him more access, and he didn’t hesitate. His hands roamed over me, igniting every inch he touched, and I felt like I was being consumed, lost in him. “Matt…” I breathed, and he lifted his head, his eyes locking onto mine.

The look we shared was a mixture of everything, anger, desire and vulnerability. It made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something I couldn’t control. “Do you understand?” he asked, his voice shaking as his hands cradled my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “Do you get how much you mean to me, even when we’re tearing each other apart?”

I nodded, too breathless to speak, and he leaned in, his forehead pressing against mine. “I hate that I can’t let you go.” he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of the confession. “That no matter how hard we fight, I’m always going to want you. Need you.”

My heart twisted at the raw honesty in his words, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, a mix of overwhelming emotions flooding through me. I cupped his face, brushing my thumbs over his cheekbones, and pulled him into a kiss that was softer, more vulnerable. It was an answer, a way to show him that I felt it, too. Every burning, uncontainable emotion.

He kissed me back, his lips gentle now, as if we were both afraid of shattering this fragile moment. His hands slid down my sides, and he pulled me closer, his body relaxing into mine, though the tension was still there, simmering under the surface. “We’re a mess.” I whispered against his lips, and he let out a chuckle.

“But we’re our mess.” he replied, his voice husky. His fingers traced small circles on my lower back, and the touch made my head spin. “And I’m not going anywhere, even if you drive me insane.”

I smiled, a shaky, broken thing, and kissed him again, feeling the fire between us transform into something softer, something full of hope. The fight had stripped us bare, exposed every raw nerve, but here we were, still tangled up in each other, still holding on.

Matt’s hands moved to my waist, and he picked me up again, his eyes full of something warm and unbreakable. “We’re not done yet.” he said, his voice low and full of promise. “I’m going to show you exactly how much you mean to me.”

He carried me to the bed, never breaking eye contact, and I felt my heart race in a different way now. The anger was gone, replaced with something even more powerful, and I knew, no matter how many fights we had, we’d always find our way back to each other.

My back met the softness of the mattress, but he was right there, following me down, his body pressing against mine as he kept me pinned beneath him. His weight was a comfort and a thrill, and I couldn’t stop the way I arched into him, my lips finding his again, hungry and desperate.

My hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense under my touch, and the fire between us only grew. His mouth left mine, trailing down my jaw to the sensitive spot on my neck, and I couldn’t stop the small, breathless moan that escaped my lips. The sound seemed to spur him on, his hands exploring, his body pressing me into the bed with a possessive urgency that made me feel like I was on fire.

Then something shifted inside me. I could feel the heat of his body, his touch, his gaze, but now there was a different kind of pull. A daring thought that made my heart race in a way I hadn’t expected. We were both so raw, so stripped of our walls, and I knew this was the moment to push the boundaries, to ask for something more.

I ran my fingers down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under my touch, and the way his muscles tensed in response. I could sense the hunger in him, the need for more, but there was something else, something I’d always wanted but never quite said aloud.

“Matt.” I whispered, my voice low and a little unsteady as I met his gaze, watching his eyes flicker with curiosity. “I want you to teach me a lesson.” I said, my words hanging in the air between us, daring him to challenge me.

His brow furrowed slightly, a questioning look crossing his face. “What do you mean by that?” His voice was rough, but there was an edge of caution in it, as if he wasn’t sure where this was going.

I could feel the weight of his uncertainty, and it sent a rush of excitement through me. “You know how much I like it when we’re reckless.” I continued, my words coming faster now, a mix of confidence and need. “When we’re not so… careful. When we’re not playing it safe.”

I saw his breath hitch at my words, and a slow, dangerous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The same smile I’d seen before, when we’d both let go of our inhibitions and let the passion between us burn out of control. It was a reckless thing, but it was always what pushed me, always what made me feel alive.

“I want you to take control.” I said, my voice quieter now, but full of intention. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel everything.”

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide. The air around us seemed to grow thick with anticipation, every nerve in my body lighting up under his gaze. He was still, but there was a storm brewing beneath the surface, and I could feel it. The tension in his muscles, the quickened breath, he was holding back just as much as I was, and I could feel it.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” Matt’s voice was low, gritty, as he hovered above me, looking down at me like I was something he couldn’t resist. “You’re asking for it.”

I shivered at his words, the rawness in his tone making my heart race even faster. My pulse was pounding in my ears, and I felt a thrill of excitement rush through me. It made me feel like I was losing control in the best possible way. I smiled up at him, my lips curling into something that was part challenge, part desire. “Then show me.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Show me how much you really want me.”

Without a word, his lips crashed onto mine, but this time it wasn’t tender. It was demanding, hungry, filled with everything we’d both been holding back. The kiss was deep, fierce, his hands roaming over me with a hunger I hadn’t seen in him for a long time.

I could feel the way he pulled me closer, closer, until there was no space between us, and I knew this was it. There was no going back now. He wanted to teach me a lesson, and I was ready to be taught, ready to give in to everything he wanted.

Matt pulled my hands over my head and tightened his grip around my wrists as he pressed me further into the bed, his weight following down on me in one swift, controlled motion. As he topped me, I could feel the weight of his presence which was solid, overwhelming, and impossible to ignore. Every nerve in my body was lit ablaze.

His free hand moved quickly, impatient, but deliberate. He wasn’t being gentle anymore. His fingers trailed down my body, skimming over my chest, my stomach, making my skin burn with every touch. I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as he pushed me further into the mattress, his body pressing against mine with an undeniable force.

His hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him, eyes wide, heart pounding in anticipation. His expression was intense, the kind of look that made everything else fade away. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just pure need. He slid his hand down my body, taking hold of my waist, his thumb brushing over the waistband of my sweatpants, his touch sending jolts of electricity through me.

He didn’t give me a chance to think before he was tugging at my pants, pulling them down with a raw, impatient motion. I gasped as his lips moved down on my neck, his teeth scraping against my skin as his hand worked their way up my thighs. I shuddered under his touch, rough and possessive, making me feel like I was completely at his mercy.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” he whispered, but there was no softness in his voice, just a challenge, a dare. His eyes burned with a fierce desire, and I could tell he was barely holding it together. “Tell me if you don’t want this.”

I shook my head, my voice barely a breath as I answered, “Don’t stop. Please.”

A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face, and he nodded as if that was all the confirmation he needed. His hand moved closer to where I ached for him, exploring with no caution, only the promise of a wild, unfiltered kind of connection that I knew would drive me crazy. I arched into him, my body reacting before my mind could catch up, and the intensity between us grew, more electric, more desperate.

There was nothing soft about the way he began to kiss me again. His lips were bruising, his teasing fingers pulling me tighter, with an urgency that left me breathless. I felt completely consumed by him, every inch of my body aching for his touch, for the wild, reckless connection that had always been a part of us.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice dark, and there was something primal in the way he looked at me, something that made me feel both wanted and lost in the best way possible.

I managed to nod amidst the writhing from the delicious play of his fingers. “Yes.” I breathed, my voice trembling with need. “I want this. I want you.”

With that, Matt’s remaining restraint snapped. “On your knees. Now.” he demanded standing up, and I obeyed instantly as I sat up on the bed. Before I could fully adjust, Matt was already moving behind me, sliding onto the bed with a fluid, almost predatory grace. He settled himself against me, his chest pressing to my back as he let out a satisfied hum. I could feel his heat radiating off of him, and it made my body tighten in anticipation.

I finally registered what was happening, we were facing the mirror again. His hands grabbed my hips and began to draw circles onto my skin. I watched in the reflection how I was a panting mess while he looked at me with sheer determination probably coming up with ways on how to ruin me tonight in the best way possible. There was no hesitation in him now, just pure drive.

He didn’t say anything at first, but I could feel his hands moving over me. They slid up my back under the fabric of my shirt, until his fingertips found the bare skin of my stomach. I sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his touch, and just as I thought I might lose myself in it, he spoke, his voice low and heavy with intent.

“Look at us.” he murmured, his voice gravelly with desire. “I want you to see exactly what’s happening. See how I have you, how badly I want you.” His hands shifted, moving to my waist and he tugged me back into him with a force that made my pulse spike. I could feel the press of his body against mine, the weight of him behind me. “Eyes on us only.” he commanded, his voice low and filled with an intense, possessive edge to it as his hands gripped me tighter urging me to face the reflection at all times. “I want you to see how much I fucking crave you. How much you drive me insane. I want you to see this. All of it.”

My pulse quickened at the sight of us like this. This image was not going to leave my mind anytime soon, guaranteed. I could feel his breath against my neck, as his hands slid all over my body.

Matt’s eyes watched as he held me in place, steady and determined. His fingers moved slowly and deliberately, brushing my hair aside and kissing my neck again, the sensation sending waves of heat through me. The image in front of us caused me to let out a whine. Watching the way Matt took me was enough to make me lose my mind.

I could see us in the mirror, my body pressed up against his, desperately grinding to be able to feel him in every way. His hands roamed over me as I surrendered to his touch, my eyes meeting his in the reflection. The way he touched me was nothing short of possessive, but there was a wild intensity in his gaze that made everything inside me burn hotter.

“You’re mine.” he declared, his hands tracing the line of my waist as he continued to guide me, to make me see the way he had me, the way he needed me. “And I’m not letting you forget it.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the mirror, from the sight of him behind me, his hands moving over me with such authority. It was like a constant reminder of what we had, what we shared, what drove us insane. There was no softness now, only the raw, unfiltered connection that we both craved.

Matt moved again, his lips pressing to the curve of my shoulder as he spoke, his words a dark promise. “I want you to see how fucking perfect you are for me.”

The intensity in his voice, in his touch, made my breath catch. But it was the way he made me look at us in the mirror that took me to the edge. He wanted me to witness it, to see the rawness, the passion, the hunger.

“Tell me you see it.” he demanded, his voice a low growl against my skin, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Tell me you see how much I need you. How much I fucking hate that I can’t stop wanting you, even when I should.”

I swallowed, the weight of his words hanging in the air between us, and I nodded, breathless. “I see it.” I whispered, my voice shaky, as I caught a glimpse of the reflection in the mirror again. Matt’s hands roamed over me, his eyes locked onto mine, both of us caught in the heat of the moment. “I see everything.”

Matt’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good.” he muttered, before pulling me closer, forcing me to feel every inch of him against me, to feel how badly he wanted me, how much he couldn’t stop.

In the mirror, we were nothing but two bodies tangled in heat, raw and real. The recklessness, the intensity, it was all laid bare for us both to see.

His hands slid lower, pushing the fabric of my shirt up, exposing more of my skin to his touch, and I couldn’t help the gasp that left my lips. He leaned in closer, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just beneath my ear as his hands continued to explore me in a way that was possessive, urgent, and relentless.

I stared at our reflection and I could barely recognize myself. My face was flushed, my body trembling under his touch, the raw hunger between us reflected in the glass. The tension in the room was thick, palpable, and as he moved against me, guiding me to a rhythm that was anything but gentle. I could feel every inch of my body burning for him, the need growing, swelling, until there was nothing else but us.

The last piece of clothing was peeled off of me and thrown off the bed. The tension, the heat, everything in the room seemed to intensify as we came together skin to skin. His hands skimmed over the newly exposed areas of my skin, touching me like he was marking his territory, claiming me in ways that made my head spin. Every movement felt like it was too much and not enough at the same time.

I felt completely exposed, held in place by his hands, his body, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on me in the reflection. He was so close, the heat of him making me tremble with desire. “Fuck, just look at you.” he groaned, his lips just brushing my neck, sending a shiver down my spine as my eyes fell closed. His hands gripped my hips hard, pulling me back into him with a force that made my eyes shot open. “Eyes open, remember?” he whispered, his voice rough, demanding. “You’re going to watch me take you how I want to.”

Matt’s hands moved with intent, his fingers grazing over my skin like he was marking every inch of me, every curve, every soft, trembling part of me that responded to him. My body was completely alive under his touch, each sensation driving me wild, and I couldn’t escape it. His lips, his body, the heat between us, everything blurred into one, and the reflection in the mirror only made it more intense.

I could see in the mirror the way his eyes darkened with something darker than just lust, something deeper, something more possessive. The way his jaw clenched, how his body seemed to take on a life of its own as he held me, as if the two of us couldn’t be separated by anything now. My breath caught as he moved me again, pressing me harder against him, both of us becoming consumed by the moment.

His hands slid upward, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my bare stomach before moving higher, teasing me with soft, deliberate touches. My breath hitched as his palms cupped my breasts, his touch firm yet reverent. I tilted my head back against his shoulder, my eyes fluttering shut, but his low voice brought me back.

“Eyes open, remember?” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. His voice was rough, filled with a mix of admiration and control. “Look at yourself. Look at what I see.”

I opened my eyes reluctantly, meeting our reflection in the mirror again. The sight made my pulse quicken. His hands were moving slowly, as if he was memorizing every curve, every inch of me. His gaze was fixed on mine in the mirror, which made my skin flush and my heart race.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my neck as his hands continued their maddening exploration. “God, the way you feel under my hands. Like you were made just for me.” he groaned as his hands continued to move, roaming lower and then higher again, tracing over my skin like he was sculpting me.

His fingers faintly grazed my sensitive nipples and I shivered, my head falling back against him. My breath hitched, my body arching slightly into his touch as his thumbs continued their teasing. 

His hands cupped me roughly as he pulled me back into him. The way he massaged the swells of my breasts in a tantalizing way had me whimpering defeatedly, and the glass reflected every moment of it. With one hand I reached behind and held onto the nape of his neck, in an attempt to anchor myself as I slowly spiralled away, as the other held onto one of his arms that had me currently at his mercy. His touch was so consuming, it felt like he was imprinting himself on me, marking me, claiming me in ways that was far from soft and gentle.

He wasn’t holding back anymore, and neither was I. Every inch of us was a mix of hunger and heat, of something wild and unrestrained, like we were both completely untethered in this moment. The reflection showed how much he was losing himself in me and how I was losing myself in him.

I could feel myself slipping, and yet, I didn’t want to pull away. If anything, I wanted more. I needed more of him.

“Fuck…” Matt whispered, his voice trembling now with that same rawness that had been building since the moment he touched me. His hands moved lower, pressing into me with an almost desperate urgency, his chest rising against my back with every heavy breath. “I can’t get enough of you.”

His words were pushing me further to the edge, electrifying every part of me. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I could only feel him, feel the way he gripped me, the way he held me against him, the way he claimed me. And I couldn’t stop myself from giving in.

“See how much I need you? Even when I can’t stand you.” he said, his breath warm against my skin as he kissed along my shoulder. “You drive me fucking wild. You make me lose control in the best way.”

All that came out of me was a pathetic breathy cry in response to his confession, because I couldn’t form any words right now even if I tried. I could only focus on how mercilessly his fingertips were pinching and rubbing my now erect and sensitive nipples.

“You’re fucking perfect for me.” he went on, his lips close to my ear. “I hate how much I can’t stop needing you. Even when we’re tearing each other apart.”

“I- I can’t anymore.” I shook my head desperately not being able to handle it anymore. “Please… I need you so bad.” I begged him.

“I hate how perfect you are.” he said, his tone darkening as his hands slid lower, exploring every inch of me calculatively. “How every part of you drives me insane. Your body, your skin, the way you sound when you can’t take it anymore…”

“M- Matt.” I stuttered, my voice trembling as I watched him in the mirror. My hands gripped the sheets trying to steady myself as I felt him swipe against my swollen folds. But the way his hands moved, slow and teasing, never giving me enough to satisfy the ache building inside me made it impossible to hold on.

He smirked, his lips brushing against my shoulder as his hands continued their torturous path. “Look at you fall apart so beautifully.” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower as he made sure to neglect my aching bud just so he could torment me for a little longer. “Completely undone. Completely mine.”

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment before I forced them open again. The sight of us in the mirror, the way his hands roamed over me, the way his lips hovered over my skin, was almost too much.

“I can’t…” I gasped, my voice breaking as one finger pushed inside me, slowly pumping me, his pace steady, as if he was intent on driving me over the edge.

“Yes, you can.” he said, his tone firm but filled with dark amusement. His hands tightened slightly on my hips, pulling my legs further apart. “You can take it. Because you love this. You love what I do to you.”

I couldn’t deny it. The way he touched me and the way he looked at me. It was overwhelming, maddening, and yet I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t think I could bear it if he did.

I watched, wide-eyed, as his fingers moved expertly, almost effortlessly, sending jolts of pleasure through me that made my head spin. My body reacted to every touch, every movement, and the reflection only made it worse. I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his body clenched as he held me, the way his chest heaved with every breath. I felt like I was drowning in the heat of it all, but there was no escaping.

“Matt, please.” I pleaded, my voice trembling as I met his eyes in the mirror again. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make my breath catch, and I knew he wasn’t finished with me yet.

“Say it.” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. His hands moved slower now, teasing me with a maddening precision that made my body tremble. “Say you love how I touch you. Say you love how I make you feel.”

I let out a shaky breath, my heart pounding as I tried to form the words. “I love it.” I finally whispered, my voice barely audible.

He smirked again, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

And as another finger entered me, teasing and tormenting me, I knew he meant it. I couldn’t look away from the mirror, couldn’t escape the intensity of his gaze, the way he made me feel like I was completely his. Completely consumed. Completely undone.

Matt’s other hand caressed my curves, igniting sparks with every touch. My body was trembling under his control, caught between desperation and surrender. In the mirror, I saw the reflection of myself which was blushed and breathless, as my chest rose and fell rapidly whereas Matt looked so much more composed and steady behind me, with his eyes never leaving mine.

His hand then slid down to my thighs, his grip firm as he pulled my legs further apart so I could stop clenching them close. I could feel the strength in his hold, the tension in his body as if he was holding himself back, waiting for something. His lips brushed the curve of my shoulder, then down my spine, taking his time as if he had all the time in the world all while his fingers continued to pump me. And it only heightened the ache building inside of me.

“Matt, please.” I gasped, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I was feeling. The tension in my body was unbearable, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

He smirked against my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “Please, what?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. “Tell me what you want, baby. Say it.”

I met his eyes in the mirror again, my reflection a perfect picture of surrender. My parted lips trembled as I tried to find the words, but I could only focus on how his fingers felt against my walls. His calculated torture continued, and I couldn’t hold back the shaky cry that escaped me.

“Please.” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I can’t take it anymore.”

His smirk deepened, his hands tightening on my hips as he pulled me even closer. “You can.” he said, his voice firm but filled with dark amusement. “And you will.”

Probably gaining some sympathy for me, his thumb finally attended my throbbing bud, his touch sending a fresh wave of electricity through me. My body arched against him, my head falling back against his shoulder as I let out a soft, breathless moan. The tension inside me was unbearable now, a storm building with no escape.

“Look at yourself.” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper. His eyes burned into mine in the mirror, his gaze so intense it made my heart race. “Look at how beautiful you are. How perfect you are. So needy just for me.”

My breath hitched, my hands gripping the sheets below me as I tried to hold on, but the way his hands moved, it was impossible to focus on anything but him.

“Look at me.” he commanded softly, his voice low but firm. His hand slid up my back, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as he pressed gently between my shoulder blades, making me arch just enough to meet his eyes in the mirror. My breath hitched at the sight.

There we were, framed perfectly in the reflection. My hair was messy, cascading over my shoulders, my lips parted as I tried to catch my breath. Behind me, Matt’s eyes were locked on mine, intense and smoldering, his chest rising and falling with the same rapid rhythm as mine. His hand gripped my hip now, steadying me, grounding me, as if he could feel how close I was to unraveling. The reflection captured every detail of us, the way I was on my knees, my hands gripping the sheets, and Matt right behind me working through me. But all I could do was whimper at the sinful moving image in front of us.

Matt’s hands moved with purpose, one sliding up to my stomach, pulling me closer against him, while the other remained between my legs buried in me, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through me. My body trembled under his hands, as he pushed me further and further to the edge.

“Don’t look away.” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine. His eyes never left mine in the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze made it impossible to do anything but obey.

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers clutching the sheets beneath me as he moved more quickly now. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to drive me to the brink and keep me there, hovering just out of reach of release. It was maddening, overwhelming, and yet, I didn’t want it to stop.

“Matt.” I gasped, my voice barely more than a whisper. My head tilted back slightly, but his hand on my stomach tightened, guiding me back into the position he wanted.

“Eyes on the mirror.” he reminded me, his tone firm but filled with dark promise. “I want you to see yourself. See what you do to me.”

My eyes flicked back to the mirror, and the sight was almost too much. His jaw was tight, his lips slightly parted as he watched me, his own desire evident in the way his breathing quickened.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less intense. His fingers moved with purpose, his touch bringing me closer and closer to the edge. “So perfect. Do you feel that? Do you feel how much I want you?”

I couldn’t answer. Words failed me as the pressure inside me built, my body trembling under his touch. My reflection in the mirror told him everything he needed to know from my flushed cheeks, my half-lidded eyes, and the way my body leaned into his every move.

Suddenly I felt my chest tighten, but it wasn’t just the physical rush, instead it was the overwhelming flood of emotions, the raw intensity of it all. The hunger, the desire, the frustration, the anger, the need. It all mixed into something I couldn’t control. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Tears welled up in my eyes, emotions bubbling up from deep within me as the weight of everything we’d been through hit me harder than I expected. I was shaking now, but it wasn’t just from desire. My mascara smeared, the black streaks starting to run down my cheeks as the tears broke free. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it. The overwhelming combination of wanting him, needing him, and everything else crashing inside me was too much.

I felt Matt’s hands on me, his touch soft but firm as he caught sight of my tears. He stopped for a moment, his eyes moving over my face with something tender in them, even though his breath was still coming hard and fast. His thumb traced the path of my tears, gently wiping away the mascara that had smeared across my cheeks. His fingers lingered, his touch almost reverent, as if trying to memorize every part of me in this moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration and something darker, something deeper. His words seemed to crack through the haze of everything, and for a second, everything felt surreal. His gaze never left mine as his hands moved to gently cup my face, his thumb wiping away the last of the tears. “You have no idea how much you drive me insane. Watching you like this… watching you fall apart… fuck, you have no idea how much I need you.”

I couldn’t respond, the words were caught in my throat. It wasn’t just the physical sensation of him from his touch, his lips, and his body which had me trembling. It was the rawness of it all. The way I felt completely exposed, vulnerable yet wanted. The way he made me feel seen, in every sense. Everything I had kept locked away, all the things I couldn’t say, couldn’t express, were being poured out in that single moment. And he wasn’t pulling back. He was letting me come undone, and I could feel him losing himself just as much in me.

“I’ve got you, baby.”  Matt whispered into my ear, consoling me. His lips grazed my neck showing his devotion to me as I tried to catch my breath.

I was shaking, my body trembling from the intensity of it all. The vulnerability, the need, the rawness. The emotions, the fight, and the desire, it was all merging together in a way that felt too much, and yet, it felt right.

“You’re everything to me.” he said, voice rough as his lips brushed against my skin again, his hands moving to hold me tighter. “Everything I can’t stop wanting.”

My breath caught as he pressed into me again, his body against mine, every part of me responding to him, and all I could do was surrender to the moment. To him.

And as the tears continued to streak down my face, I felt something shift. In that moment, as Matt held me against him, his presence overwhelming and his love, despite everything, suffocating me with warmth, I knew that no matter how much we fought, no matter how much we struggled, we were made for each other.

“I can feel it.” he whispered, against my shoulder now, his voice low and filled with dark satisfaction. “You’re so close, aren’t you?”

I nodded again, my breath hitching as his movements became more insistent, more purposeful. My fingers gripped the sheets tighter, my body trembling as I felt myself nearing the point of no return.

“I got you.” Matt said, his voice rough with need. His eyes burned into mine in the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze sent me spiraling. “Let go. I want to see you fall apart.”

And I did. The moment his words hit me, the wave crashed over me, intense and all-consuming. My body tensed, then shattered into pieces, the release hitting me so hard I could barely breathe. My cries filled the room, raw and unrestrained, as Matt held me steady, his hands gripping me tightly, guiding me through the overwhelming sensation.

In the mirror, I saw it all, the way my body gave in to him, the way his eyes stayed locked on mine, watching me with a mix of pride and possessiveness that sent another shiver down my spine. He looked at me like I was his world, like he couldn’t believe I was here with him, falling apart because of him. My reflection in the mirror looked as undone as I felt, my hair wild, my lips parted, and my body trembling under his touch.

As I came down from the high, Matt leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder. Still recovering from the intensity of what we’d just shared, he wasn’t letting go of me… at least not yet.

Matt’s hands gripped my hips firmly as he spun me around, my back now meeting the mattress, causing me to shiver from detaching from his warm body to now laying on the cold bedsheet which heavily contrasted against my heated skin. His mouth crashed onto mine with a force that stole my breath away, and a spark igniting between us once again. As his weight pressed down on me and I felt our bare chests colliding, I arched into him finally getting to embrace him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

His lips moved from mine, trailing along my jaw, my neck, and lower still as he explored my naked body with an unrelenting intensity. My head tilted back, my hair spilling off the edge of the mattress, giving me a disorienting but electrifying view of the mirror.

Through the reflection, I saw him and his dark hair falling over his eyes. His body taut with control as he moved deliberately, his lips and hands worshiping every inch of me. The sight was almost too much, my chest heaving with every sharp intake of breath, my body trembling under his care and command.

“Matt…” I whispered, my voice breaking into a moan as his lips pressed to the sensitive skin below my ribs, making me arch further into him.

He looked up, his eyes catching mine in the reflection, a smirk playing at his lips. “Still watching?” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he kissed his way back up to my chest, his mouth claiming me in ways that made my head spin. “Good. I want you to see everything.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t stop myself from moaning softly, my hands gripping the sheets as he positioned himself above me. The weight of him was grounding, his hands guiding my thighs as he pulled me closer.

“Fuck...” he hissed, his voice raw with emotion as he hovered above me, his eyes locking with mine in the mirror again. “I can’t hold back anymore.”

“I don’t want you to.” I whispered, my voice trembling but certain.

He didn’t hesitate to strip himself of the last pieces of garments on his body. Before I could brace myself, in one swift movement he took me completely, the world seeming to come to a halt. Every nerve in my body lit up, the intensity of him overwhelming me in the best way. I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he began to move, each deliberate thrust sending shockwaves through me.

The reflection in the mirror caught my eye again, him above me, his body moving with purpose, and his jaw clenched as he fought to keep control. The sight of us together, tangled and raw, sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

His lips found my bare chest again, kissing and teasing as his hands smoothed across my body, making me moan his name. “Matt… oh God…” I cried, my voice cracking as he drove me higher and higher, each movement deliberate and unyielding.

“Hold on for me just a bit longer, sweetheart.” he murmured against my skin, his lips brushing against my stomach as he thrusted deeper, his hands tightening on my hips.

My head tilted further back, my gaze catching the reflection of my flushed face, my body trembling beneath him, the way his hands claimed me so completely. The sight was overwhelming, my breathing erratic as I felt myself falling apart under his touch.

He kissed his way back up to my neck, his lips grazing my ear as he whispered, “You’ve never looked more beautiful. Falling apart for me.”

His words sent me spiraling, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. The air became thick with the weight of everything from our desires, our frustrations, and our need for one another. I could feel Matt’s hands on me, his body pressing into mine, his movements rough and yet achingly tender. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper of his breath against my skin only drove me deeper into the madness we’d created between us.

I could feel his body press harder against me, our hips aligning, and the moment was too much. Everything inside me was about to snap. I could barely breathe, barely think as the desire for him overtook every part of me, and the desperate need for release clawing at me with each passing second.

“Matt.” I gasped, my voice broken as I moved with him, the rhythm of our bodies desperate and uncontrolled. “I can’t… I’m-”

He silenced me with a kiss, his lips crashing into mine with a ferocity that only heightened the fire between us. My body tensed beneath him, my nails digging into his back as I cried out his name, the intensity of my release crashing over me.

I felt Matt’s own release moments later, his movements slowing as he buried his face in the curve of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. His body tightened against mine, his grip on me unrelenting, like he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

For what felt like an eternity, we stayed like that, entangled, breathless, and our hearts racing in sync. I could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my chest, the warmth of his body surrounding me, as if he was holding me together, holding me whole.

And then, as the world slowly started to come back into focus, I felt him lift his head, his eyes meeting mine. The way he looked at me, so full of something raw and something deep, it made my heart flutter. He kissed me softly, his lips lingering against mine before he pulled back just enough to brush the hair from my face.

“You’re perfect.” he said, his voice soft now, almost reverent. “You’re perfect for me. I don’t care how much we fight, how much we push each other away… You’re all I want. Always.”

The tears that had fallen earlier now dried on my cheeks, and I realized they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were from everything I felt in that moment. From everything we’d been through and everything we still had to face, together.

I rested my forehead against his, breathing him in, and in the stillness that followed, I realized just how much this man and this relationship had shaped me.

“I love you.” I whispered, my voice trembling with a softness that felt so strange after everything we’d just shared. But it was true. So deeply, so undeniably true.

Matt’s hand gently cupped my face, his thumb brushing across my cheek where the last remnants of my mascara still lingered. “I love you too.” he said quietly, his voice a whisper against my lips. “No matter what.”

fin.

[jjkamochoso]

Rotten Right to the Core

Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Sanemi Shinazugawa x f!reader

Inspired by Charlie XCX’s song “Apple”; Sanemi worries about the traits he’s inherited from his parents…

Warnings: cussing, yelling, mentions of abuse, mentions of blood

[I guess the apple don't fall far from the tree/'Cause I've been looking at you so long/Now I only see me/I wanna throw the apple into the sky/Feels like you never understand me/So I just wanna drive/To the airport, the airport/The airport, the airport]

Each year as Sanemi grew older, he became more nervous to look at his reflection, afraid of what he might see. Would he retain the soft features of his mother? Or would his father’s presence haunt him as he stared into the eyes that reminded him of everything bad in this world? He hated feeling this way. Sometimes he would get so angry that he would break the mirror, desperate to erase the possibility of seeing the ghost of his father ever present on his face. After his rampage would finish, you were always there to dutifully clean up the mess, both physically and mentally. He was your lover, after all; taking care of each other was part of your promises to one another.

Today was one of those days where Sanemi grappled with his self worth.

Thankfully you were home, not having been sent on a demon slaying mission yet. As soon as you heard the crashing of broken glass, you prepared yourself for what was to come. Sanemi was a good husband—a great one, actually—and you knew that he had a violent upbringing. That’s why you never got upset at these outbursts; you couldn’t begin to understand how it felt to see the face of the man who brought your family so much pain look back at you every day of your life. You grabbed a dustpan and a broom on your way to the upset Wind Pillar.

“I’m coming in,” you said quietly, knocking on the door and opening it. You were met with Sanemi gripping the edge of the counter, his knuckles white with fury underneath the layers of blood dripping from his cut skin. The glass on the floor could wait—he needed to be bandaged. You opened the medical kit and dug through for tweezers and gauze. Sanemi stayed silent, still seething. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, ashamed at making such a mess. You didn’t care, though, you never did.

“I’m going to clean you up first and then I’ll get the glass, okay?” you told him, gesturing him to take a seat away from the damage he dealt. You sanitized the wounds on his knuckles before getting to work on extracting the small pieces of glass from the cuts. He barely flinched as you did this, making you frown. He must’ve been extra upset this time. When you started the bandaging process, he finally spoke up.

“I look like him. I hate it.” His voice trembled with fury. “I can’t stand knowing I’ll never be able to escape him.”

You listened intently in case he wanted to say something else, but he went quiet again. You were all done wrapping him up and placed a loving kiss on the freshly bandaged hand.

“You’re not him,” you whispered. “You’ve never raised a hand to me. You’ve never hurt me.”

Sanemi let out a humorless laugh, pulling his hand from your grasp. “Is that the standard for good husbands nowadays? What a joke.”

He abruptly stood, leaving the room. You sighed, knowing it was going to be a long day. You wished you had all the right things to say to him, anything to convince him that he’s not a carbon copy of his deadbeat dad, but you were at a loss. The only thing you could do was let him get his anger out elsewhere and he’d come to you when he was ready. You got down on your hands and knees and began to clean up the glass, careful not to cut yourself. You heard heavy footsteps re-enter the room.

“What are you doing?” Sanemi barked out.

“I’m cleaning up.”

“Would you stop? I can do it myself.”

You frowned again. “I know, I’m just trying to help.”

“Just stop, okay? I don’t need your pity!”

You ignored him and went back to your task at hand. That sent Sanemi over the edge.

“Seriously, get the fuck up. I said I’ll do it!”

You weren’t phased by his raised voice. “And I said I’m helping.”

Sanemi just stared at you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. All of a sudden he stopped, his bloodshot eyes widening at the memory that entered his mind.

His father’s cup sloshed around with his alcohol of choice for the night. In one drunken movement, he spilled the contents onto the floor.

His mother lowered her eyes. “I’ll clean that right away.”

She took hold of the nearest rag and got down on her hands and knees, but his father didn’t care for her kindness, grabbing her roughly by the arm and hoisting her up before throwing her to the side.

“Get up! Do you think I’m some sort of useless child?” he screamed. “I can use a rag you idiot. I don’t need your help!”

“Sanemi? Are you-”

“You’re just like her,” he choked out. “You’re just like her and I’m just like him.”

You didn’t know what memory spurred that reaction but you figured it was a bad one. You reached out to comfort him but he was gone in an instant. You heard the front door slam shut and you knew he would be gone until evening. He couldn’t stand to be in the same vicinity as you during times like these when you reminded him of his mother as he was acting like his father. He couldn’t stand knowing he could never truly rid himself of the tendencies that were passed down from the man he was unfortunate enough to be born to.

[I guess the apple could turn yellow or green/I know there's lots of different nuances/To you and to me/I wanna grow the apple, keep all the seeds/But I can't help but get so angry/You don't listen to me/To the airport, the airport/The airport, the airport/I'm gonna drive, gonna drive all night/I'm gonna drive, gonna drive all night]

Sanemi hurried out the door, desperately needing air and wanting to put as much space as he could between himself and you. He couldn’t believe he let himself get so angry, especially at you. The recollection of his father yelling at his mother the same way he had just done to you was a grim realization for Sanemi that he was following in his father’s footsteps. He picked up his sword and began hacking away, channeling his frustrations into obliterating the training dummy. The more he thought about his previous actions, the more he raged, howling winds swirling around him in an outward reflection of the storm inside himself. He had completely lost himself in his fury, only halting when the dummy was chopped into tiny pieces. The scene in front of him was reminiscent of the one he left inside; yet again, Sanemi proved he only knew violence. He threw his sword away from him, disgusted with his actions, before falling to his knees and shoving his face in his hands. Why couldn’t he have been more like his mother? Calm, caring, loving. She was the light in the perpetual darkness of his father. Weren’t his hands, though calloused and stained with blood (literally and figuratively), capable of handling things with grace and a nurturing touch? Why, instead, was he destined to destroy everything? Or—even worse—was this not destiny in play, but his own choices leading him to blaze through life and hurt everyone close to him? He knew he had the ability to choose love and show the softer side of his personality, he had done it plenty of times in the past. You, his loving wife, had made it easier for Sanemi to follow a more peaceful path, encouraged him to embrace his kinder side, yet he still found himself vexed over little things too often for his liking. It was like vengeance and anger were innate needs, something he couldn’t give up no matter how hard he tried. You deserved better than him; he had made that clear from the very start of your relationship. You didn’t believe him for one second, knowing he had goodness in his heart as he had shown glimpses of his affectionate nature many times. The protective walls he had constructed inside himself were there for a reason but you often broke through them, Sanemi never understanding why you would commit yourself to such a grueling task with no reward at the end (you would disagree as being loved by him was the greatest reward you could ever want). Countless nights were spent by him wondering why you continued to be married to someone like him. He saw no positives for you in your union and when he expressed that, those were the only times it was you who was angry rather than him.

[I think the apple's rotten right to the core/From all the things passed down/From all the apples coming before/I split the apple down symmetrical lines/And what I find is kinda scary/Makes me just wanna drive

I wanna know where you go/When you're feeling alone/When you're feeling alone, do you…]

Sanemi had stayed crumpled on the ground until the sun threatened to dip below the horizon, signaling that nightfall was arriving soon. He gingerly walked inside the house, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that came with his absence. It was dark in every room, save for the few candles you left burning in the kitchen to signal the plate of dinner you had left out for him. Sanemi’s stomach was in knots; he had left you all alone yet you still cooked his favorite food for him.

Some husband I am.

He savored the bites of ohagi as he sat in silence, wondering where you were. Had you finally had enough of him and left? No, you wouldn’t do that without telling him first. You were many things but you certainly weren’t heartless. Worry started settling into him as the sun wasted away. You shouldn’t be out after dark. Sure, you were a demon slayer, but he’d seen the most talented members of the corps slain when they were caught off guard. He gulped down the last of his food and took off in a hurry; to where, he didn’t know. He had no idea where you went when he would storm out. Cussing under his breath, he checked all the rooms of the mansion again.

“Y/n?” he called out. Nothing. Now he was starting to panic. He yanked one of the extra swords from the cabinet in your shared bedroom and tore through the door to the outside. He investigated the surrounding area, yelling your name but getting no response. His mind was scrambled, his breath scattered.

Where could she be?

As soon as that thought hit his brain, he knew exactly where you were.

He found you in the garden.

You were sitting on a stepping stone, your gaze settling on the flowers surrounding you.

“You shouldn’t be out in the dark. It’s not safe.”

Sanemi’s voice, having lost its harshness, made you smile. He was always worried for others and took on such a protective role; how he couldn’t see the positive impact he had, you didn’t know.

“I have my sword,” you replied, not facing him. “And I have you.”

Sanemi’s face burned at his wife’s saccharine tone. He took up a spot next to you, your shoulders brushing together. He wanted to apologize for his behavior today but he didn’t know how to start.

He was his father’s son: brash, unrelenting, unstoppable.

He was his father’s son: he was a coward.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

He furrowed his brow. “Why the hell are you apologizing? I’m the jerk here.” He took a deep breath, looking off into the distance as he tried to articulate his feelings. “I’m… I’m sorry. For everything. Today and in the past. It sickens me knowing the woman I love has to see the man that I hate.”

You reached out to hold his hand and this time he allowed you to, grasping you with a featherlight touch.

“I’m no good,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why you stay.”

He awaited your usual heated response, but it didn’t come.

“Sanemi, look at me.”

You spoke with such authority that he didn’t dare defy you. His white hair resembled the color of the moon, both shiny brightly in the dark of night.

“I love you. All of you. You are not the monster you think yourself to be, not even close. Yes, you have a temper. Yes, you can get incensed on a whim. Those are not the world ending traits you think them to be. You are a good man, Sanemi. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Maybe then you could understand my love for you.”

Sanemi felt his heart thumping wildly in his chest. You always comforted him in ways he never knew possible, but something about tonight was making your sentiments affect him more than usual.

“From what I know, your father would’ve never owned up to his mistakes,” you continued, using your free hand to rub circles on his back. “You’re already a million times better of a man than he ever was.”

“Do you remember when we found those beetles you love so much?” you asked, earning a confused look from Sanemi as he nodded. “You raised the babies into healthy adults. That takes patience and compassion, both of which you have an abundance of in here.” You poked his exposed chest. “How about the time I was so sick I couldn’t stand? You took care of me all day and night, barely getting a wink of sleep yourself because you were so concerned.”

Sanemi did remember all of that.

“I was so scared you were gonna die,” he mumbled. “I don’t think I could live without you.”

“Those situations are what prove how great of a husband, of a person, you truly are.” You squeezed his hand. “Look inside yourself, my love. You’ll see that there’s traits you inherited from both parents. It’s up to you to decide who you’d rather embody, nothing is set in stone or chosen for you. I think you’ll find you take after your mother more than you think.”

Sanemi got up, brushing off his pants before offering you his hands to grab as he hoisted you up, pulling you into a warm hug. He nuzzled his nose into your neck, taking steadying breaths.

“Thank you,” he muttered, his eyelashes fluttering closed as he held you, “for being by my side. For loving me. For believing in me.”

As he stood there with you, cradling your body with his own, he was reminded of a substantially better memory than the one from that morning.

“Goodnight mommy!” Sanemi had said, his little feet sprinting as he threw himself into his mother’s open arms. She was sporting her large, beautiful grin that he missed seeing so often.

“Goodnight, my child,” she responded, burrowing her nose into his messy hair before placing a gentle kiss there.

He smiled to himself, kissing the top of your head.

I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

[onegayastronaut]

Worth Every Risk

Requested by anon: Could I ask for some angst with Emily Prentiss?

Words: 1421

The rain beat relentlessly against the windows of the small Georgetown apartment, its sound a steady rhythm that mirrored the ache in your chest. Emily Prentiss sat across from you at the small dining table, her expression guarded. The tension in the room was suffocating, a tangible force that had grown over the past few weeks.

“I don’t understand,” you said, your voice barely audible over the rain. “You’ve been pulling away, Emily. One minute, everything feels perfect, and the next, it’s like you’re not even here.”

Emily’s dark eyes flicked to yours, then away. She toyed with the edge of her coffee mug, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. “It’s not you,” she said, her voice low and strained. “It’s me. I… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” you pressed, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Be in a relationship? Trust someone? Emily, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here, and I’ve been here, but you keep shutting me out.”

Her jaw tightened, and she stood abruptly, pacing to the window. She crossed her arms over her chest, her back to you. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Loving someone when you know they could be taken from you in an instant. When you know you could lose them because of the job, because of who you are.”

You stood too, your heart pounding. “Then help me understand, Emily. Talk to me. Don’t shut me out and expect me to just be okay with it.”

She turned to face you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ve lost too many people,” she said, her voice breaking. “Doyle, Ian, my mother—I’ve spent my entire life building walls to protect myself because losing people hurts too much. And now… now I’m terrified because you mean so much to me, and I don’t know how to let you in without risking everything.”

The raw vulnerability in her words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you were at a loss. But then, you stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “Emily, I’m not them. I’m not going to disappear. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. But you have to let me in. You have to trust that I’m strong enough to stand by you.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she looked down at the floor. “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. “What if I let you in and something happens? What if I lose you too?”

You reached out, gently taking her hands in yours. “What if you don’t? What if this is the thing that makes everything else worth it? I can’t promise nothing bad will ever happen, Emily. But I can promise that I’ll fight for us every single day, as long as you’re willing to meet me halfway.”

For a long moment, she was silent. The only sounds were the rain and the quiet hum of the refrigerator. Then, slowly, she squeezed your hands, her grip firm but trembling. “I… I’ll try,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll try.”

Relief and hope surged through you, and you pulled her into a tight embrace. She melted into you, her walls crumbling, at least for now. You pressed a kiss to her hair, murmuring, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

But trying wasn’t easy. The weeks that followed were filled with moments of progress and setbacks, like a dance where one step forward was often followed by two steps back. Emily’s demons didn’t vanish overnight, and neither did the doubts that occasionally crept into your mind.

There were nights when she’d wake up drenched in sweat, the echoes of nightmares chasing her. She’d sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, and it would take every ounce of patience you had to coax her back into the present.

“It was Doyle again,” she admitted one night, her voice hollow. “He was… he was coming after you. And I couldn’t stop him.”

You knelt in front of her, cupping her face in your hands. “He’s gone, Emily. He can’t hurt you, and he can’t hurt me. I’m safe, and so are you.”

Her eyes searched yours, as though looking for some truth she couldn’t quite believe. “I’m trying,” she whispered. “I really am.”

And you believed her. But believing didn’t make it easier.

The turning point came on a cold December night, the city blanketed in snow. You’d planned a quiet evening, just the two of you, but Emily had been called into work for an urgent case. Hours stretched into the early morning, and you found yourself pacing the apartment, worry gnawing at you.

When she finally walked through the door, exhaustion etched into her features, you could tell something was different. She looked at you, her eyes brimming with an intensity that took your breath away.

“I thought I’d lost you today,” she said, her voice shaking. “There was a moment during the case where everything went wrong, and all I could think about was you. About how I hadn’t told you how much you mean to me.”

You stepped forward, your heart pounding. “I’m right here, Emily. I’m not going anywhere.”

She closed the distance between you, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and love. When she pulled back, her hands cupping your face, she whispered, “I love you. I’m terrified, but I love you.”

Tears filled your eyes as you smiled, your heart swelling. “I love you too. We’ll figure this out together.”

From that moment, something shifted. The walls she’d built so carefully began to crumble, replaced by a vulnerability that brought you closer than ever. There were still challenges, still moments of doubt and fear, but the love you shared was stronger than the pain of the past.

The winter gave way to spring, and with it came a sense of renewal. Emily slowly began to trust in the stability of your relationship, even as her job continued to throw challenges her way. The BAU’s cases were grueling, and there were nights when she came home drained, her spirit battered by the horrors she witnessed. But you were there, waiting with open arms and a steady presence.

One evening, after a particularly harrowing case, Emily collapsed onto the couch beside you. She leaned her head on your shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. “Do you ever wonder if it’s worth it?” she asked softly. “All the pain, all the loss?”

You placed a gentle kiss on her hair. “I think it’s worth it because you make a difference, Emily. You save lives. And even though it’s hard, even though it hurts, you’re not doing it alone anymore. I’m here with you.”

She tilted her head to look at you, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” you replied. “Just be you.”

As the months passed, you saw Emily grow in ways that filled you with pride. She began to open up more, sharing stories from her past that she’d kept locked away. Some were painful, others bittersweet, but each one was a piece of the puzzle that made her who she was. And with every story, every shared moment, the bond between you deepened.

One summer evening, as the two of you sat on the balcony, watching the sun set over the city, Emily reached for your hand. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her tone serious. “About us. About the future.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What about it?”

She took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “I’ve spent so much of my life running. From my past, from my fears, from… everything. But with you, I don’t want to run anymore. I want to build something. Something real.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you squeezed her hand. “I want that too, Emily. More than anything.”

She turned to you, her eyes shining with a mixture of hope and determination. “Then let’s do it. Let’s build a life together.”

And in that moment, with the fading light casting a golden glow around you, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you and Emily would face them together. Because love—real, unyielding love—was worth every risk, every heartbreak, and every moment of doubt. Together, you would make it through.

[bernardsbendystraws]

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𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆

⚠︎  mdni, smut, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, overall mature themes, and more [ this is made for all parts ]

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

with love and big tits, Rose Toy

©bernardsbendystraws

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Chapter 18: Comfort Zone

Matt’s POV

It broke my heart watching her face scrunch into pain. Era’s house had always been warm and welcoming, but sitting on the couch, watching her confess the complete truth about everything hurt. The once comforting sofa seemed to sink in with the gravity weighing in the room. 

The party yesterday was an absolute disaster. It wasn’t supposed to be. It was supposed to be a moment of fresh air before I told her the truth. 

I sat on the pillowy sofa with Era yesterday. I told Era how I couldn’t keep the secret anymore, even if it wasn’t my secret to tell. I couldn’t keep a secret again, no matter what it was. I had prepared myself to see her eyes flood with tears, rehearsing lines I knew would somewhat ease the undesirable pain that came with the confession. 

I didn’t know what to do now. 

I have to tell her, I know I can’t wait for the ‘right’ moment. There is no ‘right’ moment to say something this heavy. It hurt to see her in pain, I knew it would hurt to see her in even more pain, but she deserved the full truth. 

She deserved to decide what she wanted. 

Even if it meant leaving her behind, watching her body break with sadness for something no one could control. 

She deserves the truth. 

_

Y/n’s POV

My eyes felt sore. My vision was still blurry as my lashes stuck together every time I blinked. 

I didn’t want to believe it, but I did. 

It all made so much sense. 

Era was always the one taking care of mom—taking care of me. 

George would disappear, I never knew where. 

It all made so much sense. 

“--she got better physically. She was supposed to leave the hospital in a week.” Era says.

I remembered. Everything was supposedly getting better—she was getting better. But, a week later it was far from the truth. Her skin was the color of death, her lips faded into the shade of her face. Her eyes screamed hopeless. 

And now I know why. 

I waited patiently as my eyes blurred, focusing on Era’s face. I didn’t need to hear it to know, I already did. But, part of me couldn’t process the thought until I heard it from her lips. 

“George had promised he’d stop. He didn’t…she caught him over and over again. She couldn’t leave him—not with everything going on. She was trying to get better…for you….but, in her note–” Era’s voice breaks as she turns her head towards her lap. 

“---she didn’t feel good enough for anything anymore. She couldn’t take it. She never confronted George again…she pretended everything was fine, letting him hold her and take care of her, even though it was out of guilt. He just thought she was giving him a second chance…she wasn’t. She–” Era squints her eyes shut, gulping loudly. 

My body stiffens as I feel my heart freeze in my chest. Matt’s arm squeezing around my shoulders brings me back to reality as I stare numbly at the ground. 

It was never love.

It was guilt.

“...she, god, she said how she was so tired—she couldn’t do it anymore. She didn’t want you to know until you were older…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I had hoped and prayed that George would finally snap out of it…be a good father.” she says. 

“He doesn’t have a loving bone in his body. I’m so sorry, honey.” she says, barely above a whisper. 

My mom didn’t die from her health issues. 

She died feeling worthless. 

She died from a broken heart. 

I sigh, letting my eyes squint shut as I lean onto Matt’s shoulder. I feel his lips press against the top of my head, his hand grazing up and down on my upper arm with a soothing touch. 

“I…there’s something else we need to tell you.” Matt announces softly. 

My eyes flicker open, confused, as I look up at Matt. My lips part with a loss of words as my gaze darts to Era. She looks at her lap, nodding gently. 

“George…he, um…I don’t know if I should tell you this now.” Era mumbles. 

I lean forward, out of Matt’s shoulder. I run my hands over my face with pure exhaustion as my emotions fall numbly in my chest with a heavy weight. “Just tell me…please.” I mutter. 

Era looks at me, her eyes shifting towards Matt’s with a sympathetic worry plastered on her face. “I don’t know…” she expresses. 

Matt’s fingers dance along my arm, stuttering as he shifts his weight on the sofa. “She…she deserves to know. It’s a lot, but,” his eyes flicker down, meeting mine with a somber sadness. “--you deserve to know.” he finishes. 

I hug my lips tightly together as I let my gaze wander back towards Era. Her eyes meet mine, a bitter tug of her lips appearing as she shakes her head back and forth. 

“He wasn’t trying to get sober for you. He…he isn’t a good person. He’s selfish, manipulative, and he’s just…he’s just selfish.” she says. 

I knew he didn’t love me. I knew he didn’t care about me. I knew too much, too much of things that kept me up at night, wondering why I wasn’t enough. 

My heart slows in my chest as Era peers into my eyes. The bitter sympathy laced in her features as she scrunched her nose. “He’s…he’s dying.” 

He’s dying?

As my mind danced around the announcement, pieces clicked into perfect places. The landscape of the truth made complete sense, a sad blue strained across a canvas of rage and guilt. 

He didn’t love me. I looked like her. I looked like the woman he sucked the life out of, draining her soul of hope. Guilt gnawed on his flesh with every interaction we ever had. The more I grew up, the more I grew into her features. 

I had always been happy to look just like my mother.

But, if I hadn’t, would he love me?

I shut out the thought. The taunting question being shunned with the living fact of his selfish greed performing on a dark stage. 

He wasn’t getting better for me. He was getting better for himself. Nothing I ever did was good enough to make him care—because he simply couldn’t care for anything that showed true love or compassion. 

My mom’s heart laid still in her grave. The gentle pummel against her chest was too much, a pain greater than the years of fighting her own body to live. 

His heart stayed beating. The weak drum in his body created nothing other than a survival instinct, a habit forced by a power greater than others. 

I hadn’t ever believed in god. I had been bitter, cursing the greater power for bringing such heavy circumstances to those who never seemed to deserve it, like my mom. The anger bellowed in my gut through the thick cloud of shock. 

I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve to be strung along, saving the last bit of food for him as he cursed me out, pulling on my hair. It didn’t matter if it was an accident. It still hurt. 

“I’ll give you time to process things, but,” Era walks over, caressing my shoulder as she plants herself on the sofa. Her knee grazes mine as the shift in weight pulls my weight towards her, the side of my body still gently resting on Matt. “--I’m here if you need anything–even if you chose to go to LA.” she says. 

Her eyes pronounce truth with a genuine caring glow. I let my body lean towards her as Matt’s arm falls from my shoulders. I let my arms wrap around her neck in a lazy hug as my limbs rest lifelessly on her figure. A heavy sigh leaves my mouth. As the air falls from my lips, I feel her arms squeeze around me tightly. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice cracking. I feel a damp wetness landing on my shoulder. I hug her tighter, my muscles building courage from her broken tone. “I wanted to be there for you, I really did. But–” a cry leaves her lips, breaking the cloud of numbness as my heart clenches with devastation. 

I inhale sharply, forgetting to breathe as a tear streaks down my face. “--I didn’t know if I was enough anymore. You got so angry–I just wanted to tell you, but I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to help, I hated him so much, I couldn’t stand watching him break your heart over and over again…I couldn’t watch you be her. I couldn’t–” 

“I forgive you. I…” the sniffle escapes as a stream of tears fall into her light blouse. I go to pull away, but her arms tighten. The action makes the loud sob leave my lips. “I love you, I’m so sorry. I–”

“Shhh,” she soothes, rubbing her hand along my back. “--it’s okay, you didn’t know. I love you so much, I—I don’t even consider Hailey to be my first daughter, you know,” she laughs lightly, sniffling. “--I told my husband that when we first started dating. He,” her sudden laugh catches contagiously as I let out a synchronized giggle, hugging her impossibly closer. 

“He had to comfort me so many nights. I would cry and sob for hours, wondering if you were okay, ashamed I had left you….but, I knew I couldn’t take you away from George, it had to be your choice. He is your father. I just–I love you, kid.” 

Era pulls back, letting her hands cup my cheeks. My hands hold onto her wrist as I lean into her touch. Her head tilts as our eyes meet, a laughter escaping in sync as she wipes the wet stains off my cheeks swiftly. 

I always hated the nickname 'kid'.’ It felt like an insult, a constant reminder of him and his harsh words that never seemed to have a purpose except to hurt me. Hearing it fall from her lips seemed to ease honey into the cracks in my heart, mending the sharp pieces back together partially, the pain subtly healing the ache in my chest.

It was barely noticeable compared to the thriving, stinging burn, but I could feel it. I could feel her words taking some of the pain and creating a golden memory worth a thousand words. 

“I know you’re not my mom, I don’t think I could ever call you that….but, you’re family to me, Era. I…I was an angry kid, but I was never angry at you. I was jealous of the time you got to have with her, but,” I sigh letting my eyes wander down to her shining necklace, shame surfacing in my mind. “--I was so upset with myself when I screamed at you. I’ve regretted it every time I’ve seen you.” I say.

My eyes flicker up towards her. My lips tug into a soft pout as I fight against the raging emotion of regret. “I’m sorry.” I breathe out. 

Her hands on my cheeks pull me forward, tilting my head down as her lips press against my forehead. Her chin rests above my head as her fingers caress my head. “I’m sorry too.” she expresses breathlessly. 

As I breathe in, the smell of her home intensifies. The sweet scent of vanilla seems to be expanding from her presence. 

Home.

The word had always been so haunting. I had been trying to make a house a home for years, willing a welcoming breeze of air to create the fresh scent of love and family. 

I didn’t have to anymore. 

My home leaked floral scents from Marylou’s garden, vanilla sugar cookies roamed the sweet smell and filled the entire space. A warm, fresh breeze of spring air drifted through each of the rooms in my mind. Pine and spices clouded the wood panels of the floor. The floor had once seemed so cold, so hard. Now, I wanted to grab a blanket, rest of the wooden planks and bathe in the sunlight from the windows. 

Home was a place in my mind where my heart had found peace. 

The structure itself wasn’t huge, but the walls and paint stored much more than just colors and textures. Memories and emotions were traced into each corner and crack in the floor. 

And a small baby blanket rested on the kitchen table, next to a bowl with a sweet batter inside of it. 

_

Matt’s arms twisted around me as we stood in front of the lake. I could hear the shuffling of the willow branches behind me, Marylou’s greenhouse’s roof peeking over and through some of the trees. The sun was sinking, a golden glow casting on the rippling water. 

The deck creaked from beneath our swaying feet. “I know everything was overwhelming. I’m sorry I pushed so much on you at once, I just, you deserve the truth.” 

I tilt my head upward, seeing Matt’s pale blue eyes looking down at me with intent. “I…thank you, Matt. I really mean it, thank you.” I let out. I sigh, “--the truth hurts less than secrets and lies. Even though it does hurt, I know it will get better—especially with you, out in LA.” I say. 

Matt’s eyes widen with hope before his face falters with a questioning look. “Wait, you don’t have to. Things have changed, we haven’t even gone to visit yet. Let yourself pro–” 

I cut him off, leaning on the balls of my feet as my lips peck against his. My eyes gleam into his, letting him search for the lack of hesitancy in my aura. “I’m sure, Matt. I love you, I love your family, I love Madi…I just, I love making memories with you and I’m ready for new memories, ones I’m not even sure where to begin imaging.” I say, laughing lightly. 

His lips tug into a soft smile as I lean my feet flat on the ground again. “I love you,” he says. He leans forward, letting his forehead rest against mine. “--I love you so much.” he breathes out. 

I bring my hands up, caressing his cheeks softly. My eyes falter to my chipped nails as I feel my lips form into a subtle pout. Matt follows my gaze, pulling my wrists gently to look at my hands. 

He smiles up at me, a tooth-rotting grin apparent on his face. “Let’s go. I got more nail polish colors—ones you’ll love, I hope.” 

He turns around, pulling me in tow. 

My hand in his feels like a mold made from fate. Each step creates a pulsing in my chest, the wounds inside my heart curating together and mending excruciatingly slowly. 

The walk is silent. The fresh breeze continues as we walk into the home, making our way up into his room. I let myself fall onto his bed as he shuffled around the room. 

Although the door is shut, I hear the slight sound of Chris’s voice yelling into his monitor. 

“--fucking bitch! I’m coming after your ass like ants at a fuckin’ picnic, motherfucker.” he says. I hold back a laugh as I see Matt walking towards me with his shoe box of nail polish. 

He sits down on the bed. As he pulls open the box, I gasp at the amount. The once half full box now seemed to be overflowing with various shades of greens and blues, along with a smaller handful of other colors.

“Which one do–”

“Matt! Why’d you get so many?!” I exclaim, cutting him off. 

His eyes swiftly meet mine, falling back to the box as he shrugs softly. “--wanted to get more for you. I love painting your nails.” he explains. 

I fail at fighting back the warm smile that crawls onto my face. “You didn’t have to do all of that, oh my god, thank you. They’re all so pretty.” I say, looking at the small glass bottles. 

Matt pulls up a bottle, a muted, forest green polish inside. My eyes widened at the beautiful color, my hands clasping around the small bottle mindlessly. “Woah, it’s so pretty.” I let out. 

I see Matt smile as I focus on his face. “I knew for sure you’d like that one, or—” he rummages through, the clanks of the bottles echoing in the room. He pulls up a perfect blue, a hue that matches his eyes beautifully. “--this one. Well, or any of them in here, but I knew you’d like these two a lot. Which one?” he asks, holding out the two bottles. 

My eyes flicker back and forth as I question which color to choose. I bite the inside of my cheek, my mind refusing to conclude on a decision. 

“Want both? I could do every-other nail, or whatever you want.” he cheers. 

I nod with a soft grin, holding out my hand. “Do whatever, I trust you.” I say. 

I really trust him. 

_

The wet paint on my nails was drying slowly as we talked. The light laughter echoed in the room as we leaned closer and closer to each other. I laid against his shoulder, laying my hands on top of my bent knees as his hair tickled against my forehead. 

“Thank you, they’re beautiful.” I express. Matt hums, his head vibrating from the slight noise as it rests on top of mine. 

I look at the shiny, damp paint coating my nails. A light, forest green and a cool blue decorate my fingernails, every other nail being painted with different hues. My cuticles were clean, neat of any imperfections. Not a single dent in the paint, completely perfect paint strokes that melted into one cohesive smooth surface on my nail bed.

It felt as perfect as it looked. 

Until I heard his voice in my head. 

Georges’s angry voice slipped in the cracks of my mind, bellowing the happiness into a pit of devastation. 

He would’ve hated this. Nail polish was a waste of money, something so useless that it brought rage to his tone when even seeing the paint on my hands for the first time. 

I had already slowly come to terms, stomaching the fact that my father was no longer my father. He had never really felt like it anyhow.

But something had shifted. 

The once burning rage of anger had clouded me with a taunting guilt. 

A man laying on his deathbed, rotting in his own guilt for years, was being tortured by my anger. 

But I had been tortured by him for years. 

His words, his actions, his everything. All of it was torture, a slim thread that threatened to break at the will of a mediocre river current. It had finally snapped, but at what cost?

Would I turn into a muddled pile of regret and guilt as soon as he could no longer utter the strength to spit the rage into my face? 

Was it selfish to think that way?

“Hey,” Matt’s voice rings me back to reality. “--what are you thinking so hard about? Don’t keep it all in, talk to me. You can’t go through this alone.” he says. 

I bite the inside of my cheek, pulling my head up and off of his shoulder slowly. I look over, catching his searching eyes. I swallow thickly, fiddling my fingers on top of my knees as I stare off at the closed door in front of us. 

“I,” I clear my throat, the words threatening to spill into a fountain of tears. “--I…I don’t know how to feel, Matt.” I confess. 

The lack of response sends my eyes over to his, catching his chest heaving with a sigh. His hand reaches up, caressing the top of my shoulder gently. “Do you want to journal?” he asks, reaching over and pulling his notebook up. 

I look down at my wet nails, contemplating. 

“I, I just think I want to talk to you, but I don’t know how much sense it will make…” I say, my voice carrying a strain of hesitancy. I hear Matt set the book back down on his nightstand, turning his attention back towards me. His hand reaches upward, caressing the back of my hair and rubbing gently on my back. 

“It doesn’t have to make sense, it’s okay.” he says. 

The comfort of his words rolls over my body as I take a deep breath. “I’m so mad. I hate him, I really, really hate him. I don’t want to say goodbye, I don’t even want to look at his face. I–” my voice gets caught in my throat as I blink back hot tears. “--I’m sick of this. I just want to heal, move on, but I feel so much guilt….I mean, what if I hate myself for never telling him I forgive him, Matt?” I ask, shifting my gaze to meet him. 

His somber eyes melt into mine. He opens his arms, but I hesitate, looking down at the shiny nails. “Hey,” I look back at him. “--I’ll fix them if I need to, they’re almost dry.” he says. 

I shake my head. “I don’t wanna get any paint on your–” 

My words strain from the sudden motion. Matt’s arms tightly enclose around my body as I freeze, gently putting my hands on his back and pressing him closer. The hot tears swell, foggy my vision. 

“I don’t care, just let it all out, I’m here for you.” 

His words seem to break the will of holding back. The hot fountain of tears falls from my eyes, spilling down on his shirt as I clutch tighter onto him. 

“You’ll be okay again, I promise. I know it doesn’t feel like that right now–but, I promise you, you will be.” he whispers gently, his palm caressing the back of my head as his other hand pulls my back closer to him. 

The loud sniffle echoes as I try to catch my breath. “How…how do you know that? What if it’s–what if it’s not?” My voice wavers with uncertainty and sadness. 

“--because you’re you. You’re so unbelievably strong. Look at everything you’ve gone through–don’t give up before you get to experience all the good in the world. I promise you, I will do my best everyday to show you how deserving you are of good things, okay? I’ve never broken a promise in my life, well…” he trails off as I let out a sniffle, laughing lightly. 

“Yeah, you did promise you wouldn’t read what I wrote in your journal.” I say, reminiscing on the memory. 

His chest rumbles with laughter against me. I feel him pull me impossibly closer, leaning my head against his as he sighs out. “I know, but I had to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry about breaking a promise, but I’m not sorry about doing it.” he says. 

I feel him pull back slightly, his lips pressing against the side of my head before he brings me back into his tight arms. “I’d break any promise if it meant keeping you safe.” he whispers. 

My heart melts at the words, finding the security and warmth in his voice that I had searched for endlessly for years and years. The honey flowed effortlessly from his lips as the ache in my chest seemed to dull with a relieving sigh. 

“I love you.” I state. 

Matt clings onto me tighter, making a soft squeeze fall from my lips. “Sorry,” I laugh at his antics as he releases some of the tension in his grip. “--I love you….so much. I…do you want to come with me actually?” he says, pulling back to look at me. 

I nod, looking at him with a questioning gaze as he stands up and offers me a hand. I slide my hand into his. He reaches down, pulling out a foreign object from his nightstand drawer and shoving it in his pocket.

“What’s that?” I question. 

He shrugs, shaking his head with a small smile. “You’ll find out, come on.” 

He tugs my hand as he opens the door to his bedroom. As we walk through the house, Chris’s small curses echo with frustration, making me let out a small snicker. I make a mental note to tease him for it as our footsteps continue. 

After slipping through the backdoor, the sunset comes into view. A pale blue fading into an orange paints the sky beautifully as the vibrant, spring grass surrounds the familiar dirt path. 

As the lake comes into view, I let my eyes gleam at it with a soft love for the place. Matt tugs my hand, our pathway clambering to the blooming willow tree. I smile as I watch him walk in front of me, guiding me as he inserts his arm through the tangled branches. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” he motions with a nod of his head. 

My pulse quickens, but not with fear. The once daunting branches now only brought excitement. I wasn’t scared of getting pricked by a thorn, I knew I was safe with him. 

I step through the void, hearing the branches shake as he drops them behind himself. I turn around, seeing him reach into his pocket. He clenches something in his fist, sitting on the ground and patting the dirt with patchy, thin grass next to him. 

“What are you planning?” I tease, sitting down. 

“We never carved our initials into the tree. I want that memory with you.” he states. 

My lips form into a slight pout at his promising words. The object in his hand flicks out as he fiddles with it, a small pocket knife blade coming into view. 

I look towards the rough bark, admiring the text carved in the middle of the tree in a heart. 

BE MINE? 

I smile at the memory, bringing my attention back to the present as I hear him start the chisel away at the wood. 

As he draws one straight line down, I place my head against his shoulder. He stops his actions, smiling softly at me before digging the knife carefully through the wood. 

Time passes beautifully as he continues to draw into the bark. The night breeze crawls, replacing the sunset with looming stars peering through the willow tree. The last glow of sunlight bellows just above the horizon, disappearing more and more with each passing second. 

My eyes gleam lovingly at the sight of our initials carved into the tree as he switches the blade closed, shoving it in his pocket. 

“You didn’t even let me help.” I point out. 

He shrugs, wrapping an arm around me as we both stare, admiring the art decorated into the wood. “I didn’t want you to get hurt at all, this wood is very splinte-prone, sweetheart. Trust me, not your comfort zone.” he mentions. 

I laugh, leaning into his side as his arm squeezes around my shoulders. “You are my comfort zone, Matt.” I whisper out. I hear his breath stutter from his mouth, bringing my head up. My eyes meet his, a pure love oozing from his pale blue eyes as the stars reflect in his dilating pupils. 

“I love you.” he states, pulling up his other hand to caress the side of my jaw. 

I lean into the touch, letting my eyes close with bliss. 

Everything is going wrong, chaos is curated in every corner of reality. 

Not here, not with him.

My envy, my fears, my anger. 

Everything, even my sadness fades as our eyes meet. 

Everything will be okay. 

The thought in my mind is spoken in his voice. 

With adoration, I let my hand reach up, brushing back his hair and leaning closer. Our forehead met as my eyes stayed glued on his. 

“I love you.” I say back. 

His hand on my jaw wraps around, gently titling and bringing my face towards his. Our lips meet, a dance of love creating passion between each movement. His lips envelope softly around mine, my breath hitching in my chest as I chase his movements. 

He hums against my lips. A soft smack of our lips echoes as he pulls away, leaning his head against mine. “--love you so much.” he repeats. 

I take the words in, watching his eyelashes blink. I shiver as they brush against my own. The tickling sensation sends us both in a fit of soft laughter. I lean back into his shoulder, the moon the only source of light with the stars peering through the tree branches as we both admire the two letters with a small heart in between. 

My eyes flicker upward again as his warmth radiates onto me, contradicting the cool breeze. 

BE MINE? 

The larger heart stands above the new design. The old memory–not being replaced, but added to the new. 

Everything will be okay. 

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