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monzabee · 9 months ago

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the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?”

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.”

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–”

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?”

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?”

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.”

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.”

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone.

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.”

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?”

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment.

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!”

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.”

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?”

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–”

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–”

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.”

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?”

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.”

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?”

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!”

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover.

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!”

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?”

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.”

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?”

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...”

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?”

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers?

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?”

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?”

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?”

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?”

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.”

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.”

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?”

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.”

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?”

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?”

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.”

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?”

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach. But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to [email protected], but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.”

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.”

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?”

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?”

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.”

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.”

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?”

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?”

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.”

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?”

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.”

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?”

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!”

“I know you don’t,” he nods.

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!”

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.”

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.”

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.”

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.”

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up.

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littlelovelunette · 1 month ago

Note

heard someone say reqs closed on 20th so figured i'd shoot my shot. was too nervous until now.

could you do kinda mean ambessa or sevika (or both) x reader but with like a lot of overstim / punishment? love your works so much you're so talented <3

⋆˚꩜｡ Sevika: Overstimulation Fic

⋆˚꩜｡ Ambessa Medarda

Contains smut, fingering, breast slapping, pussy slapping, mentions of belt whipping, overstimulation

It had been hours, or so it felt like. Ambessa had been torturing you relentlessly dragging out each and every wave of pleasure until all you could plead for was just one orgasm. Just one. "Please." You whispered, your voice shaky from the pleasure that almost blended into pain. Ambessa slapped your breasts making you wince.

"Hold it." She snapped at you making you let out a prolonged moan of despair.

"I need to, Ambessa, please." You begged, rutting your hips up pathetically wanting some friction on your pussy. "Goodness, my love, you're so slutty." Ambessa sighed, shaking her head before two long, thick fingers rubbed your slit and sunk inside. You gasped, hips raising off the mattress as you grinded against her fingers needily.

"Need to cum, need to cum." You muttered breathlessly as you continued your motions.

Ambessa chuckled. "You wanna cum, huh? Well, I guess, if you're so desperate..." She didn't finish her sentence, fingers curling inside you causing you to clench around her digits. "More, 'Bessa, please!"

Ambessa chuckled at your pathetic pleas but didn't respond with words, her fingers starting to move on a very hhgh pace, enough to instantly make you feel the knot tightening in your lower tummy. You gasped, fingers clutching her shoulders as your hips raised off the bed. "I'm gonna cum! Ambessa, can I cum, please?"

Ambessa gave you a curt nod, you came all over her fingers with a loud whine but what you didn't expect was that her fingers didnt stop. She continued her relentless assault on your poor pussy.

"I can't cum anymore, I'm too sensitive, stop!" You tried to squirm away. Ambessa tutted before she pulled her fingers out of your pussy leaving it strangely empty and landed a rough smack on it.

You cried out in pain, legs instantly shutting in instinct as you whimpered right after. "That hurt..." You looked up at her with your teary eyes, "What was that for?"

"And you just earned yourself five more. Now spread those legs and take it like a proper slut." Ambessa said, not coldly but firm enough for you to know she was very serious.

"But..."

The words faded on your tongue and you reluctantly opened your legs back up, Ambessa aimed another hit on your cunt causing you to flinch and hiss in pain. "Hurts..." you sniffled.

Ambessa didn't stop and delivered the four last smacks efficiently enough so it didn't hurt more than necessary. She rubbed your now reddened pussy, "Aw, my sweet child, you've done well and I'm proud of you."

Ambessa rubbed you for atleast a few more minutes before she pushed her fingers back inside. You whimpered.

"Oh, come on, you've been so good, don't you want me to give you a reward now?" Ambessa asked in an almost sickeningly sweet voice.

You knew acting out meant more pussy slaps but you weren't sure if you'd be able to take it consciously at least so you pleaded your case. "B-but I'm so—"

"Ah-ah-ah-ah, I'm gonna stop you right there," Ambessa said with a smile, "You complete that sentence and you get the belt for being ungrateful."

"I'm sorry... please, reward me..." you said softly, staring up at Ambessa with puppy eyes. Ambessa's firmness softened at that and she slowly rubbed her fingers back into your slit. Her pace was now faster than before, "Oh, oh, Ambessa! I'm sensitive!" You cried out, legs trembling.

Ambessa chuckled and shook her head, continuing her ministrations. She didn't stop. Not for the next hour and a half at least. By the time she did stop, you were a shaky mess and barely could even comprehend what was happening.

Your eyes closed. Ambessa walked away.

Your eyes opened before closing again and the next moment Ambessa was hovering over you, cleaning the arousal from between your legs.

"You okay, my sweetheart?"

"Mhm..."

gif by @arcanegifs

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cressidagrey · 6 months ago

Text

Holy Ground - Prologue

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?)

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel had always liked Starfall.

Even he could enjoy one night a year where they danced and were merry…where they pretended that everything was just fine.

Just that this year…he couldn’t quite manage it.

Feyre had invited Lucien.

A year after that catastrophic Winter Solstice.

And for the very first time, Elain…Elain seemed not just willing but genuinely happy to converse with her mate.

*Keep away from her,* Rhys had repeated his order that morning, making it very clear what he wanted his spymaster to do. And Azriel…well, he had acquiesced.

Of course, he did.

Nobody had even noticed when he had slipped away…Nobody had wanted to notice. Why should they? They were all content...they were all happy.

Mor's mating bond with Emerie had snapped just weeks before and that had...everybody was so very pleased for her.

*You are not going to ruin this for Mor,* Rhys had snapped into his mind. *She has been through enough.*

Azriel wasn't going to ruin it.

So he pretended that everything was normal. And then he disappeared silently, and launched himself off the balcony and went flying. He didn't need to think when he did that. Even the shadows kept silent.

The night sky was a velvety black, speckled with countless glittering stars.

Azriel loved to fly, loved the rush of the wind buffeting his body, the exhilarating feeling of power and freedom. He soared high into the sky, basking in the cool breeze on his face.

At least he had this .

As a child it was all he had wanted. And now...now it was...now it was seemingly the one thing that gave him something close to peace. The last few green sparkling streaks on the sky...Skyfall was nearly over, once again.

He basked in it for a little while. Until he felt the scratch of Rhys' mental claws against his walls.

*Azriel,* Rhys' voice was harsh, sharp, demanding. *Where are you?*

* Out. * Azriel answered simply. * Flying. *

*Come back,* Rhys ordered with a sigh. *Look, I get it. You are angry at me.*

Azriel didn't even bother answering to that, swooping lower and then pushing higher again, revelling in the cold night air.

*Elain and Lucien are figuring things out,* Rhys continued.

* Good for them, * Azriel replied, his tone still bland. * Is there anything else? *

Rhys let out an exasperated breath.

*Azriel...I am sorry,* his brother apologised. *Be angry at me all you like. This would have only ended in heartbreak for you anyway.*

*That should have been my decision to make,* Azriel's voice was cold, curt, brooking no argument.

Rhys sighed. *Not if the political ramifications could have upset an already strained peace,* Rhys snapped. *Be reasonable, Azriel.*

* Are you done? * he asked Rhys drily.

*Azriel... * Rhys' voice was exasperated. *Fine. Be angry with me, if it makes you feel better,* his brother snorted. *If you want to throw a tantrum like a child, be my guest.*

Azriel gritted his teeth. This was not a tantrum. *Great. Thanks.* he shot back at Rhys nonetheless.

*Elain is happy, Azriel,* Rhys said softly. *And you should be happy for her.*

* Fine, * he said, voice toneless. * I am happy for her. What else do you want from me, Rhys? *

*For you to stop sulking,* Rhys replied. *And to come back to the Party.*

*No,* Azriel said simply, making another loop in the sky, feeling the wind rushing past him.

*Azriel,* Rhys growled, his temper shortening. I mean it.

*I think I'll go to that pleasure hall near the harbour instead,* Azriel said, his voice cold. * After all, if I want to fuck somebody, I should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, right? *

*Azriel!* his brother snapped, clearly irritated. *That is enough.*

* What? I am just following your orders, High Lord, * Azriel gave back icily.

*You sound like a petulant child.* Rhys snapped.

* Go back to your party, * Azriel said drily. * I'll be just fine. *

Rhys let out a huffing breath. *Fine. Go and pout some more.*

Azriel ignored his brother, closing the connection and feeling his walls snap back into place.He would pout some more. Thank you very much.

Azriel flew higher, ignoring the party, ignoring everything. He pushed his wings faster, harder, revelling in the wind, in the silence, in the stars above him.

The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat, pulsing in his ears, matching the beating of his wings as he flew. He flew and flew and flew, until his muscles ached, until his wings felt heavy.

It was nice. He liked it. He loved it, in fact.

There was a reason he loved flying so much. It was freedom, it was a rush, but most of all it was quiet.

He did go back to the House of Wind…even when he had no plans to go back to that party. He would go to his room and pout some more. Maybe write some more reports.

Do whatever the High Lord expected the Spymaster to do.

He landed one one of the many, many balconies, recognising the Priestesses’ herb garden with a start.

"Spymaster."

Azriel froze for a heartbeat, closing his eyes, cursing mentally. He had wanted to come back unnoticed, to slip in silently. But apparently he wasn’t the lucky.

One of the Priestesses was sitting on the balcony’s ledge. He wasn’t scared that she was going to jup, simply because the balconies were spelled to prevent exactly that.

Sitting there, wrapped in a thick knitted blanket, with dark brown hair reached her waist was Irena.

Clotho’s right hand. The one in charge of seemingly all the paperwork that involved the library. All the bureaucracy went over Irena’s desk, all the accounts and acquisitions…

She was the daughter of one merchant of the midlands, married off to another richer merchant as soon as she had been barely old enough.

Azriel had met her for the first time two centuries ago. There had been a string of disappearances of young girls in the surrounding areas and his shadows had very quickly found the culprit.

Azriel had killed her husband…before he could kill Irena. Her husband had had a taste for violence…his young, beautiful wife had been one of his long-suffering victims.

Azriel had brought her to the library. He hadn’t really thought that she would bloom here as she had…hadn’t thought that a girl raised with a silver spoon in her mouth would be content with in the library. But she was.

And Irena turned out to be one of those scarily efficient people that could do the job of three people. In two hundred years, she had actually managed to make the House of Wind cost Rhys nearly nothing in upkeep anymore. Thanks to the gardens of the priestesses that kept them in fruits and vegetables and herbs…some of them sold to the vendors in Velaris, some turned into creams and potions in the stillroom, that were also sold…the library was just one thing the priestesses did. Some preferred the stillroom or the gardens or even needle work, knitted sweaters that were handed out to the needy in Velaris.

She had done that. Had bloomed and flourished here.

"Irena," he finally brought out, his voice hoarse.

She turned to face him for the first time. She had just grown more beautiful over the years…with long dark hair and dark doe eyes sat in a delicate face.

But all of that didn’t matter anymore. The moment their eyes met...suddenly everything changed.

His priorities were rearranged. All he cared about anymore was her. Was the priestess wrapped in her wool blanket sitting on that balcony ledge…

Irena.

She was his mate .

" Oh ," she breathed, her brown doe eyes widening near comically large.

Azriel just stared at her, feeling as though even the world had stopped breathing.

His mate .

His mate was sitting in front of him.

Irena .

Irena was his mate.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

They just stared at each other for a long, long time. He stepped closer to her, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, her soft lips against his. He wanted to pull her close...he wanted...

But Azriel didn't reach out. he didn't want to scare her. Didn't want to corner her. So he simply leant next to the railing a little bit away from her, still staring at her. "I..." he stuttered, trying to come up with he perfect sentence to tell his mate.

"I...I didn't expect that," Irena whispered.

"Me neither," Azriel said quietly, still slightly breathless, the information slowly sinking in.

"But it's not... unwelcome ?" Irena offered next.

"Absolutely not," Azriel said immediately. "I mean..." he said. She looked so small, sitting there on the ledge, wrapped into her blanket. One delicate shoulder poked out of it, only covered by white, near translucent cotton. She must only be wearing her nightdress, he realised suddenly.

She looked…so young right at that moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, still staring at her, a soft, tender feeling spreading through him.

His . She was his .

Irena closed her eyes with a heavy breath, before nodding hesitantly. "I just....this was..." she said slowly, not daring to look at him. "It was unexpected."

"For both of us," Azriel said quietly, trying to read her expression. Was it...was she happy? Was she upset ?

She nodded, and then bit her lip. "I..." she started and his eyes lingered at that small, plump lip of hers, wishing that he would be the one biting it.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly and he instantly snapped his eyes back up to her face. "Sorry?" he echoed, frowning, because...what was she apologizing for?

"I mean," she continued, her dark brows knitting together as she bit her lip. Oh dear god, Azriel had never wanted to be a lip so much in his life. "I... I don't think I'm what you were expecting ."

Azriel took a breath, ready to assure her that he was positively delighted at the prospect of her being his mate but the words didn't quite leave his lips because...

"Are you dissappointed?" he managed, his hands clenching around the railing. He was scared what her answer would be.

She finally looked at him. Looked into his eyes and Azriel felt the world slow down for a moment, felt his throat tighten as she searched his expression, searching for something.

Whatever she was searching for, she seemed to find it though because she let out a sigh of relief, her lips quirking into a small, self-depreciating smile. "No," she said honestly. Azriel's breath caught at the Genuity on her face. "No, I'm not. But I...I don't know what...if I can ever give you..." Irena said weakly.

He shook his head. "We have time," Azriel promised her fiercely. All the time. They could figure this out at their own pace.

"Time," Irena echoed softly, looking towards the vast, twinkling night sky, the stars reflected in her eyes.

She looked back at him for a moment, and he could see an almost helpless expression in her eyes.

"I...I don't want to disappoint you,” she said quietly.

"You couldn’t," Azriel whispered, still staring at her, at the beautiful face of his mate. "Believe me, you never could disappoint me."

She gave him the tiniest smile. She didn't believe him, he knew that. Regardless of how ridiculous it was. She deserved more than him. More than scarred and battered and broken warrior.

"I will never...I will never force you," he promised her softly. "I will never..."

She nodded, but Azriel still saw something like relief flash over her face.

It broke his heart. "You are a good male," she whispered.

"No. I am not," Azriel immediately disagreed, because he knew he wasn't. He couldn't even begin to name all the things he had done, all the horrors he had committed.

He had killed her husband. That was just one of the things on his long, long list. “You deserve better than me,” he said weakly.

"You are my mate," Irena murmured softly. "There is nothing better."

"I...have...killed people," he protested. Killed her husband too. though he did think that that male deserved it.

"You did," she agreed. "You are a warrior. A protector. You were the one that saved me" she said quietly.

Irena took a deep breath, and then, slowly, reached out, touching his scarred fingers, running small, delicate fingertips over the back of his hands, and Azriel froze, completely still, hardly able to breath as she slowly traced the scars on his skin.

Her touch was light, but searing, making his skin tingle.

He slowly turned his hand, catching her fingers between his, squeezing gently as he intertwined their hands.

"I will never force you. I will never lay a finger on you. Whatever we do in the future, is your decision," he swore.

She stared up at him, the stars reflected in her eyes, her cheeks a faint pink.

Beautiful . Azriel thought, mesmerized and completely enraptured.

"I believe you," she whispered and Azriel's breath caught.

From her...that had been hurt so much...to hear that...it was...

"I will protect you," Azriel promised fiercely and her breath hitched as he lifted her hand, carefully, gently pressing his lips to the tips of her fingers. "I will protect you with my life."

She smiled at him then, a real smile, and Azriel felt as though his heart might stop. He had thought her beautiful before, but now, with her face illuminated in all its delicate beauty by the starry night sky...she was breathtaking .

"I...I will need some time to adjust," Irena said softly. Azriel just nodded dumbly, still a little star struck by her smile. "I...I haven't..." Irena said and she turned her head, looking out into the night sky, her hand still in his.

She hesitated, clearly struggling for words, and Azriel felt his heart seize up in his chest. Had he overwhelmed her? Had he pressured her?

"I haven't been with anyone in a long time." she admitted quietly. Irena didn't look at him, but Azriel was still looking at her, taking in her soft, almost angelic features, the slight blush on her cheeks.

He swallowed."I understand," Azriel whispered, and he did. He understood her hesitation, her uncertainty. And he would be patient...he would wait for as long as she needed.

"But...if you wanted to...you know where to find me," she said softly.

Azriel felt as though he was dreaming. He had found his mate, his beautiful, incredible mate, and she had welcomed him, wanted him even, and

Breathe . He told himself as he tried to calm the hammering of his heart. Breathe .

And slowly, carefully, he nodded, his fingers still interlaced with hers. "I will come to you," he said, his voice husky. "Whenever you want me too."

She was...a gift. A gift he didn't deserve but would treasure always.

Slowly...and so, so very carefully, Azriel stepped closer to her, still holding her hand, before lowering himself slowly down to sit next to her on the ledge. And this close he could sense just how much smaller she was than him, could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell her scent.

Poppies and something sweet and warm like…apple blossoms maybe?

Azriel wanted...gods, he wanted to kiss her.

But he didn't. He just held her hand, trying to memorize every small detail of hers. The curve of her cheek, the soft blush on her skin, her nose, the full lips.... The tiny flecks of gold in her eyes that reflected the stars above them.

She was breathtakingly beautiful

For a moment Azriel forgot where there were, forgot the cold air around them. For a moment there were only the two of them on this ledge, beneath the stars and a soft night sky. And it was...he felt peaceful .

It wasn't a feeling he had a lot. But here, on the ledge, his hand in hers, he felt at peace. And when Irena slowly rested her head on his shoulder, Azriel could feel nothing but utter contentment.

His heart swelled with affection for her, and he carefully rested his cheek against her head, taking a deep breath.

This was real. She was his mate.

She was truly, truly his.

His .

And nobody knew. Nobody had a clue. He could keep her all to himself.

And selfishly...that felt really good.

Nobody was going to have an opinion about them. Nobody needed to know now.

He wanted to keep her a secret. Gods, he wanted to.

She let out a soft, content sigh, her head still resting on his shoulder, and Azriel smiled to himself.

Notes:

If you liked this fic, then kudos, comments or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #Holy Ground

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tteotlma · 7 months ago

Text

Unspoken

to everyone he's the indestructible wolverine, to you he's just logan —

Bf!Logan/Reader (3.5kw)

a/n: I’m kinda over smut rn.. It requires too much thinking rn and I just want some love so…

tw: mild sexual content, suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, mild language, domestic fluff

---

Everyone wonders how exactly you managed to bring the bad boy home to mom. Okay, not exactly, but close enough. When you started showing up around Logan, everyone was thrown for a loop.

"This is Y/n," he would introduce you for the first time at a group outing. He unknowingly blocked you from his table of teammates, so you put a hand on his arm to move him over.

Smiling brightly at the group, you introduced yourself as his girlfriend. Scott and Jean were stunned, while Ororo just smiled. She moved, took out a seat beside her, and patted it. You'd look at Logan, and he'd give a curt nod before saying he was going to get you both a drink.

As he left, he placed a small hand on your back, and you smiled at him before he walked away. Settling beside Ororo, you made yourself comfortable.

"Alright, alright, now tell us the truth," Scott huffed, stuffing his face with the complimentary peanuts in the middle of the table.

"I'm sorry?" Your eyebrows squeezed together, making Scott chuckle.

"So you're really his girlfriend?" he asked, while Jean gave you a careful eye.

"It appears that way, doesn't it?" You turned away just in time to grab your drink from Logan, taking a sip before looking back at Scott.

Logan had told you a lot about Scott and their complicated relationship - a sort of "I have to like you because we're family" kind of thing. You'd never held any resentment towards Scott, but you were aware that sometimes it could seem like he thought less of Logan.

Scott didn't say anything further, instead continuing to munch on peanuts and occasionally cracking jokes, flashing you his award-winning smile. The group settled into casual chit-chat, with Logan's body pressed beside yours despite sitting in separate chairs.

His arm slung around the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally brushing against your arm - a subtle reminder that despite all the people in the bar, you could freely focus on whatever, knowing he had you.

As the night wore on, stories and laughs were shared, the alcohol doing a good job of loosening everyone up, especially you and Logan. You were still at a point in your relationship where everything felt fresh to the outside, so the idea of PDA was still nerve-wracking. Granted, you and Logan had touched each other a lot, but that was always behind closed doors. In public, Logan preferred to be more of a guard dog, always standing over you wherever you went.

It never bothered you. In fact, you relished the fact that Logan never left your line of sight; he made you feel protected and special. He never pushed your comfort level, and vice versa. You were acutely aware of Logan's character flaws, and mixed with the fact that it had been years since you'd dated anyone, it was nice not having to force the physicality between you two - it came naturally when it wanted.

Like right now, the comforting atmosphere and lightheartedness had you leaning into Logan's warmth. Your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, and his arm slipped off the back of the chair to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in. His hand lightly tickled your side as you absentmindedly ran your nails up his denim-clad thigh, the repetitive motion and feel of the micro-grooves beneath your fingers keeping you grounded.

You tried paying attention to the conversation, but each time Logan laughed, your whole body would shake along with his, and the deep rumble of his laughter would erupt from his chest - a sound you wished you could melt into.

"So why are you with Logan?" Jean asked, her cheeks flushed as she stared between you and Logan, watching the way his fingers played with the fabric of your shirt.

You ripped yourself away from thoughts of your boyfriend and tried to focus on the question at hand. "I'm sorry?" you said, having heard the question but unsure how to answer.

"Why Logan?"

You shifted in your seat to stare at the beefy man beside you. He looked down at you, a small smirk on his lips.

"Why Logan..." you repeated, pondering how to put into words the way this man made you feel.

How do you even put into words the way this man makes you feel? As mentioned before you hadn’t dated in what felt like forever but with Logan everything fell into place.

Everyone at the table probably assumes that Logan would be the most dismissive lover ever, a taker not really a giver but oh boy were they wrong.

To you, it felt like you were the center of his universe.

Whenever Logan would spend the night, you’d always wake up to an empty bed. At first Logan would run out of your place as soon as the sun would hit but one morning when you thought you were alone you slipped into one of Logan’s shirts you had lying around and when you pad to the kitchen you find the giant man surrounded by a rush aroma of coffee. And it’s been like that ever since.

Whenever Logan stays over he’s always up before you. The smell of coffee wafting throughout the apartment coaxing you out of bed. Once in the kitchen there’d be Logan in all his morning glory, shirtless with sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips, pouring the hot liquid into your favorite mug knowing you’d never say no to it.

He doesn't ask how you take it, he’s never had to. He just places the mug softly in front of you as you sit on a stool and watches you take a sip with a small smile.

Placing the mug down, you return the smile, and like clockwork Logan rounds the counter, turns your chair, and places himself between your legs. Your hands find their place at his side as he holds your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss on your lips. These quiet morning moments are just one of the many things you cherish about your life with Logan.

But it's not just the gentle moments that make your relationship special. Logan's protective nature extends to all aspects of your life together, including the more practical ones.

There have been a few times you've come home thinking someone's broken in. Loud clanging could be heard as soon as you walked in. You grabbed an umbrella from beside the door and stalked quietly toward the sound. When you finally turned the corner down the hallway, you noticed the bathroom light was on. With the umbrella held tightly, you stepped closer to the bathroom. There you found Logan tinkering under the sink, the clanking sound coming from the metal against the pipes. He was muttering to himself, brows furrowed in concentration, his muscles constricting beneath his dark blue shirt.

“My handyman.” You tease, discarding the umbrella and leaning against the door frame watching him work.

Without looking back at you he says “Someone’s gotta do it, darlin’.” You let out a small laugh, before walking away to get him a glass of water. When you come back he’s finishing up.

He wipes his hands with a towel, and takes the glass from your hand.

“My hero.” You say, finding your spot against the doorframe, smiling up at him, eyes filled with adornment for the man in front of you. He just pulls you in close and kisses your forehead.

“Can’t have you dealin’ with this kind of thing.” He says.

“Oh but sir,” You feign innocence, a small smirk growing on your lips. “I don’t get paid until Friday,” You hook a finger in his belt loop giving it a tug. “However, shall I repay you?” You cock your head to the side, and Logan quirks an eyebrow before playing along.

“Didn’tya know? I take other forms of payment.” His voice is low as he grabs your hips guiding you backwards. You laugh as he quickly shuffles backwards into your room.

The both of you stumble onto the bed, and Logan’s weight presses against you just enough to make you feel deliciously suffocated. His eyes are filled with mischief as he hovers over you, hands resting on either side of your head.

“Oh my, what form of payment were you thinking of?” You ask, voice playful but becomes breathless as he leans in to nose at your neck, lips lightly brushing against the soft skin of your neck.

He chuckles slowly, “I think y’already know sweetheart.”

Before you can say anything he catches your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, making it clear how he plans to collect.

His weight grounds you, as the teasing is forgotten, replaced with a slow electric pull of desire. Logan’s hand skims all over your body, gentle but firm, reminding you that you’re his in every way that counts.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Now, ‘bout that payment.. Don’t think that was enough, princess.”

You bite your lip, giving him a coy smile as your fingers slide down his chest. “Well, I’d hate to leave a debt unpaid, Sir.”

Logan leans down to brush his lips against yours, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Then you better make it worth while, buttercup. I don’t do all this hard work for nothin’.” He teases.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down. “Oh don’t worry. I always leave a generous tip.”

With a grin, Logan kisses you again, deeper than before. His hands continue their exploration as the playful banter gives way to something more intense, and heated. And just like that, all thoughts are replaced with only the two of you tangled up in each other, lost in the moment.

While these passionate encounters are exhilarating, they're not the only moments you treasure with Logan. In fact, your favorite kind of moments are often much quieter, born from the shared fatigue of long days and the comfort you find in each other's presence.

Your favorite kind of moments would have to be the days Logan comes over after a long day, the kind that left both of you feeling drained by the time the moon came over the horizon.

You’d flop onto the sofa as soon as you’d get home, letting the tension ease away from your muscles when five minutes later Logan opens the door, which you left unlocked for him.

Without saying a word he flops beside you, causing your body to follow the cave of the cushions and melt into his side. You wrap your arms around his neck and he snakes his arm around your waist, heavy hand resting on your hip squeezing lightly.

“Hi Baby.” You whisper, caressing his face. He looks down at you with hooded eyes and gives you a small smile.

“Hi,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a soft, lazy kiss before pulling back and resting his head against the back of the sofa.

You hum contentedly, your arms tightening around him for a moment, the tenderness between you growing. Logan shifts beneath you, his large hands easily grabbing your legs, guiding them to rest over his lap. With a bit of maneuvering, he ends up leaning on his elbow, his arm still wrapped protectively around your waist, while you’re stretched out across the sofa, your legs draped over his, your bodies intertwined in the most comforting way.

He’s partially laying down now, with you tucked securely against him, and the gentle weight of his arm across you feels grounding, the two of you perfectly melted into one another.

“How was your day?” you ask softly, fingers gently caressing the back of his neck. Logan doesn’t respond right away— he instead lets out a low huff and buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“Awe, the poor kitty.” You tease, patting his head lightly. Logan grunts, but the hint of a smile plays on his lips as his grip tightens around your waist.

“Yeah, yeah.” he mumbles, clearly too tired to give much of a response. You smile, allowing yourself to soak in the warmth of him, but after a moment, the thought of washing the day away crossed your mind.

You run your fingers through his hair one last time before sighing. “I should go shower,” you say, gently pulling away from him. Logan lets out a gruff dissatisfied grumble as you move to sit up, his arm still draped around you.

“Stay here,” he mumbles, a hint of a pout in his voice as he watches you sit up.

You chuckle softly, stretching as you stand and walk toward the bathroom. “You could always come with me…” you say casually, your back still to him as you head down the hallway.

Logan’s eyes follow you, and he huffs, pushing himself off the couch. “You know I’m not saying no to that.”

Before long, you’re both under the warm spray of the shower, the day’s exhaustion melting away. Logan stands still, eyes half-closed, letting the water run down his body. His skin glistens under the spray, rivulets tracing the lines of his body. You breathe in the steamy air, heavy with the scent of soap and Logan's own earthy musk.

Squeezing shampoo into your palm, its crisp herbal aroma cuts through the steam. Your fingers slide through Logan's hair, now slick and dark as ink. He leans into your touch, a low rumble of pleasure vibrating in his chest. His normally guarded expression softens, the furrows in his brow smoothing as your fingertips work small circles against his scalp.

Logan leans into your touch, his broad shoulders loosening as your fingers work their magic. The taut muscles beneath his skin gradually unwind, melting under the warmth of the water and the gentle pressure of your hands. You can feel the subtle shift in his posture as he surrenders to the soothing sensation, his breath deepening and slowing in response to your careful attention.

The steam swirls around you both, creating an intimate cocoon that seems to exist outside of time. You take your time, savoring the quiet vulnerability of the moment, your fingers moving with deliberate care through his hair.

"Mmm," Logan murmurs, his voice husky and low. "S'nice."

His eyes flutter open, meeting yours through the misty air. The look he gives you is unguarded, full of a tenderness that makes your breath catch. You continue your gentle massage, feeling the last remnants of tension melt away beneath your touch.

You guide him under the spray, watching as the water sluices away the soap, leaving his hair gleaming. Your hands trail down to his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him. The shower continues for a few more minutes, the rhythmic pattern of water creating a soothing backdrop.

Logan steps out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist. He grabs your plush robe from the hook and helps you slip it on. The soft fabric feels warm and comforting against your skin, still flushed from the hot shower.

Logan's hands linger for a moment on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Cozy?" he asks, his voice soft. You nod, enjoying the simple comfort of the moment.

As you make your way to the bedroom, Logan settles on the edge of the bed while you rummage through the dresser. You pull out one of Logan's well-worn t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, slipping them on. The familiar scent of him envelops you, a comforting mixture of cedar, a hint of motor oil, and something uniquely Logan.

Despite countless cycles through the washing machine, his scent clings stubbornly to the fabric. It's as if it's woven into the very threads, resistant to detergent and hot water alike. You breathe in deeply, savoring the aroma that's quintessentially him - a scent that speaks of strength, of safety, of home.

The shirt hangs loosely on your frame, soft from years of wear. As you pull it over your head, you're wrapped in an invisible embrace, Logan's presence tangible even in this simple piece of clothing.

Turning around, you catch Logan absent-mindedly rubbing the towel over his head. You can't help but smile at the sight. "Here, let me help," you say, fetching the hair dryer from the bathroom.

You plug it in and step between Logan's legs, gently taking the towel from his hands. The dryer hums to life, and you run your fingers through his hair as you work, watching it become soft and fluffy under your ministrations.

"Look at you, all fluffy," you tease gently, running your hand through his hair.

Logan's eyes crinkle with amusement. In one swift motion, he pulls you close, guiding you to sit across his lap. "You're one to talk," he rumbles, nuzzling into your neck.

You laugh softly, your fingers still playing with his hair. It's so soft now, and you can't resist running your hands through it again and again. Logan lets out a contented sound, almost like a purr, leaning into your touch.

Gradually, you both shift to lie on the bed, limbs tangled comfortably. Logan's arms are wrapped around you, holding you close like you're the most precious thing in the world. You continue to stroke his hair, feeling the last bits of tension leave his body.

The room is quiet now, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing. As sleep begins to tug at the edges of your consciousness, you feel utterly safe and loved in Logan's embrace. His breathing deepens, and you know he's drifting off too.

Few moments out of thousands flash through your mind as you sit at the bar, Jean's question hanging in the air. "Why Logan?" The memories of tender mornings, playful banter, quiet evenings, and the feeling of absolute safety in his arms all blend together, forming your answer.

You look up at Logan, who's watching you with a mix of curiosity and affection. The warm glow of the bar lights catches the amber flecks in his eyes, making them seem to smolder. You can feel the solid warmth of his body pressed against yours, his familiar scent - a mixture of leather, pine, and something uniquely him - wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You turn back to Jean with a soft smile, the taste of your drink still lingering on your lips.

"It's hard to put into words," you begin, your voice warm with emotion. The words catch in your throat as a flood of memories washes over you - Logan's rare, genuine laugh that always makes your heart skip a beat; the feeling of absolute safety in his strong arms; the tender moments in the quiet of the morning when he thinks you're still asleep. You open your mouth, ready to pour out your heart, but then you catch yourself. The intimacy of those moments feels too precious to share in the bustling, noisy bar.

Instead, you simply say, "Let's just say, when you know, you know."

The conversation moves on, but you can feel Logan's eyes on you, sense his curiosity. As you both leave the bar later, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside, Logan gently tugs your hand, pulling you close.

"What were you really gonna say back there, darlin'?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. His breath, warm and smelling faintly of whiskey, ghosts over your cheek.

You look up at him, taking in the strong line of his jaw, the softness in his usually stern eyes. For a moment, you consider telling him everything - how he makes you feel, why you love him. But something holds you back. Maybe it's the lingering effects of the alcohol, or the magic of the nighttime city around you, but instead, you stretch up on your toes and press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I'll tell you someday," you murmur against his mouth, feeling his lips curve into a smile. "But for now, why don't we head back to my place."

Logan's arm wraps around your waist as you walk to his truck, and you lean into him, savoring the moment. The unspoken words hang between you, a promise for the future, as sweet and intoxicating as the night air.

---

a/n: quick! somebody call a dentist -- i think my teeth are rotting,,

1K notes · View notes

harrysloveboat · 2 years ago

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John B’s Girl | JJ Maybank Fic

Summary: JJ Maybank was absolutely screwed. So detrimentally screwed. John B was going to actually end him. The blonde haired surfer had a thing for his best friend’s girl, (Y/N) Cameron. And when JJ notices something he shouldn’t, all bets are off.

Word Count: 6.8K, (18+, Minors DNI, Mature Audience)

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, choking, semi-public sex, cheating, dirty talking, thigh riding, car sex, mention of toys, alcohol, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), degrading, Dark!JJ, JJxReader, John BxReader, Cameron!Reader, sprinkles of fluff included, I think I might’ve made Dark!John B too by accident, etc.

Please read warnings before continuing. Really tempted to make a second part if anyone wants it! The ending kinda makes me think a second part is just necessary. Mostly unedited.

Constructive criticism and requests open on my page. I write about Harry, 5SOS, Outer Banks, and TSITP! Thank you x

It’s been an entire week of watching (Y/N) Cameron unraveling before JJ’s blue eyes.

JJ has no idea how the girl got herself into this predicament, and he certainly doesn’t understand how he’s been the only one out of his friends to notice what’s been going on between John B and his girlfriend.

Actually he does understand why, but he refuses to admit it. How could he ever come clean about the way his body ached when she was near? Or how his heart thumped out of his chest when she would accidentally brush her bare skin against his during hot summer days on the H.M.S. Pogue. Even the tender way she’d brush loose strands of blonde hair from his forehead in passing would send shocks of electricity to every corner of his body.

But this annoyingly long week was painfully different from the rest.

(Y/N) had done something on Monday.

JJ wasn’t sure what, but he knew something she had done had sent John B off the deep end. Because for the whole day, John B wouldn’t spare a kind glance her way. No matter how many times she’d initiate a conversation, nudge his arm, intertwine their hands, or even sit on his lap, John B was an absolute rock. His responses were short and curt and his eyes would focus on anything but her.

The next day is when John B really enacted his revenge.

(Y/N) was doing everything she could to get back into his good graces. That morning, she woke up early to stop at the grocery store. Buying so many things that JB’s fridge was fully stocked when she returned.

Breakfast was her first attempt. There was bacon crisping in the oven, sending a mouthwatering aroma to every Pogue in The Chateau. She was scrambling eggs on the stovetop for everyone, with a smaller pan on the side that contained eggs with cheese. By the time the toast was popping out of the toaster oven, everyone had come alive with growling stomachs.

JJ and Pope had dug right in, surprised but also very wonderfully pleased by the first home cooked meal they’d had in a while. Kie had given her a big hug first, requesting that (Y/N) wake her up next time to lend her a hand. But even as John B was served his favorite eggs with cheese for just him, he gave them the tiniest nibble, before pushing his plate away.

“Not hungry,” he shrugged moving on to a refreshing morning shower instead with even as much as a sympathetic glance back.

Kie and Pope were lost in conversation, but JJ had been a witness to it all. More than anything, he noticed the way her entire demeanor deflated as John B stalked off. The excited glint in her eyes was extinguished in haste. The crinkles at the corner of her eyes vanished alongside her smile. His heart squeezed at the sight. JJ had wanted nothing more than to scoop her up in his arms and pepper her with millions of soft, thankful kisses. Nothing she could’ve done would’ve been enough for JJ to evoke the same reaction out of her if she was his.

That afternoon, however, is when things took a completely opposite direction.

Energized by their hearty breakfast, they all decided it was a perfect sunny day to do some fishing and swimming. Kie and Pope had canonballed into the clear blue water when it happened. JJ was grabbing a beer from the cooler as (Y/N) sat next to John B who was laying on a towel, perched at the front of the boat.

She had leaned down to speak something privately into his ear. Except he shook his head, face devoid of any emotion. “You’ve been a bad girl (Y/N). You don’t deserve any attention,” his hushed dismissal was the only thing JJ managed to catch. The pout on her plump lips and furrowed eyebrows told JJ everything he needed to know. The gears clicked together in his head almost too quickly.

(Y/N), out of all people, had a praise kink that John B was currently exploiting.

The realization went straight to his crotch, his swimming trunks horribly constricting for the entire day. It made so much sense. She aimed to please, getting so excited when someone was happy with something she did. He honestly felt foolish for not catching on sooner. If someone asked JJ if he jacked off to her sweet voice begging him to destroy her in his imagination, he would immediately deny it.

By Wednesday, JJ was hooked.

There was no conversation that could capture his focus for long. Every moment of his time was devoted to her. The urges JJ had to rush to her and be her new source of comfort were becoming overwhelming but so was the need to bend her over any flat surface. He was on the verge of being diagnosed as bipolar with the amount of times his mood would swing. Every disheartened expression or bite of a lip had JJ physically twitching to remedy her frustration. But anytime she’d sit on John B’s lap and search for forgiveness with gentle touches and suggestive whispers, JJ would have to excuse himself to hide the new semi he was sporting.

(Y/N) and John B cuddled together during a movie night on Thursday evening. JJ thought for a split second that (Y/N) had finally wormed her way through John B’s walls. It didn’t even make sense to him how his best friend had managed to hold out for so long when she was completely irresistible. A little part of him was curious to know what she had done that originally started this. What had angered JB enough to drag this punishment out? By the relaxed tone throughout the movie, he figured he’d never get the answer to that question. At least he’d be able to go back to regular conversations instead of consistently excusing himself to the restroom.

But of course, JJ never seems to catch a break.

Kie had disappeared from the living room at some point to sleep in the guest bedroom. Choosing a comfortable bed over morning neck pain. Pope was on the couch, mouth drooling onto the cushion that was propped under his head. JJ had been basically forced into the sleeping bag on the floor with one measly pillow. Aside from the discomfort of the wooden floor, he had managed to fall into a deep sleep. There was a sudden noise lulling him awake.

Soft, harsh pants stirred him from his dreams.

The movie was still playing on the screen, but the volume had been turned down to leave background noise. Even with the quiet chatter, JJ heard the distinct, “please John B,” that fell from (Y/N)‘s lips followed by an angry scoff. His blue eyes peeked open, just the slightest bit, only to feel like he could pass out from what was occurring on the single seat next to the couch.

(Y/N) was sitting on John B’s thigh, hips grinding down at a rapid pace to chase her end. All the while JB was focused on the screen not paying any mind to the horny girl riding him. JJ could see the wet stains on her cheeks, beads of sweat falling down her forehead. She was moving with urgency, obviously close to her orgasm.

“Can’t believe you have the audacity to beg me to touch you after what you did,” John B muttered furiously in response to her. The only crack in his hard interior that let JJ know he was affected by (Y/N)’s actions was the tight grip at her hip. His other hand was lazily holding the remote on the beige armrest to exaggerate his disinterest. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry,” she pleaded as her hips faltered. The closer she got to her end, the haze in her mind would betray her. Slowing her movements just as she was on the verge of falling into the abyss and traitorously bringing her back.

He snicked at her, feeling her feeble attempts to get herself off on his thigh. She had wet through her panties hours ago, drenching John B’s thigh and the inner corners of hers. Her apologies were falling on deaf ears. “I’m not helping you. You’re lucky I’m even letting you cum when you’ve been such a bad girl. Sluts like you don’t deserve it.” His filthy words were what did it. Instead of being put off by them, the quickening of her pace and quiet whine that escaped her lips let JJ know that she enjoyed being degraded.

(Y/N)’s movement came to a sharp halt, thighs squeezing around John B as her orgasm washed over her in waves. Her entire body tensed up, face twisting in pleasure. Underneath the over-sized t-shirt her shoulders shook slightly. For the sake of not being caught by the others, it took all her strength to keep the noises at bay while threatening to spill over at any given moment. JJ thinks he might be the one to beg to hear those sounds next. She collapsed against him, scratching at his chest with a small cry when he grinded up against her overstimulated pussy.

JJ didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

He found himself in the shower again hours later, fisting his cock repeatedly until he was cumming harder than he ever thought he could.

Friday night was finally the last nail hammered into his coffin.

The party was booming, every Kook, Pogue, and Touron joining together for an epic get together at the Boneyard. Alcohol was influencing the rager, people dancing around the bonfire with high spirits. They had all ridden in the Twinkie together but gradually dispersed throughout the night. Pope was trying, and failing, to flirt with a brown-haired Touron who was too drunk to understand. She was cute but clueless. Kie was dancing in the crowd with John B, enjoying the music and winding down from an eventful day at The Wreck. She was oblivious to the fact that the nonchalant guy in front of her wasn’t paying a lick of attention.

JJ was leaning against a palm tree, crushing a can of beer in his hand. He had been in a fowl mood all day, snapping at everyone over the smallest of inconveniences. He couldn’t help it, nothing he had done was able to satisfy his persistent hard-on. Any time (Y/N) was within his eyesight, even momentarily, all the blood would rush down between his legs. Every hair flip made JJ want to grab it into a ponytail and tug hard. Inches of exposed skin silently requesting to be marked by his teeth. JJ was so sexually frustrated that he was honestly considering taking some girl home tonight.

The idea was tempting as his blue irises raked through the crowd. There were some good options available. Sophie, his old friends with benefits, had been eyeing him all night. A red haired girl had flirted with him when he retrieved his second beer. Shit there was even a drunk Kook that had been throwing herself at him if push came to shove. Still, none of them were what he actually craved deep in his bones. Subconsciously, JJ found the girl he had been really after.

(Y/N) was seated on a log in front of the fire wearing a white flowy dress that ended at the middle of her thighs. It had two straps at the top that tied behind her neck. She was free of make-up, her natural features mesmerizing JJ even from a distance. Her silky hair was blowing past her shoulders in the soft night breeze.

The fire lit up her face with hues of red and orange. Her head was tilted up slightly, eyes sealed shut. She seemed distracted, mind far away from the craziness surrounding her. JJ’s head shifted to the side in curiosity as he noted the odd behavior. He watched as (Y/N) pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down harshly. Her hands had a death-like grip on the wood below her. Something was clearly wrong.

A surge of worry passed by JJ, wondering if the girl was okay. This week had been rougher on her than any of the other Pogues knew. He was the only one besides John B that was aware of the inner turmoil she was experiencing. This meant, Kie, (Y/N)’s best friend and confidante wasn’t clued into this secret that JJ had unintentionally stumbled upon. There was no way she could know the girl needed somebody. Deciding that he needed to take it upon himself to check up on her, JJ’s legs moved before his brain did.

He took a couple of strides in her direction with no decipherable sentence coming to mind. JJ had to think a little more instead of acting on a whim. He found comfort for his nerves in the red hat being snugly placed on his hair backwards before finally sitting down next to her. “Hey, you okay?” JJ’s tone held more compassion than usual, opting to rip off the band aid. Their normal playful banter was replaced by genuine emotion that JJ was struggling to contain.

(Y/N) didn’t even notice him sit until his voice was bringing her back from the pleasure she was floating off into. Her eyes were dark, filled with lust as they landed on JJ’s. Now that he was actually sitting next to her, able to properly focus and analyze her behavior, the color drained from his face as he became all too aware. Her thighs were pressed together tightly, nails digging into the wood. (Y/N) was breathing heavily, vibrations from the plug John B had inserted before leaving The Chateau were teasing her. Her boyfriend held the remote to the stupid thing and he had been turning it off and on all night. Sometimes she’d be in a casual conversation and have to excuse herself because he’d purposefully turn on the highest setting. Even making her spill a little bit of beer down her chin in front of Kie.

By now, (Y/N) was desperate. She was squirming in her seat, holding back the pornographic moans this device had taken her to. After withholding sex from her the entire week and choosing to insert this new toy he had purposefully disappeared earlier to buy, she was like a rabid animal. The intensity of repeatedly being brought to the brink and then cut off had broken any sense of normalcy she had managed to maintain. The fiery passion in her eyes was undeniable. “I-I’m okay- yeah,” (Y/N) practically squeaked out, one hand moving to crumble the hem of her dress in a fist.

John B was insatiable from where he stood. Although he was well aware of the state he had led his girlfriend into, just the sight of JJ sitting next to her set him off. His hand reached into his jean pocket, clasping the cheap plastic and turning on the max speed with several clicks to the plus sign on the right. It was stupid and idiotic, but the jealousy that flared didn’t let him act clearly.

(Y/N) tried to contain a gasp as her body jumped slightly at the sudden change. She knew exactly what John B was doing. He was marking his territory in front of JJ, who by the look in his face obviously knew what was going on. Without an inkling about how JJ felt, John B was still going out of his way to prove (Y/N) was his. Making her cum inches away from his best friend.

JJ knew it. Saw her eyes roll to the back, her mouth drop open and nose scrunch up. The pleasure overcame her body. The orgasm ripped through her body after being edged for so long. Her toes curled as John B forced her to ride out her high in front of him with no mercy. She was unable to hide the twitch of her thighs. Tears from the pleasure mixed in with embarrassment. JJ was frozen, rock solid in his cargo shorts. His face gave nothing away except his acknowledgment of the situation. The words to describe the hunger he felt had yet to be invented. At the same time his outrage at John B’s intentional deed simmered over.

The tension in the air was palpable with deafening silence consuming them. There was no ounce of awkwardness with the way both of them were stuck in their heads. She swallowed hard, looking away as her bottom lip trembled. Seeing as John B had no intentions of turning it off, only lowering the setting, she chose to retreat. There was no explanation that could hide or sugarcoat the truth. (Y/N) got up muttering an unintelligible excuse before she was disappearing behind the fire with a walk of shame.

JJ’s entire body was hot with adrenaline and need. A primal need to fuck the girl into oblivion was no longer in his control. The pure desire radiating off her body had pushed JJ past the boundary of respect. John B smirking victoriously towards Kie did nothing to aid JJ, only encouraged him to follow in the path that (Y/N) had headed towards.

She had found safety next to the Twinkie, crying freely into the crease of her elbow against the window. The vibrator was still going, overstimulating her yet she knew better than to take it out without being told to. John B had gone too far, giving in to the green eyed monster that veered his head. Her body was almost clinging to the van at this point when calloused fingers ran up the back of her thigh.

The warm touch alerted her to the presence of somebody behind her. (Y/N)’s back arched slightly on instinct, finally getting what she was craving. She felt so depraved, so starved. Just a simple graze had goosebumps spreading like wildfire. “John B- please- I-I can’t anymore. Take it out,” she cried pathetically, begging for some form of release.

JJ groaned at the tone of her voice, so ready and desperate. It was taking all his willpower to not bend her over right now and ram himself inside of her. Without speaking, his hand continued to travel up her thigh painfully slow. In her daze she missed the hesitancy in the touch that would’ve been hasty and quick had it been John B. His eyes were trained on the dress that was hiking up, exposing a delicious set of red lace panties. Precum stained his boxers just from the sight. JJ grabbed a handful of her ass cheek tightly, reveling in the way she pushed her ass out to him and whined.

“I’m gonna warn you right now (Y/N). If I’m the one that takes it out, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’re going to forget what his name is,” JJ growled into her ear, hot breath washing over her hypersensitive skin. (Y/N) recognized the voice immediately, feeling the cold rings that belonged to this particular Pogue cooling her ass through the pain of the grip. Her forehead fell onto the window, a pitiful whimper responding to JJ’s offer. It was wrong, so so wrong. But the bulge pressing into her ass had her eyes fluttering shut.

JJ’s logic had quite literally left planet Earth. The only thing on his mind was her. The fear of rejection wasn’t even present. His hand confidently found a home in the curve of her hip, squeezing it tightly as he ground his cock into her ass pushing her further against the van. They both moaned, any hesitation fully dissipating with the wind.

“Take it out- take it out JJ,” she gasped, his name sounding like heaven as it fell from her lips. His new mission was to hear her scream it. JJ moved with newfound purpose, flipping her over harshly before he crouched down. “Hold your dress up and spread your legs,” the dominant tone of JJ’s voice sent a new rush of slickness down her thighs.

This was JJ, her boyfriends best friend, pulling down her panties in one swift move and licking his lips ready to devour her. “JJ please,” she was so vocal, feeding into his own filthy nature. What really almost made him cum in his black boxers was the sight before him. Her pussy was glistening, wrapped tightly around the softly buzzing vibrator. Her clit was swollen, puckering and aching. He licked his lips, imprinting this image in his brain.

JJ grabbed onto the end of it, teasingly pulling it out of her and back in which earned him a breathless moan. Her hips pushed down against it automatically, chasing the feeling. “You’ve been such a good girl all night, taking it so well,” JJ’s words had her free hand gripping the handle to the door. Without even letting her process it, his fingers were replacing the vibrator which found solace in JJ’s back pocket.

He shoved two fingers in deep, coating them with her previous orgasm in a matter of seconds. JJ nudged every corner, hitting every spot reachable in this position. He moved with skill, determination clear in the way his lips wrapped around her nub and sucked. (Y/N)’s breath was knocked out of her lungs at the sensation. Her jaw slacks from the pleasure as the spark at the pit of her belly grows into an untamable fire. JJ moved like a man who needed this to survive. He flattened his tongue against her clit, the tip poking into the entrance where his fingers were sliding in and out with ease. Finally tasting her sweetness forced a moan to ripple through him and into her.

(Y/N)’s head fell back against the window hard enough to hurt and yet she didn’t feel it at all. All her senses were hyper focused on the man between her legs. Each flicker of his tongue would make her knees go out. She would’ve been on the ground already had it not been for JJ’s hand digging into her thigh to keep her up as well as open. A particular curve of his finger had a high pitched noise tumbling out. JJ didn’t miss a beat, continuing with a new rhythm as he memorized what made her walls clench around him.

“I-I’m gonna- JJ, fuck,” she couldn’t even finish her sentence but he knew exactly what she was going to say. Everything became blurry, her chest heaving from the change in his movements. The muscles in her thighs tense, attempting to close subconsciously but JJ refuses to let them. His fingers dig into her thigh so hard they’ll be bruises in the shape of his hand tomorrow. Her climax was rapidly approaching, knot tightening in her abdomen.

His tongue circled her relentlessly. Everything wrong with what they were doing secretly inflamed her heat. (Y/N)’s mind went hazy from the increasing thrusts of his fingers. The pleasure exploding inside of her in a gut twisting way. JJ watched her face twist from the blissful waves causing her eyes to close. The intensity made her mind go blank as a string of curses were spoken. He forced her to ride out her high by lapping up everything that landed on his tongue. He savored the taste, unforgivingly continuing until her body was shaking from the stimulation.

(Y/N) didn’t even get a break. She was unable to catch a breath with JJ’s merciless assault. Her hand moved from the door to his head, pushing the cap off in favor of grabbing his blonde hair. He finally eased up when he was satisfied, pulling his mouth away and not hesitating to lick his lips. “Taste so fucking good princess,” JJ breathed out while his fingers gradually came to a stop. She squeezed his hair, a whimper coming out. It was hard to believe this was JJ Maybank below her, eyes gleaming after eating her out alive.

He stood up, moving the hand that had left imprints to fist her loose hair and tilt her head up. “Suck it off my fingers,” he demanded. The authoritative tone left her with no option but to open her mouth. Her tongue slipped between the two fingers sucking them clean without breaking eye contact. JJ’s already darkening eyes were pitch black now, hints of blue disappearing at her eagerness.

“You like that don’t you? Sucking your cum off my fingers. Wonder how your little boyfriend would feel if he saw you right now,” JJ taunted her. Tears brimmed the edges of her eyes but her thighs moved to shut. JJ’s knee shot out before they could, grinding up against her overly sensitive mound. He was rewarded with a delicious moan that reminded him of his leaking member that was still trapped. “Say it princess. Whose gonna fuck you and make you cum a second time in a row?” The fingers that were in her mouth moved to wrap around her throat. He gave her the freedom to speak, his forehead dangerously close to hers. Their lips could meet if she moved just a little closer. The curiosity to find out what kissing him would feel like distracted her. The soft squeeze at her throat broke her out of the trance, reminding her to respond.

(Y/N) nodded for no reason, hips pushing down against JJ’s thigh to show how much she still wanted him. “You JJ. You’re gonna fuck me and make me cum again. Please- want it so bad, want your cock inside of me,” the neediness in her tone sent JJ into a frenzy. No imagination could come close to the real thing. His neck shot forward, their lips molding together in a passionate kiss. They moved in sync while JJ’s hand slid down, pulling at the strings of her dress to undo the knot in a swift move. His hand skimmed further down, kneading and squeezing every inch of her skin from her curves to her ass.

She was mewling in his mouth, every caress weakening her. It was hard to feel guilty with the way the rough pads of his fingers ran across her scorching hot skin. Her hands moved to unbutton his shorts falling prey to her desires. “Need it J,” the sincerity is what snapped him back into action.

JJ untangled their bodies to open the Twinkie, taking her hand so that she was standing in front of him and could go in first. Without saying it, he placed his palm at the center of her back. A soft push let her know to get onto all fours on the soft fabric of the seats. The van door slammed shut behind them before he was shoving his clothes off with urgency. A thought lit up like a light bulb inside his head as he finished undressing.

“If you want me to give you what needy sluts like you deserve, you need to answer my question,” JJ stated seriously as his hands tucked under the top of her dress. Now with the strap off, he was able to peel off the dress from top to bottom. The panties that had only been able to reach her mid thigh before JJ lost it, slipped off alongside the dress. Confusion settled into (Y/N)’s expression. Her right cheek was pressed into the seat, only getting a small glimpse of JJ’s face. “I’ll answer anything JJ please,” the apprehension as to what the question could be was drowned out by the throbbing between her legs. The anticipation was eating her alive and he was on an unholy plight to push every single one of her buttons.

JJ smirked devilishly while leaning down to press his bare chest against her back. His cock was standing up, solid from days of built up tension. He slid between her wet folds, earning moans from the both of them. “What did you do that made John B so mad?” He whispered into her ear before resting his forehead on the back of her head. His lips ghosted over the skin at the nape of her neck sending chills down her spine. It took a moment for her to put together what he was saying. The realization dawned on her face, unable to admit what he wanted to hear. JJ’s suspicion grew with the way her breathing stuttered.

“Doesn’t matter J, just fuck me,” she attempted to sway him away from the topic but being told to ignore it only made him more persistent. “Ah, ah,” he tsked in a disapproving tone. JJ moved his hips to continue teasing her, gradually sliding between her lips and get himself wet with all her juices. He’d move so far down that his tip would just barely nudge against her hole and then proceed to slide back. His hands disappeared around (Y/N)’s sides, grabbing hold of her breasts and massaging them roughly. His fingertips found her already hardened nipples, tugging and pulling to get his point across. “You want me to fuck your tight cunt? You’re gonna have to tell me sweet girl. Because I’ll walk away right now.”

(Y/N) whined in frustration. JJ’s attempts to make her comply worked all to well. Her heart was racing with impatience and every nerve ending was shot. She could feel just how long and big he was. It made her tighten pathetically around nothing. She wanted to cry to express the distress she was feeling. His hands played at her nipples, fogging her mind up even further. A high pitched noise waved the white flag as she gave in to his attack. The risk of JJ leaving right now outweighed the shitstorm that inevitably followed the truth. “I flirted with you Sunday night.”

JJ paused, his hope flourishing into fact. What JJ had deemed a concocted idea was in fact more than just a sexually fueled imagination.

(Y/N) walked into the kitchen, hair wet from a recent shower. Despite an exhausting day surfing at the beach, she still managed to walk with a bounce in her step and a smile on her lips. Her attitude was always contagious and distracting. “Hey J, not coming out for the movie?” she questioned, digging into the freezer. All the Pogues were camped out in the living room to watch a new movie while JJ was perched on the counter top with a beer in hand.

He ran his fingers through his hair, watching as she pulled out the last chocolate fudge bar which halted his answer. His eyebrow raised as she whirled around to him. She removed the plastic casing with no rush in the world, before wrapping her plump lips around the bar. JJ’s blue eyes trailed downwards, captivated by the way she bobbed her head up and down in such a suggestive way. Her question was long forgotten with a lick of his dry lips.

“That’s my bar,” JJ stated avoiding a comment on the affect her actions were having on him. He was also technically correct. Nobody else ate the fudge bars except for him. Although, he had been noticing that he was reaching the end of the box quicker than normal. Apparently he discovered the culprit. It was hard to actually take it seriously though, not when he could swear there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. Like she purposefully put on a show for him.

(Y/N) simply tilted her head to side biting her bottom lip. “And what are you going to do about it?” The question was innocent. Yet it sounded so risqué. Like she was tempting him to take it further than that. His muscles twitched to grab her right there. But John B clearing his throat from the kitchen entrance snapped JJ out of whatever that was.

He was too consumed by her lips, her doe eyes, the way her cheeks hollowed around the bar, all of it. JJ had barely noticed John B in that moment. The thought that he might’ve heard or seen anything didn’t even cross JJ’s mind. He just quickly got up and rushed past them to the living room. He had written the whole thing off. It was easier to convince himself that he had probably imagined the whole thing rather than feeding into a delusion where she had actually teased him.

JJ had been so right though. He had read her cues perfectly. Not only had she been flirting with him, but it was also the reason that John B was infuriated. The more he dwelled on the thought, the more his heart thumped louder. They all joked and flirted amongst themselves, John B did with Kie. It was all harmless. So John B getting mad at this moment meant he felt threatened by JJ. Like (Y/N) had given him a reason to worry.

The admission made something snap inside of JJ. A flood of emotions surged forward as the dam he had built to contain them collapsed under the strength of her honesty. He quickly removed his hands from her body to lift himself up. As promised, JJ lined himself up with her slick entrance. Any desire to see her down on her knees would have to be put on hold for next time. There was no way he could put this off any longer. He took just a second to nudge his tip passed the barrier and back to hear the starved whimper that she was unable to hold in. Finding sick pleasure in her shameless need for him. “Please JJ.” Without warning, right after she spoke, he slammed his hips forward. He forget everything except the feeling of being enveloped by velvety tight walls. A loud moan mixed in with a deep groan could be heard from outside the van. He reached deep into her like this, taking her breath away.

The grip around his cock could make him pass out. He muttered an inaudible cuss word, not giving her a second to adjust. JJ pulled out to the tip before shoving himself back inside her and repeating the motion until it grew into a consistent pace. (Y/N) was a broken record of moans and pleas. With every thrust her hips would rut back into him. The anticipation had been replaced with numbing pleasure. Her eyes couldn’t focus on a single thing, completely overwhelmed. His fingers tangled into her hair, shoving her further into the seat.

JJ used the new support to deepen and harden his pace. His hips were jolting into her and sending her forward each time. JJ was failing to hold back, milking every noise out of her sweet lips. The vibrator that was still in the pocket of his shorts that were now located on the floor began to vibrate loudly. JJ smirked viciously, digging into her hip for assistance to ram into her, admiring the way her swollen pussy swallowed his cock in between them. “Do you hear that? John B’s turning up the vibrator while you’re getting stuffed with his best friends cock,” JJ coed before his breath hitched at the tight squeeze his words evoked.

It shouldn’t have turned her on the way it did but she couldn’t help it. Her body reacted before she could. His lewd words reached kinks (Y/N) didn’t even know existed within her. She cried out as his balls slapped against her clit, shooting pangs of intense pleasure up her body. Her legs would be giving out soon, she wouldn’t be able to keep this up. Feeling (Y/N)’s end approaching, JJ fisted her hair and pulled her up against his chest with ease. “Who owns your pretty pussy now (Y/N)?” he panted, his hot breath fanning over the back of her neck at the new proximity.

(Y/N) moaned out loudly as he pounded back into her in this new position. He broke her train of thought before she even had a chance to think of a reply. The hand at her hip smoothed upward, pausing to grope her boob roughly. Her back arched in response with a sharp gasp before he finally landed on her throat. JJ squeezed, digging his fingers into her pressure point and loosening it to remind her to speak. “You JJ. JJ Maybank owns me and my pussy,” (Y/N) yelped hand moving to grip onto the seat while the other reached back into JJ’s blonde locks. JJ growled, increasing his pace when she jumped forward at a certain shift in angle.

Her eyes were glazing over as the fingers at her neck tightened. Their bodies molded together in a matching rhythm. Her hips jutted down to meet every single one of his upward strokes. JJ was using the grip on her neck to lift and slam her back into him. The filthy sounds of their bodies smacking together was the only thing heard in the foggy van. “So fucking tight,” JJ mutters, lips moving to suck a hickey into the back of her neck. Now that he had discovered how close she was with the way her body quivered in his grasp, he wrecked his way inside of her.

Knowing it was a bad idea, (Y/N)‘s head had still tilted to allow him room to mark her. She was a mess of endless mewls and echoed moans, too dazed by the way he was manhandling her. Her end was quickly building, eyes rolling as she fell back onto the curve of his shoulder. His hand left her hair to explore down the middle of her chest. He trailed a finger down her stomach before finally reaching the top of her pussy. His hand cupped her, fingers wrapping around her opening that was still engulfed by his twitching cock. He palmed at her clit, eliciting a loud cry from (Y/N).

“Beg me to make you cum like he can’t,” JJ slowed his hand to show he’d stop in a scarily calm way, making tears spill over from how hopeless she felt. At this point (Y/N) needed the sweet relief as much she needed oxygen in her lungs. “You already made me cum harder than he ever has-,” her breath caught as he dug his palm into her swollen clit at the confession, “I’m all yours JJ- please make me cum.” That was all he needed to apply just enough pressure to leave (Y/N) sputtering. Her eyes went black as the ferocity of her orgasm left her seeing stars. Her entire body writhed from the intensity. JJ groaned at the way her walls tightened around him. She was drifting into clouds of bliss while riding out her high.

It all encouraged him further to his own end. He removed his hand from her beyond sensitive clit to lay her down fully onto her stomach. JJ’s back stayed pressed against her, not slipping out in the slightest bit. With the new position, her walls clamped down on him. He couldn’t refrain from snapping his hips up to bring the unrelenting speed back to life. This time he was chasing his own end, using her warm hole to get himself off. (Y/N) was incoherent under him, utterly fucked out. “That’s it take it,” his hips lost rhythm, “take all my cum,” jerking upwards desperately. He moaned loudly into her ear, thick ropes of his cum painting her insides.

She shuddered feeling him stop as deep as he could go, his cock throbbing with every drop her clenching pussy squeezed out. They were both panting, the temperature in the van was absurdly high. His sweaty body gave out, hiding her naked one under his. She found the weight of it comforting in her post orgasmic fog. It took her a few minutes to properly come back. JJ had leaned up now, pressing electrifying open-mouthed kisses against the dips of her upper back. His hips shifted a little, earning a broken moan from the girl below him.

When he began to move, she leaned back, not wanting to end the fantasy bubble they had created. JJ shushed her with a small smack to her ass that made her jump. Both of them groaned at the sudden movement and he gripped the redden skin where his hand had just spanked. His other hand had vanished under the seat, reaching for vibrator that was still going off wildly. Her pussy spasmed in fear of the vibration inside of her again after the fucking he had just put her through. “Fuck Princess,” JJ hissed almost pinching her ass from the sensitivity.

The one act of kindness JJ had showed (Y/N), was flicking the manual switch to off on the device.

His fingers looped around the end of it, sitting up carefully.

Her ears perked up as the vibrating came to a stop. “JJ what are you doing?” (Y/N)’s shaky, fucked out voice rang through the silence. JJ felt no need to respond pulling out in one swift go. The feeling of emptiness didn’t settle because he was pumping the vibrator back into her, refusing to let any of the evidence vanish. Her muscles tightened, enduring the continued stimulation with a small puff.

“As much as I want to watch my cum drip out of your wrecked cunt..,” JJ’s voice drifted off as his blue irises dropped to the round curve of her ass. He was mesmerized by her worn out body. The marks he had left were giving in to his ego. His hand tenderly rubbed the skin down her back and squeezed at her butt. He’ll never get enough of the feeling.

“You’re gonna keep this vibrator in until John B undresses you at The Chateau. He’s gonna think he’s won, having made you cum in front of me, out of my reach. Then he’s gonna spread your bruised thighs. Shit he’ll even wonder why the vibrator could possibly be turned off. Then when he pulls it out, all of my cum is gonna drip out of his girls pussy for him.”

*****

Read Part 2 here

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please like, comment, or reblog💕

There will probably be 4 or 5 parts to this. If you’d like to be added to the taglist and kept up to date with this mini-series please comment below🫶🏼

3K notes · View notes

zuhaism · 15 days ago

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⊹ ｡˚ 𓂃 ♡ NO WAY ?!

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pairing : sophialaforteza x brothersbff!reader

synopsis : ever since she said yes to alex. you’ve changed. you laugh with lara. you smile at every other girl but her. until one moment behind the curtains.

a/n : hehehehehe. THIS IS CRAZY IDK WHAT I WAS DOING PLS IGNORE THE MISTAKES AND HOW EVERYTJING IS ALL OVER THE PLACE. anyways im back to unemployment heh. been playing minecraft and kinda ignoring this fic ugh 😒. but it’s here!! if you havent read the first part its here !!

the night still buzzes in your veins, the lingering high of the concert making you feel weightless. beside you, basil is still laughing about something, your footsteps unhurried as the two of you walk through the thinning crowd.

“man, that was crazy,” basil says, running a hand through his damp hair. “thanks for convincing me to join the band.”

you smirk, wiping off your sweat with a towel and leaving it hanging around your shoulders. “we needed someone useless enough to play bass.”

basil scoffs, shoving your shoulder. “you’re full of shit.”

you just laugh, the adrenaline still fading from your system, your limbs starting to feel heavier, more grounded. basil grins, triumphant, but your laughter softens, your expression shifting as something heavier settles in your chest. you hesitate, licking your lips.

“hey, uh,” you start, glancing at him. “i have to tell you something.”

basil slows his steps, sensing the change in tone. “what’s up?”

you inhale, exhale. flex your fingers. the words have been sitting at the back of your throat for too long, and if you don’t say them now, you don’t think you ever will.

“it’s about sophia.”

basil raises an eyebrow, waiting.

your throat tightens. “i like her.” then, quieter, more certain.more raw, “i’ve liked her for a long time.”

basil doesn’t react at first. just blinks at you, processing. then, after a long beat, a slow smirk spreads across his lips.

“so you finally grew a pair.”

you groan, tilting your head back. “bro, shut up.”

basil lets out a laugh, clapping you on the back. “nah, this is good. you should tell her. i mean, she’s been weird about you since you came.”

your brows furrow. “weird how?”

basil shrugs, but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable. “she’s been—”

“she’s been acting all… i don’t know, restless? like she’s here but not really here, y’know?”

you frown, gripping your water bottle tighter. “what do you mean?”

basil tilts his head, thinking. “like, okay. earlier, before the set, she was all quiet. which, first of all, unheard of.”

you huff a small laugh. yeah, that does sound weird. basil takes a sip of his drink before adding, “oh, and she keeps staring at you.”

your grip falters. “staring?”

basil smirks. “yeah, dude. like, eyes glued to you, totally zoned out, caught in the moment—i swear, it was embarrassing. Like damn, get a grip, soph.”

you feel warmth creep up your neck. “you’re messing with me.”

basil rolls his eyes. “yeah, because i have nothing better to do than gaslight you about my little sister having heart eyes for you.”

you click your tongue, shaking your head, but before you can respond, something catches your eye.

a few paces ahead, past the clusters of people drifting between food stalls and game booths, sophia stands beside alex at one of the carnival stands. the glow of the overhead bulbs bathes her in soft gold, illuminating the sharp lines of her profile. the delicate furrow of her brows, the subtle downturn of her lips.

she’s watching alex play one of those rigged bottle toss games, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. if she’s trying to feign interest, she’s not doing a very good job. alex is losing. badly.

basil lets out a sharp laugh. “he sucks.”

your jaw locks. the response catches in your throat, thick and bitter, before you manage a curt, “yeah.”

basil glances at you then, catching something in your tone, something restrained. he doesn’t push, but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes when he tilts his head toward the booth. “c’mon, let’s go say hi.”

you exhale through your nose, set your shoulders, and follow him.

you weave through the thinning crowd, the smell of fried dough and butter lingering in the cool night air. as you approach, sophia spots you first. her gaze flickers toward you in a sharp, fleeting moment, like a reflex. but instead of holding it, she drops her eyes just as quickly, snapping back to alex.

that’s new.

you can’t remember the last time sophia actively avoided looking at you.

not that you have time to dwell on it, because alex lets out a groan as another ball bounces uselessly off the rim. “dude, this game is rigged,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face.

sophia doesn’t even pretend to disagree. “or you just have no hand-eye coordination,” she says, dry and unimpressed.

“nah, it’s definitely rigged.”

basil snorts. “what, still blaming the game for your lack of talent?”

alex turns at that, grinning when he sees you. “hey, man, this shit’s impossible.”

you barely hear him. you’re still watching sophia. still waiting for her to acknowledge you. but she only nudges alex’s arm, shifting slightly away. “just let it go, dude.”

alex scoffs. “nah, watch, i got this.” he tosses another ball. it ricochets off the rim and lands unceremoniously on the ground.

your lips curl, sharp and mocking. “wow. impressive.”

alex shoots you a glare. “you think you can do better?”

you step forward, tugging a couple of bills from your pocket and handing them to the vendor. “yeah, actually.”

it’s instant. sophia’s head snaps toward you, like the words have struck something in her.

you don’t acknowledge it. don’t acknowledge her. instead, you roll your shoulders back, picking up a ball, your fingers curling around the smooth surface. your movements are casual, practiced, but beneath the surface, something burns.

your jaw is still clenched from earlier. your mind still reeling from basil’s words, from the way sophia hasn’t met your eyes, from the way she stands beside alex, arms crossed like she’s closing herself off. you’ve spent too long standing still, too long waiting, too long biting your tongue. so you aim, exhale slow, and throw.

the ball hits the rim, bounces once, then sinks straight through the bottles.

the vendor whistles. “damn, nice shot.”

alex groans, dragging a hand through his hair. “what the hell.”

basil bursts into laughter, clapping alex on the back. “ just admit you suck.”

you ignore them, your focus fixed on the row of prizes dangling from the booth. you glance at sophia then, for the first time really looking at her since you walked up.

“which one?” you ask, your voice measured, careful. sophia hesitates.

for a fleeting second, something wavers in her expression. a flicker of uncertainty, of something almost vulnerable, before she forces it away.

she licks her lips, eyes darting to the stuffed animals. “that one, i guess.” she points at a small blue penguin.

the vendor grabs it and hands it to you. you turn, holding it out. sophia stares at the toy, her grip on her own arms tightening slightly. then, slowly, she reaches out.

your fingers brush. you feel it. warm and brief, a barely-there spark. but sophia pulls away.

you don’t.

sophia doesn’t know why she hesitated. it’s just a stuffed animal. it shouldn’t mean anything. but when you look at her like that. patient, expectant, like you care. her chest tightens.

her fingers curl around the penguin, but her hands feel unsteady. she pulls away too quickly, needing distance, but it doesn’t help. her heart is still racing.

she doesn’t know why she feels this way. or maybe she does, and she’s just trying too hard to ignore it.

she clutches the penguin close to her chest, her fingers pressing into the soft fabric like it’s something solid to hold onto.

then alex laughs. “damn, i should’ve let you play first.”

your lips twitch. “you should’ve.”

basil coughs, barely covering his amusement.

“well, it’s fine,” alex says, tossing an arm around sophia’s shoulders. “i still got the girl, so i win in the end, right?”

you freeze.

it’s immediate. the way your whole body tenses, your breath catching in your throat. the way the warmth in your veins turns to ice, the words landing in your chest like a punch you hadn’t braced for.

your fingers curl into your palms, nails digging into skin. sophia stiffens under alex’s arm. you see it. feel it.

then, finally, sophia meets your gaze.

your jaw clenches. you don’t say anything. sophia’s throat bobs. she exhales sharply, then mutters, “we’re just dating. it’s not official.” she says as she pushes alex’s hand off of her.

the words hang in the air like a frayed thread, fragile and stretching too thin. alex frowns, blinking. “uh, isn’t that the same thing?”

“not really.”

“wow, congrats,” you try to say, forcing the words past the knot in your throat. your voice tried to stay steady, to sound like you mean it. but it comes out flat, hollow. basil looks at you sharply, his gaze bouncing between you and the couple. he wants to punch alex. you can see it in the way his jaw clenches. but more than that, he wants to comfort you.

before he can do either, you force out a quick excuse. “um—i gotta go tinkle. you know… that set was crazy.”

sophia shifts at your comment. her eyes flick to you, searching, and you know she can tell something’s wrong.

before basil can stop you, you’re already turning away, moving fast.

the moment you’re out of sight, the pressure behind your eyes becomes unbearable. the world blurs at the edges, lights smearing into streaks, voices muffled against the pounding in your chest.

you were too slow to say anything. too slow to brave it. too slow to tell her how you felt before someone else took the chance.

you swallow hard, blinking against the tears, but they keep coming, hot and relentless.

before you started blaming yourself. a body collided with you. “oh sorry- yn?” it was lara. she was already looking at you with concern written all over her face. “lets sit down.”

she grabbed your wrists before you can even tell her to go away. lara doesn’t give you a choice. her grip is firm but not forceful, her pace steady as she leads you away from the crowds, away from the suffocating buzz of the carnival. you don’t fight it. you don’t have the energy to.

your chest feels too tight, your throat raw from holding back everything you don’t have the strength to say.

lara doesn’t speak right away. she waits until you’re both settled on a bench near the edge of the boardwalk overlooking the sea, where the noise is distant enough to feel bearable. only then does she turn to you, eyes scanning your face, piecing things together without needing to ask.

for a moment it was quiet. the sound of waves could only be heard between the two of you. “stay here” said lara breaking the calming silence. you didn’t react. your mind was out of it.

after 5 minutes, lara came back with two ice cream cones. lara hands you one of the cones without a word, pressing the cold treat into your palm. no hesitation, no questioning. just an unspoken understanding.

you glance down at it, then back at her. “really?”

she shrugs, already taking a bite of her own. “figured you needed something to shut your brain up.”

you let out a quiet, breathy laugh, the first genuine one in what feels like hours. the weight in your chest doesn’t disappear, but it shifts, just enough. “thanks.”

lara doesn’t acknowledge it, just nudges your knee with hers and leans back against the bench, eyes locked on the dark horizon.

you both sit there, letting the silence stretch. it isn’t awkward, isn’t heavy. it just is. the waves crash against the shore, the distant sounds of the carnival hum in the background, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you can breathe.

you don’t say it out loud, but you’re grateful. not just for the ice cream, but for lara’s presence, for the way she doesn’t press for answers you aren’t ready to give.

after a few minutes, she exhales sharply, tilting her head. “i’m just saying, if you had to lose out to someone, alex is a really pathetic choice.”

you snort, shaking your head. “dude.”

“what? he’s a douche.”

you roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches. “apparently, that’s not a dealbreaker.”

lara hums, feigning deep thought. “tragic.”

“mhm.”

the night air is cool against your skin, the scent of salt and sugar lingering in the breeze. your ice cream is starting to drip down your fingers, but wiping it away feels like too much effort.

you were enjoying your ice cream until the silence was broken once again when someone called your name.

“sophia?” lara mutters, barely tilting her head.

you freeze for a split second before turning around.

sophia is standing a few feet away, her expression shifting the moment your eyes meet. for a brief moment, she looks relieved. almost pleased. to have found you sitting alone. her shoulders loosen slightly, the tension in her stance easing. but then she sees lara.

her expression falters. the subtle warmth in her eyes cools, replaced by something sharper, something guarded. she presses her lips together, crossing her arms over her chest, posture stiffening like she’s bracing for something.

you don’t say anything. just wait.

“we’re leaving,” she finally says, voice even but not as casual as she probably wants it to be. “come on.”

normally, you would’ve stood up immediately, tossed the rest of your ice cream and followed without hesitation. but you don’t.

sophia notices.

her grip tightens around her sleeves as she watches you stay seated, licking the last bit of your ice cream off your fingers like you’re in no rush at all. she shifts on her feet, waiting for the inevitable moment when you’ll sigh, stand, and trail after her like you always do.

but you don’t move.

she exhales through her nose, impatient. “yn.”

still, nothing.

something twists uncomfortably in her stomach. this is different. this isn’t how things go. you’re supposed to come with her. you’re supposed to listen, even when she doesn’t ask nicely.

she turns on her heel, expecting your footsteps to follow.

but they don’t.

sophia stops after a few steps, a cold prickle running down her spine. her fingers curl against her arms as she turns back around, trying not to look as thrown off as she feels.

she watches as you exhale, finally shifting forward. you stretch a little, wiping your hands against your jeans before patting lara’s shoulder, murmuring something too low to hear.

and then you walk right past her.

sophia barely steps aside in time, the air between you charged with something heavy, something unfamiliar.

no glance. no acknowledgment.

you just keep moving, heading toward the set to gather your things.

sophia stares after you, the unease in her chest settling like a weight she can’t shake off. she doesn’t understand this feeling clawing at her ribs, the frustration bubbling beneath her skin. it’s ridiculous. you were just sitting with lara. just eating ice cream. there’s nothing wrong with that.

and yet, she hates the way it makes her feel.

on the ride home, the car is quieter than usual. not tense, not awkward. just quiet. the kind that feels intentional. like no one wants to be the first to break it.

you sit by the window, gaze locked on the passing streetlights, the glow casting shifting patterns across your face. your hands rest in your lap, fingers curled loosely around the fabric of your jeans. you haven’t spoken since getting in the car, and you don’t plan to.

sophia sits beside you, her arms crossed, legs tucked up slightly like she’s trying to make herself smaller. she keeps sneaking glances at you, waiting for something. maybe for you to turn and meet her eyes. maybe for you to say something, anything, like you always do.

but you don’t.

your silence feels different tonight. it’s not the comfortable kind, not the easy kind. it’s heavy, distant. like you’re not physically here and it’s bothering her more than it should.

when the car reaches sophia’s house, you step out without a word, moving straight to the trunk to grab some of the equipment. basil does the same, shooting you a glance, but he doesn’t say anything.

sophia follows, watching as you walk ahead of her, shoulders tense in a way that’s so unlike you. usually, you’d be the one cracking a joke about how you always end up carrying the heaviest stuff or making some offhand comment about how you basically live here at this point. but tonight, you’re just quiet.

it’s throwing her off.

inside, you set the last bag down in the usual spot near the couch. basil disappears into the kitchen, giving you two some space—not that you seem to notice. you just straighten up, dust your hands off, and let out a quiet exhale.

“alright, i’m heading out.”

sophia blinks. “oh. you’re not staying?” usually you’d stay for awhile. chatting with basil , play with their dogs or even annoying sophia. but today.

“nah, i’m tired.”

she waits for it. the usual—maybe a teasing remark, a lazy grin, even a light shove to her shoulder. but it doesn’t come.

instead, you just nod at basil, say a quick “see you” to him, and then. nothing. no glance in her direction, no hug, no playful ruffling of her hair that you know she pretends to hate. your eyes really do look tired.

just silence.

her stomach twists.

she stands there, watching as you walk out the door without looking back. something about it makes her chest feel tight, an odd pressure settling in like she’s missing something. like she’s done something wrong.

before she even realizes it, she’s following you.

by the time she steps onto the driveway, you’re already in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel like you can’t wait to leave. her stomach twists. she hesitates for a second, fingers tightening around the sleeves of her hoodie, before raising a hand and tapping lightly on your window.

you roll it down, and suddenly, you’re looking at her. really looking at her.

it makes her nervous.

up close, she can see it clearly—the exhaustion in your face, the dull weight in your eyes. you look drained, like you’ve been running on empty all night, and she wonders why she didn’t notice it sooner.

“uh—your set,” she starts, shifting her weight, suddenly unsure of what to say. “it was really good today. i didn’t get to tell you earlier.”

your lips twitch, barely forming a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “thanks.”

sophia doesn’t like this. the quiet. the distance. the way you feel just out of reach. she knows you would’ve been teasing her. for complimenting you. but nothing. not even a grin from you.

she lingers, arms crossed over her chest like it’ll help ease the discomfort pressing into her ribs. typically, you’d stay. even if you were tired, you’d still crash on their couch for a while, maybe steal something from the fridge before heading home. but tonight, you’re already leaving.

“see you next week, soph.”

she blinks. “next week? you’re not coming tomorrow?”

you shake your head. “can’t. got stuff to do.”

the answer is too easy.

she shifts again, fingers gripping her sleeve. “you sure? it’s still early. you could—” she stops herself, biting the inside of her cheek. she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. doesn’t know why she suddenly doesn’t want you to go.

but you just sigh, rubbing a hand over your face before nodding. “sorry soph. im busy— i just— i dont think im feeling well.” you stopped, eyes meeting sophias.

and for a second, she forgets what she was going to say. sophia swallows. her voice catches in her throat.

sophia doesn’t say anything. she just watches as you roll the window back up, put the car in reverse, and pull away.

and she stands there long after your tail lights disappear, arms wrapped around herself, wondering why it suddenly feels like she just let something important slip right through her fingers.

the following week has been dull for sophia. not because she doesn’t have anything to do—she does, as her schedule is packed with rehearsals, school, and the usual chaos of balancing everything at once. but because she rarely sees you anymore.

and when she does, it’s different.

whenever she walks into a room and you’re there—laughing at something her brother said, leaning back on the couch like you belong—her chest tightens in something close to relief. but before she can even think about joining, you’re making some excuse, getting up, slipping away before she can say anything.

it’s deliberate. she knows it is.

but it’s the worst when she sees you with lara.

the two of you have been close lately, too close for her liking. lara leans into your space, nudges your arm, laughs at something only the two of you understand. it makes sophia’s skin itch, her fingers twitch like she wants to tear something apart.

(she doesn’t know why it gets to her so much.)

at least here, during tutoring, you can’t run.

you’re sitting across from her, flipping through the calculus textbook with that familiar, unreadable look on your face. you’ve been quieter than usual, more distant, but your explanations are as sharp as ever, walking her through every problem with the same level of patience that makes her want to watch you forever.

she wonders if you know how amazing you are at this. not just at math, but at explaining things, at making the hardest problems feel manageable. she watches the way your fingers tap absently against the paper, the way your brows furrow when you’re thinking. she wants to tell you.

she doesn’t.

instead, she taps her pencil against the desk, glancing at you. “hey, the silver screen is this friday. you wanna come?”

you pause, glancing up from the textbook. “alex won’t go with you?” the words come out before you can stop them, and you hate how they sound. detached. like it doesn’t sting to picture her with him.

you know exactly what the silver screen is. an annual event the school organizes, setting up a massive projector on the football field, fairy lights strung up around the bleachers, blankets spread across the grass. students bring snacks, some come in groups, others… as couples.

you remember your sister talking about it when you were younger, how she met her husband there, how it was one of those nights that stuck with her forever. she told you it had this kind of magic to it. something meant for the kind of people who find love in stolen glances and shared laughter under the open sky.

but the idea of sophia in that setting—with alex—makes your chest tighten.

she shifts in her seat, her pencil tapping against her notebook. “he’s going camping or something.” she shrugs, but you notice the way she’s watching you closely, like she’s waiting for something. “anyway, it’s not that serious. just a movie night.”

just a movie night.

you swallow, forcing your gaze back down to the calculus problem in front of you, but the numbers blur together. you should say no. you should tell her you’re busy, give her some excuse, avoid the way this entire conversation makes you feel.

sophia feels like she’s standing on the edge of something dangerous, something she doesn’t quite understand. she should drop it. should let yn change the subject, move on like this was just some offhand suggestion.

but then she speaks again, quieter this time. “you don’t have to, obviously. just thought it’d be nice.”

and that, more than anything. makes it impossible to refuse.

the silence stretches, and sophia suddenly regrets every decision she’s made in the last two minutes.

“yeah,” you murmur, gripping your pen a little tighter. “i’ll think about it.”

relief rushes through sophia so fast it almost makes her lightheaded. she nods, trying not to seem too eager, forcing herself to focus on her notes. but her heart is still racing.

she doesn’t know if this is a good idea.

you have been avoiding her lately, and sophia doesn’t know why. she sees it in the way you always leave the moment she shows up, how you makes excuses to be anywhere else. even during tutoring, she feels the shift.

and maybe that’s why sophia is scared. because for the first time in weeks, she’s found an excuse to keep you close.

sophia doesn’t push. she just nods, a small, almost satisfied expression crossing her face before she drops her attention back to her notes.

she’ll deal with that later. right now, all that matters is that you haven’t said no.

sophia doesn’t even like flowers that much.

but alex had shown up out of nowhere, smiling as she handed over a single baby’s breath, saying something about how she was sorry that sophia missed the silver screen.

sophia barely registered the words. she just held the flower between her fingers, nodding along, trying not to overthink how wrong it felt to be standing here, listening to alex talk when all she could think about was you.

and then alex was gone.

sophia barely had time to process it before you appeared, stepping up beside her with that unreadable look in your eyes.

“nice flower,” you said, gaze flickering down to the small bloom in her hand.

sophia didn’t even get the chance to respond before you plucked it from her fingers, twirling it once between your own as you started walking. instinctively, she followed. there was no hesitation, no second thought—just the pull of you leading the way, and sophia falling into step beside you.

as soon as you start walking, you begin talking.

something about your day, something about how your morning was a disaster because you spilled coffee on your notes, and then how lara had the audacity to laugh instead of help. something about that makes her twitch. you’re still talking, completely unaware of the way sophia’s stomach twists when you bring up lara.

“—and then lara said i need to get a life because i spent my saturday fixing my guitar instead of going out, but she was literally—”

sophia isn’t sure why she feels weird about this. you and lara have always been friends. but hearing just how much time you’ve been spending together lately makes something uncomfortable settle in her chest.

before she can stop herself, the words leave her mouth. “lara likes someone from the girls' football team.”

you pause mid-step, blinking at her. “okay?” okay?? what was she even expecting you to say?

she has no idea why she said that. no idea why she felt the need to say anything. you stare at her for a second longer, like you’re trying to figure out if there’s a point to what she just blurted out. and maybe there is. maybe she just wants you to stop bringing her up so casually when it’s already so obvious that lara gets more of your time than she does. but you don’t push. you just shrug, muttering something about how you hope lara finally gets her love life sorted out, before continuing whatever you were saying earlier. sophia barely hears it.

her face feels hot. her hands are clammy. she keeps her gaze forward, hoping you won’t notice. she needs to get a grip.

you keep talking like nothing happened, like sophia didn’t just embarrass herself for no reason.

her face is burning. she can still hear her own voice echoing in her head, the absolute stupidity of it making her want to crawl into her locker and never come out. why did she say that? why did she care?

sophia nods along, half-listening.

she wants to focus on your words, she really does, but all she can think about is the fact that you’re talking to her again.

after a week of cold shoulders and passing glances that never quite landed, you’re walking beside her like nothing happened. you’re initiating the conversation, keeping the space between you light and easy. and god, she missed this. she missed you.

she barely even notices when you toss the flower into the trash without a second thought. she’s too busy watching the way you move, the way your hands gesture when you talk, the way your voice dips when you complain about lara. it’s familiar and new all at once, and she hates how much she’s hanging onto every word, desperate to make up for the days you kept your distance.

before she knows it, you’re outside her classroom. she stops, blinking up at you as you roll your shoulders back like you’re bracing yourself.

“i’ll go to the silver screen with you.”

sophia’s breath catches.

“i’ll pick you up at six.”

she barely processes the words before you’re already stepping away, disappearing down the hall.

her hands are ice cold, but her face feels like it’s on fire.the bell rings, but she doesn’t move. she barely hears it over the way her pulse roars in her ears. students push past her, some rushing into the classroom, others lingering in the hallway, but sophia doesn’t register any of it. she’s stuck—feet planted, hands gripping the hem of her sweater, head tilted slightly down as her hair falls over her burning face.

her lips twitch, and then, before she can stop it, a smile breaks through. and suddenly, her whole chest feels like it’s about to burst.

fireworks. that’s what it feels like. like someone just lit a match inside her, and now she’s sparking. she barely remembers how to breathe.

someone bumps into her shoulder on their way into class, snapping her out of it. she blinks rapidly, heart still hammering against her ribs, and forces her feet to move. she slips inside, head ducked low, smile still tugging at her lips, fingers twitching at her sides.

she doesn’t think she’s going to hear a single thing the teachers say today.

sophia had to stay back until four for cheer practice. it was now 3:57.

she stepped out of the locker room, still adjusting the strap of her gym bag, cheeks flushed from the last half hour of cheer practice. she was let off early for once. her coach had other meetings to get to, and sophia didn’t mind. in fact, she was almost relieved. because it meant she got to see you. not for tutoring. just… to be with you. and even if it was just a few minutes walking to your car and getting driven home by you, it was something she’d been looking forward to since the morning.

she hummed quietly as she walked down the quiet hallway, shoes squeaking softly against the floor. it was nice to finally have a moment where she didn’t feel like she had to run into alex or sit through another lunch of watching you laugh at something lara said.

when she passed the music room, she slowed down. you said you’d be there, working on something for the club. just a quick touch-up for an upcoming assembly or whatever. she thought she’d check on you, see if you were ready to leave.

but then she saw you.

you were there, standing by the far piano, eyes crinkling in that way that always made sophia’s chest ache. and beside you was lara. laughing at something, close enough that it made sophia’s stomach twist. your shoulder brushed lara’s when you leaned down to show her something on the sheet music.

sophia couldn’t move.

she should’ve just gone outside. waited like a normal person. but instead, she was frozen there, just outside the open doorway, like some kind of idiot. watching two of her friends laugh over a song she didn’t care about, in a space that suddenly felt like it didn’t belong to her.

and she hated that it made her mad.

lara had only known you for what, a few months? but somehow she had you laughing, smiling, letting her in. meanwhile, you could barely look sophia in the eye last week. she was your date to the silver screen, and yet she didn’t feel like she meant anything to you.

so she turned around. quietly, without saying a word.

sophia walked to the front of the school and sat on the stairs, bag at her feet. the late afternoon sun warmed the concrete, but she barely noticed it. her thoughts were louder than everything else.

why did it feel like this? why did her chest feel tight every time she saw you with lara? why did she hate that lara could make you laugh so easily? and more than anything—why did she care so much?

she already had alex, didn’t she?

except alex didn’t make her feel like this. he never did.

she buried her face in her hands for a second, trying to breathe past the knot in her chest. this was stupid. she had no reason to be jealous. you weren’t even hers.

but then she heard the door open behind her.

your voice came next. soft, almost surprised. “soph? what are you doing out here?”

sophia looked up, blinking fast. the sun caught on your hair, and you squinted slightly against the light as you stepped down toward her. and just like that, the irritation and the jealousy faded into something warmer. something she hated to name.

“you ready to go?” you asked, adjusting your bag.

sophia nodded, getting up quickly and brushing off the back of her skirt. “yeah.”

you didn’t mention lara. didn’t say anything about what she might’ve seen through that window. and maybe sophia was grateful for that.

but as you started walking beside her toward the parking lot, close enough for your arm to brush hers, sophia realized something quietly. no matter how much time passed, or who else was around, being next to you always felt like something she didn’t want to lose.

she had to do something. but as for now, she could not wait until silver screen to spend time with you.

it was finally friday. the day of the silver screen.

yesterday’s tutoring session was strange. sophia wasn’t herself—distant, distracted. her eyes kept drifting away from the textbook, and her responses were slower than usual. she was zoning out, completely out of it. and no matter how many times you asked if something was wrong, she just shook her head and gave you a half-smile.

you hated how fast your mind jumped to alex. hated how easy it was to assume he had something to do with it. maybe they argued. maybe he did something stupid again. maybe sophia was finally tired of pretending to be okay. or maybe—maybe it had nothing to do with alex at all, and you were just projecting.

still, the silence between you two yesterday stuck to you more than it should’ve. especially with how much you were looking forward to seeing her again today.

you were leaning against the wall outside your second period class when lara walked up to you, balancing her iced coffee in one hand and her phone in the other.

“you good?” she asked, eyes scanning your face. “you look like someone broke your guitar.”

you scoffed. “just tired.”

lara raised an eyebrow. “tired of watching sophia and alex exist, or just tired in general?”

you didn’t answer. instead, you looked down, kicking lightly at the floor. the way she said it so casually, like she already knew exactly what was bothering you, made your stomach twist.

“look,” lara said, taking a sip of her drink, “i’m not gonna give you the whole ‘move on’ speech. but maybe… take a chance?” you glanced at her, confused. “on what?”

“on anyone,” she said simply. “any girl who even breathes in your direction. flirt back. talk first. give someone else a shot.”

you laughed, dry and a little hollow. “that’d be you, then.” lara snorted. “please. you’re attractive, but you’re not my type.” you clutched your chest dramatically. “ouch.”

“you’ll live,” she teased. “just… stop shutting people out. you never know who might surprise you. maybe tonight, some cute girl’s gonna walk up to you under the lights and change everything.” you rolled your eyes but smiled, soft and small. “we’ll see.”

“we will see,” lara said, and just as she was about to continue, someone appeared beside you both.

“hi, guys!”

you turned. sophia.

she was smiling too brightly. her voice slightly too chipper to be casual. her eyes flickered between you and lara, and for a second, she looked like she was regretting even approaching. but lara, oblivious or simply unbothered, grinned.

“just the person i needed to see,” lara said. “music club needs extra help for the orchestra set-up on sunday.”

sophia blinked. “orchestra?”

“yeah,” lara nodded. “stage layout, equipment prep, stuff like that. we’re a little short on hands on saturday. you in?”

sophia hesitated. “i don’t know… i might be out with alex that day.”

your stomach dropped, but your face didn’t change. you just offered a tight-lipped smile, eyes unfocused. lara nudged sophia’s arm. “yn and another girl is gonna be there.” sophia turned to look at you, and you met her eyes briefly. you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to. she hesitated again, visibly torn. “…maybe. i have to see how saturday goes.

“well, if you change your mind,” lara said, giving sophia a knowing look, “it’s always open. besides, yn could use a friend there.”

sophia opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out right away. you didn’t press. you just watched her quietly, your expression unreadable. she didn’t know what she expected to see in your face, but whatever it was—it wasn’t there.

sophia could hear the doorbell ring, followed by basil’s unmistakably loud voice yelling, “your favourite person is here!”

she paused at the top of the stairs, heart ticking a little faster. she didn’t know why that made her blush. maybe because it was true. or maybe it was the panic that you might’ve actually heard him from outside.

she smoothed her sundress, quickly brushing down the fabric as she gave herself one last glance in the mirror. cheeks warm. hair in place. smile soft but not too eager. okay.

when she finally walked down the stairs, she spotted you through the open front door. leaning against the railings in your leather jacket, talking to basil with that casual charm of yours.

you looked—cool. your hair, your posture, your smile. it wasn’t fair. you looked like you belonged in a movie. basil nudged you, laughing about something, and for a second sophia almost turned back around just to take another breath.

then you looked up and saw her. your whole expression shifted. “soph,” you said, voice low but warm, and something in it made her freeze for a moment.

you weren’t smiling like you normally did. your gaze moved from her eyes to her lips to her sundress and then back up again. like you were taking her in all at once. she stepped out of the house, barely remembering how to walk. you tilted your head slightly. “you look…”

you didn’t finish the sentence, but your face said enough. “thank you,” sophia smiled, cheeks heating as she fiddled with the strap of her bag. “you clean up okay too.”

basil scoffed. “okay? look at her. leather jacket? hair actually tamed? she’s trying to impress.” you rolled your eyes. “shut up.”

“don’t knock her up!” basil called out dramatically as you both started walking down the path. “bye, basil,” you said dryly, grabbing sophia’s hand for just a second to guide her past the uneven step. she nearly tripped anyway, too caught up in the feeling of your fingers against her skin. when you let go, her palm missed it immediately.

“you ready?” you asked once you reached the car, your voice soft again. different from how you spoke to basil. only for her. “yeah,” she replied, eyes shining just a little too brightly. “ready.”

the drive to school was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. the windows were slightly rolled down. music played softly from the stereo. sophia peeked at you once or twice, each time hoping you wouldn’t catch her. but you did.

and you smiled.

once you arrived, the field was already starting to fill with groups of people. string lights hung across the trees, dim but glowing. the screen wasn’t lit yet, but the projector was being set up. blankets, snacks, pillows. people were settling in.

you popped the trunk and pulled out a folded blanket and a small cooler bag. “you came prepared,” sophia said as you led her to a quieter near the back. “had to,” you shrugged, setting everything down carefully. “wasn’t sure if you’d eaten.

you laid out the picnic blanket, smoothing the corners before sitting down. sophia joined you, eyes drifting to the cooler bag. “wait,” she said, “you made sandwiches?” you avoided her eyes. “yeah. i mean. just in case you got hungry.” “you made these?” she asked again, genuinely surprised. “for me?”

you shrugged again, clearly flustered. “it’s not a big deal.” sophia reached for one of them, unwrapping the foil carefully. it smelled good. “no, it is,” she said softly, grinning. “it’s really cute.” you ducked your head, ears turning pink. “don’t say that.”

“what? it is,” she said, taking a bite. “and it’s good.”

you tried to act unfazed, but your fingers kept fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. sophia felt warm. not just from the food or the air, but from you. from the effort you put in. from the fact that you remembered she liked her bread toasted just a little. from the fact that she was here, with you, without a textbook or a group or anyone else getting in the way.

it hit her all at once. how rare this was. how special. just you and her, under the lights, and nothing else demanding your attention. you leaned back on your palms, watching the people around you start to settle down. the movie hadn’t started yet, but the energy in the air felt almost anticipatory.

sophia glanced at you again. you weren’t looking at her. but she wished you were. she didn’t know what any of this meant yet. but she knew how she felt right now. and it was… happy. unreasonably happy.

sophia couldn’t stop glancing at you.

the movie had started. drive me crazy, a film she’d only ever half-watched once on cable, but now it played on the huge projector screen. the kind with soft music and bubble fonts and girls with shiny hair and boys who suddenly realize the best thing in their life has been there all along. it felt like a cliche, and yet… here she was. on a blanket with you, under strings of dim fairy lights and the vast sky, heart threatening to beat right out of her chest.

you were leaning back on your wrists, one leg stretched out, the other bent casually. your leather jacket was still on, despite the warmth of the evening. it made you look even cooler. like the main character in a teen movie who didn’t even try to be charming. you just were. and when the screen lit up your face. those golden streaks of light dancing over your cheekbones. sophia had to physically remind herself to look away.

she was flustered. every time your arm brushed hers, she stiffened slightly. not because she didn’t like it. because she did. too much. it was impossible to ignore how close you were. how your knees would occasionally touch when you shifted. how you’d offer her little comments about the movie in a whisper only she could hear. each time you leaned closer, it felt like the air thinned around them.

sophia didn't realize how cold her hands were until yours touched them.

the movie had been playing for a while now, and most of the lawn had quieted into the soft hum of popcorn munching and screen-lit faces. she wasn’t even watching anymore. not really. her eyes were forward, but her mind was sideways—on you. the way your foot tapped gently against hers, how your knuckles occasionally bumped. your presence beside her felt too big, like it was crowding all the space in her chest, and yet she wanted to be closer. she needed it like oxygen.

your fingers brushed hers again, this time more intentionally. and then, before she could prepare, you reached for her hand and held it. gently. warmly. like it was the most natural thing in the world.

her breath caught. she didn’t look at you.

your thumb ran lightly across the back of her hand, just once. slow. curious.

“your hand’s freezing,” you whispered, voice low, careful not to disturb the fragile quiet between you.

sophia blinked. her brain stuttered. “oh. yeah. i guess i—i didn’t notice.”

you were still holding her. still rubbing soft circles, like your trying to warm her hand. then came the breeze. not strong, but sudden, slipping under her sundress and making her shoulders tense. you didn’t say anything.

you let go of her hand just for a moment, and the cold bit at your skin immediately, sharper now that you weren’t distracted by her touch. she looked up, confused, just as you slipped your arms out of your jacket. the motion was smooth. you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to.

the air was cool tonight.that in-between kind of cold that settled low in your chest and made your breath curl in front of your face. the sky had turned dark, still holding onto the last traces of daylight. she shivered once, barely noticeable, but you caught it.

you shuffled closer.

your jacket, still warm from your body. draped over her shoulders. not quickly, not casually. you made sure it settled right. that the collar tucked against her neck. that the sleeves didn’t slip off.

sophia went very still. the warmth hit her first, curling around her like a second skin. then the scent. faint leather, something piney from your cologne, and something else, something she couldn’t name but had always associated with you. it wrapped around her like a memory she hadn’t let herself remember.

her fingers twitched at her sides, like she wanted to hold onto it. like she wanted to hold onto you. when she turned her head to look at you, you were already watching her.

your face was different in the low light. softer. your features drawn in shadow and the gold cast of the nearest lamp. your eyes, usually so easy to read—were darker now, unreadable. they flickered with something quieter. something closer to hope. closer to fear. you weren’t smiling. you weren’t teasing. you just looked at her.

long and soft and still.

“thanks,” sophia said quietly. her voice came out tight, breathy. she meant to sound casual, but the words caught in her throat before they even made it out. her fingers brushed the edge of your jacket, holding it closed like armor.

you didn’t reply right away. your eyes dipped, briefly, instinctively—to her mouth. then back up.

you didn’t let it linger, but she saw it. “of course,” you murmured, your voice a little rough. a little softer than she’d ever heard it. and for one long second, neither of you moved.

it was until a body dropped onto the blanket beside you guys. “hey,” came the casual voice, disrupting everything in an instant.

you turned your head, blinking. sophia flinched. and just like that, the spell broke. but she didn’t let go of your hand.

your eyes was met with soft, delicate smile with smooth, glowing skin. her eyes lingering for just a moment too long. “you’re yn, right? i’ve heard a lot about you.” said the girl with a wolfcut who just interrupted them. yn’s face softened with a smile, that casual, approachable one she always wore. “yeah, that’s me,” she replied, her voice as warm and pleasant.

the girls gaze flicked over to sophia, and for a brief second, there was something mischievous there, something almost knowing. she didn’t acknowledge her presence, though; she just looked right back at yn with a tilt of her head. “i’ve been hearing about you from some of the other members in the music club. cant wait to get to know you better this weekend”

sophia’s jaw clenched, but she forced herself to breathe. her gaze flickered to yn, waiting for her reaction. yn was shocked then she started smiling back, polite. “oh! you’re karina?” karina nods with a charming smile on her face.

karina's voice was light, almost flirtatious, and sophia could hear every word like a slap to the face. “im sure we’re gonna have a good time. you’re pretty involved in the music club.”

sophia's fingers curled into fists again, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. she could feel the heat rise in her chest, that simmering jealousy she couldn’t quite control, couldn’t hide. it was like the walls around her chest were closing in. she was fuming, but she had to hold it together. karina was still talking, still leaning in just a little too close to yn, but sophia couldn’t look away. it made her feel restless, uncomfortable in her own skin. she hated how karina looked at yn. hated how she seemed so effortlessly at ease with her.

“maybe we’ll get to do some more events together. you and me.” karina continued, her voice sweet like sugar, but with an edge that made sophia’s skin crawl. yn laughed lightly, more because she didn’t want to seem rude than anything else. “yeah, i guess so.”

sophia’s fists tightened again. she wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. it wasn’t like karina was doing anything wrong. but it felt like a punch to the gut every time she’d glance at her.

without thinking, sophia nudged yn’s side, the action coming out sharper than she intended. her voice was almost a whisper, but it was tight with the edge of frustration. “im cold,” she muttered, hoping it would make yn pay attention to her, if only for a moment as they were still talking about the next day.

yn blinked, caught off guard. she looked at sophia, her eyebrows knitting together slightly in confusion. for a split second, sophia thought maybe she’d gone too far. maybe it was too obvious. but then, yn smiled, her face softening, and before sophia could process what was happening, yn’s arm was around her shoulders.

it was a simple, just an arm, draped over her, the warmth of it soaking into her skin. but sophia’s breath hitched, her heart skipping a beat. it felt like the world was narrowing down to just the two of them, karina’s annoying chatter blurring out of focus. the warmth from yn’s body pressed against hers, and sophia’s mind went completely blank for a moment. the tension that had been building up inside her. the jealousy, the frustration. melted away for just a second, leaving her with nothing but a rush of warmth.

karina finally glanced down. it was brief, just a flicker of her eyes toward the arm yn had draped over sophia, but it was enough. her mouth pulled into something between a smirk and an apology. “oh,” she said, the word cutting through the air just a little too knowingly, “have i caught you two at a bad time?”

sophia stiffened, but yn didn’t flinch. “nah,” she replied, casual, as if her arm wasn’t currently setting sophia’s entire bloodstream on fire. “we were just watching.”

karina’s smirk deepened for a second before she lifted her hands in mock surrender, tone playful. “my bad. i’ll leave you guys to it.” she looked at sophia this time, and for once, actually acknowledged her. “nice jacket, by the way.” then she got up, brushing off her skirt like she’d just lost interest, and disappeared into the crowd of blankets and folding chairs.

sophia didn’t say anything for a long time. she just sat there, eyes fixed ahead like she was watching the screen, but she wasn’t. the movie might as well have been static. she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in her ears, couldn’t feel anything except yn’s arm still resting gently on her shoulders, the weight of it, the warmth of it, the casual closeness.

she was flushed all the way to her ears. she knew it. she could feel the heat crawling up her neck, her jaw tight as she tried not to let it show, tried not to make it obvious how dizzy she felt. her skin buzzed under yn’s touch.

you shifted beside her, not moving away. just closer. like you sensed it. you could feel the way her breathing stuttered. “you good?” you asked quietly, leaning down a bit so your voice barely rose above the rustle of the crowd and the hum of the movie playing in the background.

sophia glanced at you, your face so close it made her stomach twist. your arm still around her. your eyes soft and unreadable. she blinked, then nodded a little too quickly. “yeah,” she said, her voice small and clipped. “just… wasn’t expecting her.”

you raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking back in the direction karina had gone. “karina?”

sophia didn’t answer right away. her lips were pressed tight, her fingers knotted together in her lap. “she’s annoying,” she muttered eventually, the words coming out sharp.

you blinked, surprised by her tone. “she’s not that bad.”

but that only made sophia’s jaw clench harder. not that bad.her heart stung, irrationally and stupidly, like she’d just been scratched raw. the thought of you spending hours with her tomorrow, alone, laughing like that again, her leaning in too close while you smiled and didn’t stop her—it made sophia feel sick. her thoughts spiraled.

“she clearly likes you,” sophia said flatly, eyes fixed on her lap, voice barely above a whisper. “not that you noticed.”

you tilted your head slightly, caught off guard. “what?”

“nevermind.” her tone was too bitter to continue. she hated how obvious she sounded now. she wanted to take it back, but the words were already there, suspended between you.

you didn’t say anything for a second. just looked at her. studied her, the way her shoulders were tense under your arm, the way her jaw twitched slightly when she wasn’t speaking. “are you okay?” you asked again, softer this time.

she turned to look at you finally. and the look in your eyes. concern and, maybe even something warmer. it made something in her snap. she didn’t know what possessed her.

“i’ll come tomorrow.”

you blinked. “what?”

“to the orchestra setup. with you and karina.” her voice was firmer now, more controlled, but the edge was still there, bubbling just under the surface. “i’ll help.”

you hesitated. your brows lifted a little. “i thought you said you hate doing stuff like that.”

“i changed my mind.” she swallowed, staring right into your eyes. “it’ll be fun. right?”

and then she smiled, too wide, a little fake, but her eyes were burning. because if there was one thing she knew in that moment, it was that she could not let you and karina be alone together tomorrow. not when it felt like everything was tilting, slipping out of her hands.

you looked at her for a long second. then your lips parted, like you were going to say something, maybe call her out on it, maybe ask what this really was. but you didn’t. you just let out a soft laugh, shaking your head.

“sure,” you said finally, smile curling at the corners of your lips. “the more the merrier.” oh you were oblivious.

the next morning sophia woke up late. she woke up with her alarm ringing and drencehd in sweat. she hurriedly got up and checked her text. "im already here where are you?" she cursed herself for not telling basil about her plans for today. if not he could've woken her up. 'useless ass brother' sophia got dropped off by basil, she was extremely late. 2 hours late to be exact.

she wanted to leave the second she entered the auditorium because of what she saw. she saw you squatting near the apron fixing some wiring. she could see some of you back muscles peeking through the white tanktop you had on. she almost passed out.

but what made it worst was karina who was sitting on the edge of the stage. she was admiring you. your back to be specific while typing on her phone. something inside sophia lit up. she could feel herself getting angry and frustrated.

she stomped over to where you both were. karina noticed sophia’s angry walk over. “oh you’re here?” karina said with disinterest in her voice. sophia rolled her eyes at that. you on the other hand turned around upon hearing the footsteps. a bright smile immediately took over your face.

“you’re finally here!” you said in a teasing manner. getting up from your squatting position, while wiping off your hands on your jeans. sophia got a whole view of your body and she almost shuddered. your loose jeans were making your boxers peak out. sophia was caught off guard when you immediately went to hug her.

sophia hugged back of course while glaring at karina who was rolling her eyes at you two. sophia prayed you miss the way her face went red when you suddenly greeted her with a hug. “sorry im late” said sophia looking down, drowned with guilt.

you patted her shoulder. she looked up at you and that stupidly adorable grin was on your face. “it’s okay! you can help finish arranging the chairs.” you pointed at the stage behind karina.

sophia pointed at karina who was sitting on the stage idly tapping on her phone. “why isn’t she doing anything.” her tone had a hint of annoyance.

you turned back to smile at karina. who returned it. “oh she already got started arranging the chairs.” sophia only hummed at that and got to work. walking past karina who didnt even spare a glance at the girl who was glaring at her.

you got back to work. sophia was still embarrassed about being late in front of you (and karina). sophia kept sneaking glances at you while you’re working. watching the way your shirt rides up when you reach for something. the way your arms flex when your pushing onto the wires hard.

sometimes between that you joined her in arranging the chairs since karina didn’t help. but she enjoyed the view of you carrying the heavy chairs for her. it made something inside her stomach swirl.

sophia feels stupid. she’s thinking of stuff she should never imagine. she shook the thoughts away from her head as quickly as it came.

after awhile karina leaves the auditorium to grab something from the music room. suddenly the silence wasn’t awkward anymore. it was comfortable. the scrapes of chairs and sounds of tape and clattering was calming.

it was until you broke it. calling for sophia backstage near the curtains. “soph could you help me with this.”

sophia glances up and sees you by the curtains, your hand tugging gently at one of the thick panels that’s gotten caught up in some tangled wiring. you’re halfway bent over, one hand braced on your thigh and the other tugging carefully at the wires. the fabric’s bunched, looped over itself, refusing to budge.

“this one’s stuck?” she asks, walking over.

“yeah,” you nod, straightening up a bit. “i need you to hold the curtain still while i pull this out. it keeps getting worse every time i try alone.”

sophia nods, stepping beside you and gripping the curtain from the side. her hands sink into the thick material, and she shifts closer to reach the tangled part. just one small step. but it’s enough to close the space between you.

“okay, now pull that bit there,” you say, gesturing toward the bundle of wire stuck behind the fold.

you both move at the same time. she lifts the curtain, you pull the wire, and something shifts under her feet.

“fuck-” the fabric jolts loose suddenly and swings inward, wrapping around both of you in a slow, heavy sweep.

sophia stumbles forward, instinctively trying to untangle herself, but her arms catch around your shoulders when you tried to stand up straight to catch her.

“fuck,” she breathes out, eyes wide. “sorry—i didn’t mean to—” but she doesn’t pull away. She couldn’t. the curtain has fallen mostly closed around the two of you, trapping you both in this soft, dark cocoon.

she realizes how close your faces are. you’re pressed so closely together that your foreheads could touch if one of you leaned in an inch. and in the dim light, she can see every detail of your face. the way your lips part as you catch your breath. the way your eyes flicker to hers. your hand is still gripping her waist, firm and steady. she can barely hear her own thoughts over how loud her heart is beating.

a beat goes by. all you can think about is how her lips are right there. how they’re soft and pink and shiny with the same vanilla lip balm she always replies when she’s distracted. you’ve stared at her mouth more times than you’d admit.

wondered what that lip balm tastes like. wondered what she tastes like.before you said something. you whisper, almost like a confession. “i can’t do this anymore”

before she could ask you what. you pulled her in. you kiss her.

it’s not rushed, not hesitant either. it’s warm and slow and steady, like you’ve thought about this for a long time. like you’ve needed it. your hand around her hips was clutching onto her, and she freezes at first. because you’re kissing her.

her body goes stiff, and her heart stops. but then, almost like she’s waking up from a dream, her eyes flutter closed and she kisses you back.

the tension snaps like a rubber band. her hands tightens around your shoulders, dragging you impossibly closer to her, the curtain rustling around your hips. it’s messy, a little desperate. lips parting and clashing. her fingers dig into your shirt trying to feel you even more. she feels the way you sigh against her mouth, and it makes her dizzy.

her mind is spinning. this is happening. this is real. you’re kissing her, you want her, and she’s never wanted anything so badly in her entire life. her nose is filled with your scent. all she could think about is you. how good of a kisser you are. how she needed you–

“y/n!”

you and sophia tear away from each other like lightning just struck between you. both of you are wide-eyed, breathless, lips red and swollen.

sophia’s still holding your arm. you’re still gripping her hip. you let go at the same time.

you blink fast, heart still thudding. you clear your throat, trying to act normal. “yeah?” your voice

cracks slightly. you clear it again. karina’s footsteps get closer. you rush out from behind the curtain, hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, face burning.

sophia doesn’t follow immediately. she stays hidden, hand pressed over her mouth, heart racing. she can still feel your hands on her. the way your thumb had dug into her hip, the way your lips had moved against hers like you knew what she needed before she even did.

her mouth feels bruised. her skin is flushed all the way down her neck.

you kissed her.

#girl group imagines #girl group #girl group scenarios #katseye fluff #sophia katseye #katseye x reader #katseye imagines #katseye smut #katseye lara #katseye #sophia scenarios #sophia x reader #sophia imagines #sophia laforteza #wlw yearning #aespa karina #lara raj #yu jimin #divider by cafekitsune

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winterislife · 1 month ago

Text

The Battle of Hearts

Pairing: Karina x fem reader

Genre: enemies to lovers (kinda bad)

Words: 1.6k

A/N: hello I'm just new to tumblr so idk how to arrange this hehe and also I'm just a beginner in writing so feel free not to read and you guys can also give me tips to Improve it😊

---

Y/N had always prided herself on being the best. No one in her school had ever challenged her until Karina came along.

It wasn’t that Y/N was unintelligent—far from it. She was fierce, sharp-tongued, and always one step ahead of everyone else in every subject. But, no matter how hard she pushed herself, she always ended up second to Karina. It burned in her chest like a constant, unshakable fire.

Karina was tall, striking, with a brilliance that matched her looks. She was everything Y/N wasn’t. Where Y/N was all attitude, Karina was poised. Where Y/N’s talent was hidden beneath layers of snark and stubbornness, Karina’s intelligence shone through effortlessly. And, to add insult to injury, Karina was popular, the one everyone admired, the one everyone wanted to be.

Y/N hated it. She hated Karina.

It wasn’t just the grades, either. Karina’s mere presence in the classroom sent ripples through Y/N’s usually unwavering confidence. Karina's smile, effortlessly warm and disarming, made Y/N want to scream every time it flashed in her direction.

Y/N gritted her teeth as she walked into class, her gaze instinctively landing on Karina, who sat at the front, reading a book as usual. Karina didn’t even glance up. It only irritated Y/N more.

"Good morning, Y/N," Karina’s voice drifted through the air like a soft melody. Y/N couldn’t understand why it always grated on her nerves.

"Good morning," Y/N replied curtly, though she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. She couldn’t care less about Karina’s fake sweetness.

Y/N’s hands tightened around her books as she made her way to her seat. Every class with Karina was a game of nerves. Every time she was just slightly behind, it gnawed at her.

Karina, as usual, breezed through the lesson with ease, answering the teacher's questions before anyone else could even raise their hand. Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Show-off", she thought bitterly.

But it wasn’t just Karina’s academic brilliance that made Y/N so bitter. No, it was something more. Something that she’d never admit to herself, let alone anyone else. Karina’s beauty, her effortless grace—it made Y/N feel small, inadequate.

Still, Y/N couldn't let herself back down. She couldn’t afford to lose to Karina. Not when everything she had worked for was on the line.

If she thinks she's going to stay at the top, she’s got another thing coming, Y/N thought.

---

Days passed, and the rivalry between Y/N and Karina only grew more intense. Every test, every presentation, every little moment in the classroom felt like another battle to be won. Y/N didn’t back down—she never did. Her fierce determination kept her fighting for that top spot, no matter how many times she lost to Karina.

Yet, over time, something strange began to happen. The biting tension between them shifted, subtly at first, but unmistakably. Karina started to look at Y/N in ways that she hadn’t before. Sometimes, when they crossed paths in the hallways, Y/N would catch her watching, those sharp, intelligent eyes narrowing in a way that made her pulse quicken, even though she refused to admit it.

One day after class, as Y/N grabbed her bag, preparing to rush out of the room to avoid another “friendly” interaction with Karina, she was stopped.

“Y/N,” Karina’s voice rang out.

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. "Not again," she thought.

“What do you want, Karina?” Y/N’s voice was curt, defensive, but there was a slight tremor in it that she couldn't hide.

Karina stood at the front of the class, her gaze soft but unwavering. Her usual confident demeanor had a hint of something else—something Y/N couldn’t quite place. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Y/N shot her a skeptical glance. “About what?”

“About... us,” Karina said, taking a step closer.

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest. "Us? There’s no ‘us,’" she thought, though the idea gnawed at her.

“What’s there to talk about?” Y/N snapped, but her bravado was starting to crack under the intensity of Karina’s gaze.

Karina smiled softly, a gentle curve of her lips that made Y/N’s stomach twist in unexpected ways. “You know, Y/N, for someone so smart, you sure don’t see a lot of things right in front of you.”

Y/N blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Karina’s smile faltered just a bit, as if she was debating how much to reveal. “You’re not as invisible as you think you are,” she said quietly. “I’ve noticed you. More than you realize.”

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, please. You’re just trying to get under my skin again. It’s not going to work.”

But Karina wasn’t backing down. She took another step closer, her presence filling the space between them in a way that left Y/N’s pulse racing. “I think I’ve been getting under your skin for a while now.”

The words hung in the air, charged with an energy neither of them could deny. Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. Was Karina saying what she thought she was saying?

“Are you—” Y/N started, but Karina interrupted her with a shake of her head.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Karina said softly. “But we don’t have to talk about it right now. I just wanted you to know.”

Y/N’s mind was racing, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. She wanted to lash out, to argue, but instead, something held her back. Something about the sincerity in Karina’s voice, the way she looked at her, made her hesitate.

“You’re… not mad at me anymore?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t know why she cared, but she did. She couldn’t ignore it.

Karina’s expression softened even more. “No, Y/N. I’m not mad at you. I never really was. I just wanted to get to know you better.”

Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest. This wasn’t how she thought things would go. She had spent so much time despising Karina, focusing on her as the enemy, that she hadn’t realized just how much she had come to depend on her presence—her every move. Her words, her smile, everything about Karina now felt like a part of the puzzle that was her life, a puzzle Y/N had spent too long trying to ignore.

Before she could speak, Karina’s hand brushed lightly against hers, the touch soft and fleeting, but it was enough to send a shockwave through Y/N.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Karina added quietly. “But just think about it, okay?”

Y/N swallowed, staring at their hands for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet Karina’s. Her heart was in her throat, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t have the words to keep fighting.

“Okay,” Y/N muttered, feeling strangely vulnerable. She couldn’t help but feel the weight of Karina’s presence in a way she never had before.

As Y/N walked out of the classroom, her mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions. She couldn’t admit it—not to herself, not to anyone—but for the first time, she felt something other than disdain for Karina. Something unfamiliar, and maybe, just maybe, something a little dangerous.

---

The days after that conversation with Karina left Y/N in a whirlwind of confusion. She couldn’t escape the thoughts of Karina, not completely. Every time she closed her eyes, Karina’s smile flashed before her. Every time they passed each other in the hallway, Y/N felt the same strange sensation—the flutter in her chest, the way her pulse seemed to race when their eyes met. It was disorienting, and for the first time, it was all Y/N could do to keep her composure.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t—admit to herself what was happening.

It wasn’t just that Karina was brilliant, beautiful, and graceful. It wasn’t even that Karina was starting to see past Y/N’s tough exterior, to the person she’d spent so long hiding. No, it was deeper than that. The truth was undeniable, and yet, Y/N couldn’t bring herself to confront it.

"I don’t like her," Y/N told herself over and over, though the words felt empty and hollow each time. "I can’t like her. Not Karina."

But the more she tried to push those thoughts aside, the stronger they became.

The following week, Y/N found herself in the school library, desperately trying to focus on her studies, but her thoughts kept drifting. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Karina had looked at her when she said she wanted to get to know her better. The softness in her eyes, the vulnerability she rarely showed to anyone.

"She’s just playing games," Y/N tried to convince herself. "She’s just trying to mess with me. She’s always been so... perfect, and I’ve always been the one who had to fight for everything. There’s no way she could actually like me."

Yet, every time she thought about Karina’s words, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more there. Karina had said it herself: "I just want to get to know you better." What did that mean? Was she really interested in Y/N? Or was this just another one of her attempts to get under Y/N’s skin, to show that she was untouchable, to play with her emotions like a cat with a mouse?

But no matter how much Y/N tried to deny it, she couldn’t stop wondering if Karina was being honest. And that, more than anything, unsettled her.

“Y/N?”

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Karina standing at the entrance of the library, a hesitant expression on her face.

“Uh, hey, Karina,” Y/N muttered, her heart racing despite herself. She quickly shoved her textbook aside, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Karina said, her voice soft and unassuming. She took a step closer, her eyes scanning the bookshelves as if she were looking for something.

“No, it’s fine,” Y/N replied, forcing a casual tone into her voice. She leaned back in her chair, trying to appear nonchalant, though her heart was still pounding in her chest.

Karina paused for a moment, then sat down across from Y/N at the table, her movements graceful and deliberate. She looked up at Y/N with a soft smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to study together for the upcoming test. I mean, we’re both at the top of the class, right? Might as well make the most of it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, still trying to keep her cool. "Why is she doing this?"

“Sure,” Y/N said, not wanting to appear too eager to spend time with Karina, even though every part of her was screaming to do just that. “But don’t think I’m going easy on you. You might be the top of the class, but I’m still right behind you.”

Karina chuckled softly, her laughter light and melodic. “I wouldn’t expect you to. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile in return, though she quickly wiped it away, reminding herself that this was still a competition. She had to keep her guard up. "No feelings. No distractions."

The two of them spent the next hour studying in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of pages and the occasional tap of a pencil. But even in this quiet space, Y/N couldn’t ignore the way her heart raced every time Karina looked at her, or how every brush of their hands or shared glance sent a jolt of warmth through her.

"Focus," Y/N told herself. "You’re here to study, nothing more."

But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the pull between them. The way Karina would glance at her over the top of her book, the way she would smile whenever Y/N got something right, her eyes lighting up with genuine pride. Karina was warm and attentive in ways Y/N had never expected.

And the worst part? Y/N was starting to enjoy it. More than she should.

“Y/N,” Karina said suddenly, breaking the silence. Y/N looked up, startled.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re a lot more than just the ‘second top student,’” Karina said, her voice serious now. There was no hint of teasing, just a quiet sincerity that Y/N wasn’t used to hearing from her.

Y/N blinked, unsure of how to respond. Her throat felt tight. "She’s looking at me like..."

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked, her voice hoarse despite her best efforts to sound normal.

Karina didn’t answer right away. She just stared at Y/N, her expression unreadable. Then, as if making up her mind, she leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, you’re smart, yes. Fierce, yes. But there’s so much more to you, Y/N. You don’t have to keep pretending that you’re just the tough girl who doesn’t care. I see through that.”

Y/N froze. She had no words. The way Karina was looking at her... it was as if she could see straight through the walls Y/N had built around herself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N muttered, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears. She clenched her fists under the table, trying to fight the heat rising in her chest.

“I think you do,” Karina said softly, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s with a knowing intensity. “But I’m not going to push you. Not now. I just want you to know that I’m not the enemy here, Y/N.”

Y/N swallowed hard. Her emotions were all over the place—confusion, fear, desire, and something else she couldn’t name. She looked away, unable to meet Karina’s gaze anymore.

"What do I even feel?" Y/N thought, her mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. She didn’t want to like Karina, didn’t want to admit how much she was drawn to her. But the more Karina’s words echoed in her mind, the more Y/N realized that the lines between hatred and attraction were starting to blur.

“I’ll think about it,” Y/N whispered, more to herself than to Karina.

Karina smiled softly, and for the first time, Y/N didn’t feel the need to push it away.

---

The following day, Y/N couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation with Karina. Every time she tried to focus on anything, her mind kept circling back to those soft words Karina had said, the way her gaze lingered on her, the warmth in her voice when she spoke.

It was maddening.

Y/N tried to convince herself that she was just overthinking it. Karina was a flirt, right? It was just a game for her. After all, she had everything—brains, beauty, popularity. Why would someone like Karina be interested in someone like Y/N, who was always second-best, always fighting for attention?

"She’s just messing with me," Y/N thought bitterly. "It’s a game, and I’m not going to play along."

But despite all the arguments swirling in her mind, there was a part of her that couldn’t let go of what Karina had said: "I’m not the enemy here, Y/N."

Y/N tried to ignore it, but it gnawed at her like a splinter she couldn’t pull out. Her chest tightened every time she thought about Karina’s soft smile, the warmth in her eyes.

That afternoon, as Y/N walked down the hallway, she spotted Karina by her locker, laughing with a group of friends. The sight made Y/N’s heart skip a beat, but it also triggered something else—a spike of irritation that had been building since the day before.

Without thinking, Y/N marched up to her, her steps quick and purposeful.

“Karina!” Y/N’s voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the hallway.

Karina looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

Y/N didn’t give her a chance to respond. “I’m done with this, Karina,” she said, her voice loud enough that it turned heads. “Stop playing your little games. I’m not some toy for you to mess with. I get it, okay? You think it’s funny, seeing me squirm, but I’m not falling for it.”

The hallway fell into a tense silence as people turned to watch the scene unfold. Karina stood frozen, her smile faltering, her friends exchanging confused glances.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Karina said, her voice softer now, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. “I’m not playing any games. I don’t—”

“Don’t give me that!” Y/N cut her off, her emotions spilling over like a dam breaking. “You act like you’re interested, like you care, but I know better. You’ve probably got some bet or something with your friends to see how far you can go. But I’m not stupid. I’m done being your plaything, Karina.”

Karina’s eyes widened in shock, and for a brief moment, Y/N saw something there—something vulnerable, something raw. But Y/N didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to feel the pang of regret starting to form in her chest.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Karina said quietly, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m not playing with you. I never was.”

Y/N shook her head, stepping back. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not falling for it anymore.” She turned on her heel, walking away, leaving Karina standing there, looking bewildered and hurt.

Y/N didn’t stop walking until she was outside, standing in the cold air, trying to steady her breath. The rush of adrenaline had started to fade, and now all she felt was an overwhelming sense of guilt.

"What did I just do?" Y/N thought, her heart pounding in her chest. "I shouldn’t have yelled at her like that. What if I was wrong? What if…"

But the more she thought about it, the more her anger flared again. She couldn’t help it. The idea of Karina playing with her emotions, of pretending to care just to mess with her, felt like a betrayal. Y/N hated feeling vulnerable, hated the idea of letting someone in only to be hurt.

But there was another voice, quieter and more persistent, that refused to be silenced. "What if Karina wasn’t playing a game? What if you’re just too scared to admit the truth?"

Y/N clenched her fists. "No. It’s easier to hate her. It’s easier to believe she’s just playing with me."

---

Later that day, Y/N was in the library, trying to drown out the guilt and confusion with more studying. She had her books open in front of her, but her mind kept drifting back to Karina. The way she had looked at her, her hurt expression, the way she hadn’t even tried to defend herself when Y/N accused her of playing games.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Y/N.”

She turned quickly, expecting to see one of her classmates, but instead, it was Karina. She was standing at the entrance of the library, looking hesitant, her expression soft and earnest. There was no hint of a game in her eyes, no teasing smile. Just… sincerity.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

“What do you want?” Y/N asked, her voice more defensive than she intended, but she couldn’t help it. Seeing Karina here, after everything that had happened, made her feel exposed, vulnerable.

“I just… I need you to understand,” Karina said, taking a cautious step forward. “I’m not playing with you, Y/N. I never was. I don’t know how to make you see that, but I can’t just let you walk away thinking that.”

Y/N stared at her, her emotions in turmoil. "Why does she look so… hurt?" Her heart clenched at the sight of Karina standing there, clearly torn.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now. “I thought… I thought you were just messing with me. I thought you were playing some kind of game, like everyone else.”

Karina’s expression softened, and she took another step closer. “I’m not like everyone else, Y/N. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never did. But I think you’re afraid to let someone care about you. And I get it. I do. I’ve seen how hard you fight to keep everyone at a distance. But I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to be close to you. To let you know that you don’t have to keep fighting alone.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her chest. Karina’s words were like a punch to the gut—soft, honest, and real. It was everything Y/N had been too afraid to admit, even to herself. The truth that had been lingering in her chest for weeks.

"Could it really be true?"

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to untangle the mess of feelings inside her. The only thing she knew for sure was that, no matter how hard she fought it, something between her and Karina was changing.

Something "real".

---

The days after the confrontation were some of the hardest for Y/N. Every time she saw Karina in the halls or in class, the weight of what she had said—the way she had yelled at her, accused her—gnawed at her insides. She tried to keep her distance, pretending that everything was fine, but every time she looked at Karina, she felt a pang of guilt that she couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just the way she had yelled at Karina. It was the realization that she had been wrong. That Karina wasn’t playing some cruel game. She wasn’t toying with Y/N’s feelings for fun. Karina had been honest with her, vulnerable in a way Y/N had never expected.

And now Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore—couldn’t ignore the way her heart fluttered every time Karina smiled at her, the way her thoughts had drifted toward Karina more and more each day.

It wasn’t just admiration. It was something deeper. Something she had been too scared to admit.

I like her. I like Karina.

That thought had been haunting her for days, and Y/N couldn’t run from it any longer. She had to make things right. She had to apologize.

It was after school when Y/N finally found the courage to confront Karina. She spotted her walking toward the gates of the school, her long hair swaying gently behind her, and for a moment, Y/N hesitated. What if Karina didn’t want to hear it? What if she was angry with her?

"No. You need to apologize," Y/N thought firmly. "This isn’t about pride anymore."

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked briskly toward Karina. The moment Karina saw her, her eyes widened in surprise, and she stopped walking, waiting for Y/N to catch up.

“Karina,” Y/N called out, her voice shaky but determined. “Can we talk?”

Karina hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression softening. “Of course. What’s up?”

Y/N’s heart raced as she took a few steps closer, standing in front of Karina. The words she had rehearsed in her mind seemed to disappear as soon as she opened her mouth.

“I… I owe you an apology,” Y/N started, her voice low. She looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I’m sorry for what I said the other day. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Karina blinked, clearly surprised. “Y/N, you don’t have to apologize. I understand why you were upset. I should’ve explained things better.”

“No,” Y/N interrupted, shaking her head. “It wasn’t just that. I was… I was angry at myself. And at you, but it wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N felt her chest tighten, the vulnerability of the moment overwhelming her.

“Y/N,” Karina said gently, her voice softer than usual, “It’s okay. Really. I know I made you feel like I was playing with you, and I never meant to make you feel that way. But… I’m not playing games. I’m not that person.”

Y/N finally looked up, meeting Karina’s gaze. There was no anger there, only understanding. Karina wasn’t holding onto the past anymore. But Y/N still had more to say.

“I know. And I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, her heart pounding. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle you.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Me?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, you. I’ve been acting like an idiot because I didn’t want to admit that I… that I like you.”

Karina’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, Y/N thought she had said the wrong thing, that she had made things even more awkward. But then, Karina’s smile widened, and her expression softened.

“You like me?” Karina repeated softly, as if testing the words on her own lips.

Y/N nodded, her heart racing. “Yeah. I do. I’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to convince myself that it was just some stupid rivalry, but it’s more than that. I’ve been… scared.”

“Scared of what?” Karina asked gently, taking a small step forward, her voice full of warmth.

“Scared of being vulnerable,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of letting someone in. Scared of what liking you means. I’ve always fought to be the best, to not need anyone, and now… now I’m realizing that maybe I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

Karina’s eyes softened even further, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s hand in a gesture that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

“I’m glad you’re being honest with me,” Karina said softly, her voice full of tenderness. “I never wanted to make you feel like you couldn’t trust me. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m glad you’re letting me in.”

Y/N took a deep breath, finally allowing herself to feel the relief that came with letting go of the fear that had been holding her back for so long. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t,” Karina said with a teasing smile, but there was no malice behind her words. “But I’m willing to forgive you.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the tension in her body slowly melting away. “You’re too nice to me.”

Karina shrugged playfully. “I’m not perfect. But I like you, too, Y/N. I think you’re amazing. You’re fierce and smart, and I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the words. It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, the truth between them now out in the open.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Y/N whispered, looking at Karina, her voice full of sincerity. “Not with you. Not if you don’t want to fight, either.”

Karina’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with something that made Y/N’s chest feel tight. “I don’t want to fight anymore either.”

There was a brief, beautiful silence between them before Karina stepped closer, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s hand once more. “So... where do we go from here?”

Y/N hesitated for just a moment, her heart racing, before she finally allowed herself to answer, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Wherever you want to go.”

And with that, the walls that had once separated them—walls built on rivalry, fear, and confusion—came crashing down. The tension that had once been so suffocating now felt lighter, more hopeful. Karina was no longer just the girl who had been the object of Y/N’s rivalry. She was someone Y/N wanted to be close to.

Someone Y/N finally allowed herself to care for.

---

#aespa karina #aespa #aespa x fem reader #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #yoo jimin #yoo jimin x fem reader #karina #karina x fem reader

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chvoswxtch · 11 months ago

Text

a little more time

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you're starting to question just how much patience you have left for frank.

warnings: swearing, frank getting ganged up on by our latest dynamic duo, more angst than an early 2000s emo playlist

word count: 3k

a/n: & here is the second half of this week's double drop. enjoy the calm while it lasts, bc the storm is right around the corner. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

Frank raised his right fist to knock three times against an apartment door labeled 6F. The person who the apartment belonged to was still a mystery to you. Neither you or Frank had spoken a single word to each other the entire short drive over. Instead, you’d sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over your chest, glaring out the window.

A minute later, the sound of a lock twisting broke the tense silence, and the front door was opened. A tall man stood in the doorway, his dark brown eyes wandering over Frank from head to toe and back up again. He was somewhat obstructed from your view since Frank was standing right in front of you, but you saw the way his full lips pursed in lighthearted disapproval before he lightly smacked them.

“Aw, shit.”

“Good to see you too, Curt.”

“Wish I could say the same. You know, most friends do normal shit. Go fishin’ down in Florida, maybe golf or somethin’, but you, you’re always draggin’ me into some bullshit. So what kinda trouble you bringin’ me now, Frank?”

“Told ya I needed you to look after somethin’ while I was gone for a bit.”

The man wore a light gray long sleeved henley, and the top of three buttons was undone. The waffle knit fabric stretched tightly over his biceps when he crossed his arms over his chest, lifting one of his dark brows in question with a look of suspicion on his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t say what though.”

Frank finally stepped aside, and the man fully came into view before you. When his dark brown eyes landed on your figure, an expression of surprise softened his skepticism. His onyx brows lifted in a show of disbelief as he glanced between you and Frank, giving him a pointed look.

“She’s with you?”

“Yeah. Curt, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Curtis.”

Looking up at Curtis, you did your best to give him a polite smile along with a faint nod of your head.

“It’s nice to meet you, Curtis. Frank’s told me nothing about you.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

Indents of puzzlement creased along his forehead and without another word, Curtis reached his right hand out to wave his palm back and forth in front of your face, which took you by surprise and made your brows knit in curiosity while you blinked a few times. Frank looked at Curtis inquisitively.

“The hell you doin’?”

“Just checkin’ to see if she was blind.”

“Why?”

Turning his head to look at Frank again, Curtis looked him up and down once more with an expression of dubiety.

“Couldn’t think of another logical explanation of what the hell she was doin’ wit’cho ugly ass.”

Blowing a puff of air past his lips, Frank shook his head and turned to glance around to his left. Meanwhile, you had to cover your mouth to stifle the laugh that Curtis conjured with his quick response. Shaking his head, Curtis reached out to take your bag from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to come inside, all the while side-eying Frank.

“Could’ve at least carried her bag for her, damn.”

Frank looked genuinely offended by the implied accusation that he hadn’t even attempted to be a gentleman, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling at the way he scrunched up his face in defense.

“She wouldn’t let me.”

“Mhm.”

Curtis’ apartment was modest and simple, not overly decked out in furniture and decor, but definitely more homely than Frank’s. It felt awkward standing in the middle of a stranger’s living room that you had just met, knowing that you were supposed to be staying here for a few days. That thought had something from Frank and Curtis’ exchange suddenly sticking out in your mind.

Frank had told Curtis he needed him to keep an eye on something, not someone.

Turning around to face them, your narrowed gaze landed on Frank and creases of irritation swiftly knit between your brows.

“You didn’t tell him that I was coming, did you?”

Both men’s heads snapped in your direction when you spoke. Curtis glanced between the two of you with a comical look on his features as he picked up on the fact that Frank seemed to be in trouble with you. It was evident how hard he was trying to suppress a smirk. Frank on the other hand turned to face you fully, and he returned your expression of irritation with his own annoyed, broody scowl.

“Didn’t wanna ask over the phone-”

“And you didn’t think to ask in person before you packed me up and dropped me off?”

Curtis had his arms folded over his chest, and he was fighting to hide his amusement behind his right fist. His broad shoulders were subtly bouncing, and the sound of his snickering caused Frank to snap his head in his direction with a deep frown. Clearing his throat, Curtis turned to look at you with an easy going smile and gave a loose and dismissive wave of his right hand.

“Look it uh, it ain’t a big deal, alright?”

“It is when he’s the only one here who seems to know what the fuck is going on.”

The tension between you and Frank was thick, almost visibly lingering in the air, and Curtis quickly picked up on it. He’d placed your bag on the floor by his feet, but in an effort to diffuse the situation, Curtis reached down to pick it up in his left hand and loosely gestured with his right towards a hall around the corner from you.

“Here, why don’t we get you set up, alright? I uh…needa talk to Frank right quick.”

Curtis regarded you with a sympathetic glint in his eye, and it had guilt filling your bloodstream like lead. Your presence here was an imposition, whether he would say that out loud or not, which you figured by his kind nature he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair of you to stand in the middle of his living room and argue with Frank, disrupting the peace of his home and causing him to feel uncomfortable. Silently nodding your head in agreement, you gave Frank one last forlorn glance before you turned to follow Curtis.

In the midst of your disappointment, both in Frank and yourself, you noticed that Curtis seemed to walk with a slight limp. It wasn’t overly apparent, and you’d only observed it because your eyes were on the ground in front of you following the heels of his shoes, but it stoked your curiosity. Frank hadn’t told you anything about him, you hadn’t even known he existed until today, but he was clearly someone important if Frank was leaving you in his trusted care. Your mind began to wonder where that integrity stemmed from. When he placed your bag down on the edge of his bed, you quickly shook your head and spoke up.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own room.”

Curtis turned his head to look at you and studied you silently for a moment. His deep brown eyes flickered between the door of his bedroom and your own gaze. Taking a step in your direction, he reached out with his right hand and gave your shoulder a comforting light squeeze.

“We’ll talk about that later. Why don’t you just sit down for a minute, take a deep breath. Unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.”

You hadn’t even been consciously aware of the fact that you were doing all of those things until Curtis pointed them out. Sucking in a deep breath, you let it out in a slow exhale through your lips, trying to release the frustration and stress in your body along with it. When you sat down on the edge of his bed, your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and you folded your hands in front of you with your forearms resting on your thighs, staring blankly ahead at the wall.

“So, this kind of thing is normal with him?”

Slipping his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Curtis looked over at you while leaning back against the wall and granted a nod of his head.

“I’ve known Frank a long time. Kinda gotten used to him bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“And you put up with it?”

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of you at that moment. The way that Curtis looked at you told you that he knew what you were really asking him with your veiled question.

Should I continue to put up with it?

Letting out a deep exhale of his own, Curtis pursed his full lips and a contemplative look covered his features. After a moment, he returned your interrogative stare with an expression of empathy and lightly shrugged his broad shoulders.

��I’ve never known Frank to do somethin’ without a purpose. Whether it’s right or wrong, I can’t say. But, the intentions come from a good place. Most of the time.”

The way he spoke that last part caught your attention, and you looked up at him in intrigue. He had trailed off a bit, his dark brown eyes wandering towards the empty space next to your side. You wished you could read the thoughts currently passing behind his eyes. Curiosity creased along your forehead as you tilted your head to the side in question.

“Most of the time?”

Curtis’ eyes focused back in your direction and he held your gaze silently for a few seconds. You could see on his face that he knew he had said maybe just a little bit too much. He turned his head to glance towards the open bedroom door once more before returning your look of query. His lips faintly tugged into a reassuring smile when he nodded his head in your direction.

“Like I said, there’s always a purpose.”

While Frank and Curtis were conversating in the living room, you took a moment to look around the quaint space of Curtis’ bedroom. Eventually your eyes fell on your bag that sat on the mattress to your right, and all of a sudden it seemed to dawn on you that Frank had packed it for you. Unable to deny your curiosity, your fingers reached out to tug back the zipper, peering inside to see what clothing and necessities he’d chosen.

On one side of the bag, a pile of clothes were folded neatly, and on the other was your toiletry case. Thumbing through the pile of clothes, you felt a tightness in your chest seeing that Frank had chosen outfits that you would’ve picked for yourself. They were ones you wore regularly, and he’d even packed your favorite pajamas. Knowing that you liked to be overly prepared and have options in case you changed your mind, he’d made sure you had enough choices for a week, and he even managed to fit two other pairs of shoes in the bottom.

Frank had grabbed all of the essentials to pack in your toiletry case, everything that he knew you used regularly, and even a few things he must have just thought you might need. He hadn’t just randomly grabbed a bunch of things to shove in a bag and go. Frank had thoughtfully chosen every single item in this bag with you in mind. While you sat there with your bag open, staring at the contents inside, an unexpected wave of emotion built up along your waterline, and you hadn’t even noticed until you felt a trail of wetness cascading down your cheek.

A light knock on the bedroom door made you quickly wipe away the evidence of your emotional turmoil with the sleeve of your shirt, and when you turned your head, you saw Frank standing there in the doorway. He looked considerably calmer than he had twenty minutes ago, and seeing the remnants of sorrow shining in your eyes, his rough features softened into raw remorse. Glancing at your open bag sitting beside you, Frank looked down for a moment and cleared his throat.

“I uh…grabbed what I thought you would.”

Hesitantly lifting his head to meet your gaze, you saw that his warm brown eyes were full of unspoken apologies. Giving a faint nod of your head, you dropped your gaze down to your lap and spoke quietly.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Both of you had so much you wanted to say, but neither of you knew where to start, or what the right words were. The silence echoed loudly and the walls felt like they were tauntingly closing in around you. A sinking stone of intuition in the pit of your stomach had you prophesying the very real possibility that this would end with you left in bereavement, and that the romantic daydreams you had hand crafted in the back of your mind had been false fortune telling.

Frank took a few cautious steps towards you, and you could see his boots come into view in your peripheral as you kept your eyes downcast towards the floor.

“Sweetheart.”

God, the way he uttered that one word made your chest ache. There were a million different emotions packed into those two simple syllables, and you could hear the tender longing in his deep voice softly calling to you. Frank knelt down in front of you, his large hand reaching out to cup your face. He slipped his fingers into your hair right beside your ear, gently grasping the back of your neck and he tucked his thumb under your chin to lift your head slowly.

“Hey-”

Frank dipped his head to try and catch your eye. Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your line of sight to look at him, and the expression on his face broke your heart. His warm brown eyes were desperately pleading with you, darting between your lips and crestfallen gaze.

“-c’mon I don’t…I don’t wanna leave it like this.”

The warmth of his breath could be felt against your lips, and his eyes were frantically searching every inch of face for something…anything that could temporarily relieve this anguish until he returned with a permanent fix.

“Look if I could…if there was another way…”

Frank let out a deep sigh that trembled past his lips, and it was clear he was struggling to find the right words.

“Just…please. I’m gonna make this right, okay? I swear to you. I just…I need you to give me a little more time, alright? Just a little more. Can you give me that?”

It was hard to see Frank like this, the somber sheen to his eyes and the misery weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was asking for another strand of patience, but you didn’t know how much you had left, and it scared you to even think about what would happen when you ran out. It was unclear in your mind whether the love you had for Frank that was embedded deeply in the chambers of your heart could be enough to salvage the pieces he was leaving you with.

“Okay.”

Frank could hear the lack of conviction in your defeated tone, and it killed him. Deep down he knew he was asking too much of you without giving you any concrete reassurance in return, but he couldn’t see another path. All he could do was hope that your faith in him wouldn’t run out like grains of sand slipping through the narrow bridge of an hourglass, and that the consolation of your forgiveness could still be earned.

His soft lips parted, and there was an intense emotion in his eyes when he stared deeply into yours. It looked like he wanted to say something so badly, but he cut himself off before he could. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and let it linger for a moment before pulling away and retracting his hand from your face.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’ll be safe with Curt, alright?”

A pang of disappointment quickly spread through you. For a second you thought Frank might be the first one to speak those three words. If there was ever a time you needed to hear them, it was now. But then again, you didn’t know if you were ready to say them back.

Running your hand through the roots of your hair and pushing it out of your face, you sucked in your bottom lip and grazed it with your top teeth before letting it go and nodding.

“Yeah.”

Frank eyed you wearily for a moment before hesitantly rising to his full height. He didn’t want to leave things between the two of you so unfinished like this, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t know if he’d made things better or worse in attempting to leave on a smoother note. When he reached the doorframe, he paused and turned to look at you again, and it bothered him that you wouldn’t look at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, sweetheart.”

There was no verbal reply from you, just another nod of acknowledgement. Frank lingered there for a moment in the doorway, silently begging you with his eyes to look at him, but your gaze seemed to be permanently fixed on the floor. The image of you sitting there looking so dejected and disappointed burned into his memory, and he knew it would haunt him, even long after this was all over. He wouldn’t forget the moment he’d let you down so badly.

The only goodbye you got was the resonation of Frank’s heavy boots fading, getting fainter and fainter the further away from you he got. A few seconds later, the front door opened with a soft creak, and a murmur was exchanged before the sound of heavy wood sliding back into a worn frame was completed with the soft click of a lock.

The golden hour dripped through the thin plastic blinds, coating the entire room in a sundrenched glow, but the warmth couldn’t penetrate the endless and echoing loneliness that dug deep into your bones knowing that Frank was gone, again.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

Note

hey honey can i request a shy!reader x grumpy!eddie , maybe they’re pumpkin picking with friends & something angsty ensues but then fluffy & after they all go eat at the diner and get spooky themed orders 🤭

thanks for requesting lovie! — eddie gets grumpy on a fall outing with the gang (shy!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1.3k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s a big ol’ grump at Eugene’s Pumpkin Patch, but he’s being really brave about it. He follows you like a puppy, visibly unamused about the whole thing but trying hard to be a good boyfriend despite his woe.

“Ah! Look at this one!” you gasp at the sight of a pumpkin, in a sea of bright orange pumpkins.

Swallowed whole by your sweater, you crouch in the tall grass and reach for the tiny round thing hidden in it. The runt pumpkin sits neatly in your palms. “It’s so wittle,” you singsong up at Eddie in a tiny, high-pitched voice.

He smiles despite himself, laughing even though he’s grumpy, ‘cause you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m gonna get this one,” you announce affirmatively when you rise to full height again.

“You made me drive an hour out just to get the tiniest pumpkin they have?” Eddie asks, laughing still but with a subtle bite of annoyance.

You try to ignore it, though the weight of his aggravation makes you writhe. “But it’s cute…” you defend with a weak shrug. “And also, you have to get one, remember?”

You take a tentative step towards Eddie, standing chest to chest. He huffs and puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. His chocolate eyes flit around the expansive farm, dull and unimpressed. “They all look the same, so… I don’t think it really matters.”

“It does matter!” you insist, girlish and quiet and stubborn. “You have to pick the one you like the most— that’s the whole point!”

“You’re telling me there’s an art to pumpkin picking?” the boy teases with a crooked grin, tilting his head to the side so his curls bunch at his shoulder.

Still clutching the tiniest pumpkin either of you have ever seen, you nod. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

He scoffs again in a curt laugh. He looks around again, only to point to the one sitting by his feet.

“Alright… How about that one?”

“Eddie!”

“What?” he whines in the same pouty tone as you.

“Can you at least pretend you’re having fun?” you murmur, a bit sad you have to even ask.

You always spiral when he gets weird, secretly terrified that it’s all your fault. He doesn’t talk, so you overthink. Your brain gets mean, and you need Eddie to make you feel better — but he can’t because he’s weird. It’s unbearable. For both of you.

“It’s cold and rainy and Steve’s pants gave me a headache on the way over and I don’t feel good, okay? I’m sorry,” Eddie rambles with a pout, looking visibly pained about all of it.

Any excitement you had left leaves you like an ebbing tide. “Okay,” you mutter with a soft nod.

“I’m gonna go smoke,” the boy announces.

He smacks a fleeting kiss to your cheek before he goes but doesn’t bother to invite you to come with him. He doesn’t feel very deserving of your company right now, too selfish in his woe and painfully self-aware about it.

You stand in place while he walks back to the van, feeling utterly alone and unwanted.

“Where’d Eddie go?” Steve wonders when he walks up to you with Robin at his side.

They carry two pumpkins each, struggling with each of them because they’ve somehow managed to find the biggest ones on the whole farm. You figure they made a bet about it because everything’s a competition with them.

“Um… to smoke, I think,” you answer shyly, embarrassed to have been found alone for a reason you can’t name. “He just kinda… left.”

Robin scoffs. “I think he’s on his period,” she jokes with a gritty laugh.

“Yeah. He said my pants looked stupid before we left. I knew something was up.”

The brunette girl side-eyes the boy beside her. “I think he might’ve been right about that one, Stevie.”

You make a quiet exit when they begin to bicker back and forth. You duck through the bustling pumpkin patch and try not to trip in the tall grass on your way to Eddie’s van.

Your boots crunch over the gravel of the parking lot. You find him leaning against the trunk, blowing out smoke from his pink mouth, slouching like he’s weighed down by his own sadness.

“You okay, Eds?” you ask to announce your arrival.

His eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. He’d pretend to be fine if it didn’t take all the energy he had left. “No,” he answers honestly, then quickly corrects, “I mean— I am, but… I feel bad. I was acting like a dick…”

“Yeah,” you concur with a nod. “You were.”

He’s too shocked to hide it on his face. You’re never normally so confrontational. You’re usually too quiet for that, too soft. And you still are now, because you always are, but he feels like he deserves to see this sterner side of you.

“But it’s okay. I know you didn’t wanna come in the first place.”

He turns on his shoulder when you stand at his side, towering over you as he flicks the butt of his cigarette. “Yeah, but… I didn’t have to be such an asshole to you about it. I feel like I fuckin’ ruined this whole day, you know?”

“We all have our moments, Eds. It’s no big deal,” you assure with a weak shrug and a stronger smile. “We still have the whole afternoon left— you didn’t ruin anything. Doesn’t make me love you any less, either.”

Your words make him grin. Like, really grin — all wide and rosy and boyish. You make him smile like nothing’s ever hurt him. Like nothing’s ever been wrong in his life. Fuck, he’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.

“I love the shit outta you, you know that?” he mumbles but doesn’t give you a chance to answer. He tosses the cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out with his sneaker right before kissing you absolutely stupid.

He wraps his arms around your neck, smothering your face with his. No one’s ever been kissed as hard as he’s kissing you now. The realization makes you smile too wide to kiss him back.

He pulls away from you with a hearty smack. With pinker lips and chocolate eyes, he grins hopefully down at you. “So you’re not mad at me?” he wonders, gentle like a child.

“Yes,” you nod, playfully firm. “I’m very mad, actually.”

Eddie’s smile widens. He knows you’re joking and decides to lean into it. “What can I do then, huh?” he murmurs lowly to you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How can I make it up to you?”

He wants to kiss you again. He wants to get you in the back of his van in a vacant parking lot. He wants you to tell him to make you feel good and not to stop until you’re pushing him away.

You know all of this, ‘cause you can practically read his mind, so you decide to drive him crazier. “I want you…” you start in the same low tone, bordering on sultry.

Eddie’s already nodding.

You smile and continue.

“…To go pick your most favorite pumpkin in the whole patch, and then take me to Benny’s Burgers.”

Feeling slightly disappointed and utterly teased, Eddie searches the entire patch and finds the weirdest-shaped, wartiest pumpkin the earth has ever grown. He drives the gang to the diner after and sits you in his lap when all of you squeeze into one booth.

He shares his milkshake with you and lets you have the pickle slice that comes with his burger when you ask for it (‘cause everyone knows it’s the best part). It’s the purest form of love, if he has anything to say about it.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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ariseur · 2 months ago

Note

hi! may i req how cloud strife or maybe all ffvii men (if u want!) deal with a jealous reader? i saw ur jealousy hc's for them and it was sososo amazinf i love all of ur works sm !!! <33

# the color green 、 ffvii

✧˖*°࿐ featuring ; cloud strife, zack fair, reno, sephiroth, angeal hewley, genesis rhapsodos,

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ; sfw, established relationship, gender neutral reader, intended lowercase, individual characters — not grouped together/polyamorous, jealousy (obviously), genesis being a diva as per usual, zack calling u pretty, post nibelheim seph being lowkey manipulative and dismissive, lmk if i missed anything ^.^!!

✧˖*°࿐ note ; i’ve been meaning to get to this request but it’s been sitting in my inbox for a while (*´-`). . i did have fun making this though!! i forgot how nice it feels to make headcanons and include everybody lol. (and yes i know every headcanon post i make i change formats shh. . ) please request more!! i love them!!

- cloud strife, as clever as he can be, can also have his moments of density — people will flirt with him and it’ll fly right over his head sometimes. it’ll either be that, or he won’t know what to do in response, and will instead blurt out whatever response pops into his head at the moment.

- he’s not a bad looking guy (far from it actually), and he gets a fair amount of attention from women so i wouldn’t blame you for maybe getting a tad bit jealous . . . but i assure you that there’s no need to feel jealous with cloud; and he’ll let you know, too!

- when he realizes you’re jealous (whether that’s because you told him or because he somehow by some miracle notices), he’s so?? confused?? what do you care if she was flirting with him? isn’t it common sense that he’s only got eyes for you?

- it’ll probably come off a lot more curt and maybe even a little sassy with the way he responds, but it’s just because he doesn’t get it. cloud honestly does not care if somebody were to hit on him because at the end of the day, he comes back home to you — like a cat finding its way back on your windowsill, occasionally pawing at the glass for you to let him in.

- it’s even crazier if someone were to touch him because he’d just shrug them off. kinda like how when jessie hugged him at the end of that one mission in ffvii remake? “are you really that desperate?” as he’s trying to push her off him lol. cloud is kinda touch evasive as it is with most people, so it’d just be an uncomfortable situation all around for all parties.

- if you guys were to have a conversation, he’d definitely be pretty concise and short with it — that or he’ll unnecessarily go on a little awkward tangent as he kind of word vomits, but he essentially repeats the same thing; maybe throw in a huff of an ‘i love you’ in there somewhere. .

- (don’t think much of it, it’s not like i’ll do this every time, he says — as he’s pulling you in closer for a hug while his hand comes up to rest at the back of your head.)

ᯓ ᢉ𐭩. . .

- ever the restless puppy, zack fair. another one you most certainly won’t have to worry about! zack is, like cloud, very loyal and only has eyes for you. the only difference between them is that zack’s no tsundere and he’ll gladly admit that he only loves you!

- you can’t blame people for possibly flirting with soldier boy over here, he’s practically perfect — but with the opportunity that you get a little jealous, zack has no problem reassuring you.

- he might be a little oblivious though, like cloud at times. if it’s not as direct then he’ll simply view it as innocent, only because he’s head heels for you! you might have to tell him that it makes you uncomfortable to get his attention on the matter. he’ll apologize profusely for not realizing sooner, kisses scattered all around your face as you try to tell him it’s okay but he just won’t let up (￣▽￣). .

- he��s not above a liiiitle teasing though. . might take advantage of the situation and throw in a little playful tease about how much you love him, but it’s all in good fun — paired with him wrapping his arm around you and a boyish grin thrown your way.

- zack is so adorable, if somebody were to ever say, “your partner must be so lucky to have a guy like you at home,” in attempts to maybe fish out a confession that he’s (hopefully) single, he actually does not get it and will genuinely go on an hour long rant about how he’s so lucky to have you.

- (yes, he’ll even bust out photos of you that he carries on him and go, ‘yeah! that’s them! aren’t they so pretty?’)

- he’s also not above telling somebody off if they just can’t take a hint. he’ll start off with a little “i’m taken!” and a small laugh to lighten it up. but if they keep going then he’ll just hit them with a short, “not interested,” and move on with his day. god forbid anybody touch him either, he’d be so weirded out and would gag at the thought all day long.

ᯓ ᢉ𐭩. . .

- reno’s a nightmare if you’re ever jealous — only because he thinks it’s so cute that you get all fired up over people having the hots for him (even though. . he’s like such a dork lmfao), so he can’t help himself when he teases you, poking fun at the way you smack his hand away when he tries to point out the way you sulk in the corner at his quips.

- another one who doesn’t really understand it, since he’s obviously so in love with you. . . albeit, he’s obviously not above making a few harmless jokes at it.

- reno’s so sassy i honestly believe that he has the potential to make someone cry with how dismissive he is; like if anybody would touch him, he’d honestly just shrug them off or smack their hand away and cross his arms. he’s not one to have big reactions to these sort of things, but even if you didn’t tell him you were jealous, wtf are they touching him for??

- i don’t really see him trying to make you jealous to get a reaction though, reno feels smug enough knowing that you care about him so much.

- at first it might give him a little ego boost if it’s just a little praise or two — but honestly, i can imagine him actually being disgusted if someone were to make such bold advances towards him 😭 like touching him, complimenting him or his techniques, and he’ll honestly just make a face and walk away.

- he will admit though, he does think it’d be pretty hot if you confronted the person yourself.

- so annoying in the aftermath though. ‘i’ve gotta say — green’s a pretty nice color on you’ as he’s over here wrapping his arms around your waist while you curse him and try to push him away. he’s so irritating but i just wanna smooch him so bad.

ᯓ ᢉ𐭩. . .

- sephiroth is ultimately very amused with this, regardless of pre or post nibelheim — and his reactions might be a little frustrating because he’s literally just staring at you with a small smirk on his face as you try to talk to him. but, he’s definitely not something to worry about either!

- a gorgeous man who has a famed reputation, i don’t blame you for getting jealous; especially since he has a whole fanclub and doesn’t get to spend a lot of time with you during the week.

- he obviously knows what these fans are doing, he’s not oblivious to their flirtations but he just ignores them most of the time. you, most likely, pay more attention to them as they fawning over him on the online forums or are crowding and recognizing him when he goes places.

- however, seph’s pretty observant so he’ll notice when you’re jealous or feel uncomfortable. he’ll lean over and ask if you wanna go someplace else, somewhere quieter. at the end of the day, you handle it how you want to handle it and he’ll respect that — whether you confront the person / people or whether you decide to just talk to him about it.

- however, he’s not really one for a pleasure in public appearances so i don’t see him like walking with you or any sort of pda where everybody can see though. maybe he’s caught on camera walking over to you or something. . but other than that, he prefers to keep your love a little private for the sake of intimacy. why does your love need to be televised just to prove it? he may be a little awkward at times but he can show you he loves you any other day of the week.

- and with post-nibelheim seph. . i don’t think there’s any opportunities to be jealous sorry （ ; ; ). during this time, he has a very close eye on you and when you’re not with him, he’s always with you or around you in some way or form.

- with the possibility that you are, he’ll simply assure you that your worries are silly. a little dismissive but he tries to mean well. overall though (no matter what time period this is in), sephiroth will always reassure you that he’s yours and there’s nothing to worry about. nothing could come in the way between him and you ^3^

ᯓ ᢉ𐭩. . .

- angeal hewley is actually such husband material i need to marry him so bad. he’s like the person you have to worry the least about, i can’t even see you getting jealous over him only because this man knows all the right words on how to make you feel so loved.

- but alas, these are jealousy headcanons, are they not? so!! on the off case that you are indeed jealous because somebody’s flirting with angeal, i’m sure he notice fairly quick because like sephiroth; he’s very observant when it comes to you.

- for a man who won’t hesitate to make you breakfast and kiss you goodbye before long missions every single time, i’d expect nothing less. he’d ask you what’s wrong and he’d insist that the two of you talk about it — whether it’s because of people or just because of how little off time he can spend with you considering he’s a first class and all. . .

- although he doesn’t get as much attention as sephiroth or genesis with the fan clubs and forums, i’m sure there are some people who’d still be interested and attempt at flirting with him or invading his boundaries — to which he’d always respectfully decline and instead shift the attention to how he has you, his loving partner.

- he, too, is a little awkward when it comes to this stuff and verbal reassurance, but he doesn’t like for you to bottle things up and would always assure you that you can tell him about anything on your mind.

- if it’s work related, then he’d try his hardest to finish up all of his work and ask lazar if he can take a day off or two. . which will essentially be angeal’s only day(s) off for a while considering all the stuff he has to do as a SOLDIER, sorry :(

- he always comes home to you with praises after these conversations, though!! it’s engraved into his mind and he’s always conscious of it every interaction he has with you, wondering how he could slip something in there that’d wriggle into the grooves of your brain . . telling you that he does appreciate the things you do for him, and that he’s absolutely whipped for you . .

- (it’s a 50/50 thing though, he’ll either be very mature and sophisticated with his words or he’ll struggle with wording it and be a tad bit awkward lol)

ᯓ ᢉ𐭩. . .

- you thought reno was bad? wait til you see the absolute FIEND that genesis rhapsodos becomes.

- genesis, being the drama queen that he ultimately is, will unfortunately be as irritating as he can be when it comes to getting you riled up over him. it swells his ego a little too much and he will most definitely tease you about it (-.-;). . .

- we all know how many fangirls he has, and he’s all very flattered by the attention but he doesn’t really acknowledge them all that much once he’s in a relationship with you! he’s very much in love with you and even if he’s a little theatrical and cliché about it, he does genuinely care for you.

- but. . if he found out that you’re getting all jealous over some fangirls then he might just use that as a clutch to get you even more jealous.

- like reno, he also finds you very attractive when you’re jealous and while i love the man, he’s definitely the type of person to film a girl fight in the middle of public. he might even flirt back with someone to get you to do something about it (like the absolute menace he is).

- once it genuinely upsets you though, he’ll back off and confront you about it — in a much more gentle or overall better way than before. ooh, if he makes you cry or fight with him then he won’t stop beating himself up about it though. . which is a little silly considering how he started it in the first place.

- he’ll find you later, sitting next to you in a silence that overtakes the room — perhaps to you, it’s awkward, but to him, it’s pleasing. he might recite something he’s written for you or simply just say that he’s sorry, that he does care for you and would like you to care for him too. (it’s up to you whether you want to punch him or kiss him, idk both options look pretty good to me).

- genesis you beautiful man you, why must you be so frustrating sometimes.

𐙚 requests are open — february twenty-third, 2025

𐙚 comment to be added to taglist ; @xiansiii @alieeelinn @ch3rryfiles @snoopicle

#ffvii fanfiction #ffvii x reader #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy vii fanfiction #final fantasy 7 fanfiction #final fantasy 7 x reader #crisis core x reader #cloud strife x reader #zack fair x reader #sephiroth x reader #angeal hewley x reader #genesis rhapsodos x reader #reno x reader #reno sinclair x reader #ff7 x reader #kiss kiss #ᢉ𐭩 — odottie. . .

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siriuslylantsov · 4 months ago

Text

too close

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which avoidant!reader leaves the morning after.

tags: angst, fem!reader, avoidant!reader, bau!reader, implied sex but nothing graphic mentioned, one night stand kinda, r has had a bad previous relationship (not specified!) so she doesnt want anything more, early seasons spencer imagined.

a/n: my first fairly angsty piece, though i definitely think i could go heavier on the angst, this wasnt the write time. a part 2 can possibly happen but no promises! happy reading :)

wc: 835 (short and not so sweet)

spencer's arm is heavy over your waist, weighing you down in common decency.

you can’t just leave. it isn’t fair to him.

but you also can’t stay. staying means talking to him, and you did not want that. he's better off this way.

so you carefully lift his limb, he sleeps through it, thankfully. he sleeps through your side of the mattress springing up. he sleeps through the soft creaks of the floor as you tiptoe over to the pile of clothes, praying your underwear was somewhere in that midst.

god, you shouldn’t have stayed the night.

you put everything on in a hurry, haphazardly clasping your bra and clumsily zipping up your dress. when you bend to tie your laces though, he stirs.

“hey,” he croaks, voice unbelievably sleepy, rubbing his eyes. fuck.

your bag is slung across your shoulders, “hi, sorry. i didn't wake you, did i?”

“no, um- my circadian rhythm is pretty consistent,” he responds good-naturedly, a little awkward. he sits up straighter and the blanket pools around his hips.

you find yourself chuckling before you stop abruptly, you have to go. “i gotta go,” you mutter.

his eyebrows crease down the middle, confused, he finally takes in your attire. you’re fully dressed, ready to go. well he can’t send you off just like that, spencer isn't like that. he hastily shoots out of bed, grabbing at some clothes nearby.

“let me make you breakfast or something, or we can go to the bakery a few buildings over-”

“spencer-”

“or a coffee, morgan says i drink it too sweet but you can have it however you like-”

“no,” your voice rings out, firm.

he freezes in place, the bottom half of him redressed as he takes in your hardened expression. you’re so standoffish, it doesn’t take a profiler for him to see you wanted to leave. he deflates, almost imperceptibly.

“oh okay, sure,” his voice comes out small, eyes looking down at his fingers. he sits at the edge of the bed.

“i have work to do,” you offer up lamely, he’s still your friend and maybe some excuse is better than none. he knows you’re lying, and you know that he knows, the whole team got the weekend off. there is no work to do.

“mhm,” he acknowledges with a curt nod, resigning.

you felt bad, of course you did. he was there and he was willing. but maybe too, and maybe that's what's making you draw back as much as you are. regardless, the little pout he sports makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

“bye, spence. i’ll see you monday.”

“yeah,” he mumbles, downcast.

you’re walking up to him before you can properly process it, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. his eyes snap up yours, hurt. you exhale shakily and leave, moving briskly through his bedroom door, his living room and his front door before he can say anything.

can’t. you can’t. not again.

it rings through your head as you hurry down the stairs. the wind, as you step outside, makes your eyes sting, almost punishingly. you squeeze them shut, standing on the empty pavement. it’s early, the sun only just risen.

memories of the previous night come back in flashes as you wrap your arms around you, the cold air biting.

he was warm, so warm, holding you. you thought about the last time you were held like that, and how it wasn’t nearly as inviting. sweet things and praises whispered. entirely too much eye contact. and worst of all, you’d let him kiss you and you’d kissed him back, all too eagerly. you don’t usually but something about the way he had looked at you made you give in.

you always leave, this shouldn't be any different. but the guilt clung onto you like a leech as you walked yourself to the bus station and all the way home.

you’re standing in front of your mirror, walk of shame written all over the way you look. your fingers press into the area behind your ear where his lips touched constantly. your eyes stare back at you, cold and empty, how they usually look the morning after but now they're tinged with something else, sadness. your clothes smell like him, hell your skin smells like him. everything reeks pleasantly of spencer.

slowly you strip away your clothes, remembering how reverently spencer had touched you, light fingers dancing across your skin. pretty, he’d said in hushed whispers. just between the two of you.

god, stop.

you shake your head and press the heels of your palms into your eyes. colourful splotches float around in the darkness, a familiar brown begins to fill the expanse and you quickly pull your hands off, eyes blinking as you adjust to the light.

you’ll take a bath, a long one, and wash the previous night away. then you’ll take a nap, to pry off the lingering sleep. this was a one time thing, you are not falling for spencer reid.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fluff #fluff

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leonw4nter · 11 months ago

Note

I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 months ago

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hey! I love ur writing sm and you seem rly chill <3

this is kinda specific so I understand if it's too constricting for your creativeness

I have a bucky x reader hurt/comfort request where she's an avenger and lives in the compound (everyone does bc the beef from cacw all somehow magically disappeared and the giant withered grape decided to mind his own business) and she was also experimented on by hydra. Basically enemies to lovers bc the winter soldier hurt her and she can't stand to see his face but he doesn't know that's why she's so curt so he just thinks she's rude. One night she has nightmares (bc ptsd obv) and bucky hears her screaming and begrudgingly goes to check things out and hears that she's afraid of/fighting the winter soldier and he wakes her up and comforts her before she realizes it's him and tries to push him away and some happy fluffy maybe angsty ending that resolves itself with cuddles with bucky maybe?

You Know What You Did » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what he did, but you know what he did.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, language, enemies to lovers, mentions of HYDRA, slapping (once), crying, nightmares, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You and Bucky have known each other since you were experimented on by HYDRA. Ever since you two were able to escape HYDRA, you’ve been avoiding him. You walk around hurt. Bucky has zero idea what he did. He just assumed that you’re rude.

You walked in the conference room, stopping when you seen Bucky. You sat on the opposite side of the table, a few seats down. Bucky rolled his eyes at you.

“Why is Y/N always avoiding you?” Sam whispers, leaning over towards Bucky.

“How the hell should I know?” Bucky mutters.

You glanced over at Bucky once or twice during the meeting, glaring at him. Bucky furrows his eyebrows at your gaze, wondering why you keep giving him dirty looks. After the meeting, you left the conference room before Bucky.

“Hey Wanda.” Bucky walks over to her. “Do you know why Y/N is always rude to me?” He asks curiously.

“No. Why would I know?” Wanda asks.

“You read minds.” He says.

“Y/N told me not to read her mind.” She says.

Bucky nods before walking away and going back to work. Bucky was working out in the gym when you walked in there. You stopped when you saw him. You walked past him, completely ignoring him. Bucky stared at you for a moment, narrowing his eyes at you.

“What’s your problem with me?” Bucky finally asks.

“Excuse me?” You asked, turning attention to him.

“What’s your problem with me?” He asks again. “I did nothing to you and you’re always rude to me.” He says.

“Like you don’t know.” You say, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t know.” He says.

“Stop playing stupid, Barnes! You know what you did!” You say, raising your voice.

“Obviously I don’t! Care to elaborate on what you think I did?” He says.

You scoffed and shook your head at him. You rolled up your shirt sleeve, showing Bucky a scar on your upper arm from when he -the Winter Soldier- cut you while knife training during yours and his HYDRA days.

“You see this scar?” You pointed at the scar. “You cut me with a knife while knife training during our time in HYDRA.” You tell him. “Another time, you knocked me to the floor and made me hit my head on the floor. I can go on and show you more scars if you want.” You say.

Bucky shook his head no. He didn’t realize he- actually, the Winter Soldier was the one who did those things to you. That still doesn’t change how he feels about you.

“Now you know why I can’t stand to see your damn face!” You say.

You walked past him, purposely bumping into him. Bucky turned around and watched you walk out of the gym. Steve watched you walk past him in the hallway as he walked in the gym.

“Why’s Y/N so upset?” Steve asks Bucky.

“Ask her. I’d probably say the wrong thing and she’ll be even more pissed off than she already is.” Bucky says.

Shortly after the interaction you and Bucky had in the gym, he thought back to his HYDRA days. He tried to remember, but nothing comes to his mind. He doesn’t remember giving you those scars. He spent most of his day and nights thinking about it. Nothing about the scars and stories you told him rang a bell in his head. One night, he woke up from his dreamless sleep and remembered that he’s the one who gave you those scars and the trauma. To take his mind off of it, he decided to go to the gym to punch the punching bag since he’s not going back to sleep anytime soon.

As soon as he closed his bedroom door, he heard noises coming from your bedroom. Bucky walked over to your bedroom, which is across the hall from his. He pressed his ear against your bedroom door and heard you saying “Please stop.” in your sleep. That was enough to tell him that you’re having a nightmare. Bucky hesitantly put his hand on the doorknob. He debated whether or not to help you out or leave you alone. He decided to be nice and help you out. He quietly opened the door and closed it behind. The moonlight shining through the window showed Bucky that you were tossing and turning in bed. He sat down on the bed next to you.

“Y/N.” Bucky gently shook you. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” He whispers.

When you finally woke up, you seen Bucky sitting next to you. You automatically thought he was the Winter Soldier, due to the nightmare you just woke up from.

“Stay the hell away from me!” You say, scrambling away from him.

Bucky turned the bedside lamp on before helping you.

“Y/N, calm down. It’s just me.” He says softly.

You breathed heavily as Bucky got closer to you. Out of instinct, you started hitting and kicking at him to defend yourself.

“Stop it.” He says softly.

Bucky grabbed your arms with his hands and pinned your legs down against the mattress with his legs to get you to stop hitting and kicking at him.

“Please stop. I can’t do it anymore.” You say, your voice cracking and your eyes tearing up.

Bucky seen the pain in your eyes. He felt guilt in his heart. He let go of your arms and got off of your legs. As soon as he let go of you, you smacked him across his face, hard enough to make his head turn to the side. Bucky will admit that he deserved that.

“What part of me not standing to see your face do you not understand?” You asked.

“I heard you having a nightmare. I wanted to be nice and help you out.” Bucky says.

“You’re way past helping me out, Barnes.” You say, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Can you set your hate for me aside for a god damn second so I can apologize?” He asks.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned your back against the headboard, staring at him silently for a few seconds. You nodded, waiting for him to proceed with his apology.

“I never understood why you hated me until yesterday. I just assumed you were just rude. I had no idea that I- the Winter Soldier was the one who was the one who hurt you. If I was in my own mind back then, I would have never done that to you. You have to understand that I was under HYDRA’s control when they made me do those things to you.” He tells you. “I am so sorry. I don’t expect you to accept my apology. I don’t expect you to forgive me either. I understand if you don’t want to be friends with me and don’t want to work with me.” He apologizes.

You have to admit that Bucky’s apology was heartfelt. You do understand that he was under HYDRA’s control when he did those things to you. Now, you feel bad for the way you’ve been treating him.

“I’m sorry too.” You apologized.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Bucky says.

“Yes I do. I had so much hatred for you that I completely forgot that you were under HYDRA’s control when you did those things to me.” You say.

Bucky put a comforting hand on your knee.

“I completely understand.” He says softly, giving you a soft smile.

You gave him a soft small. You moved closer to him. Your face was closer to his. His lips were inches away from yours. Both of you closed the rest of the distance by leaning in. The kiss was passionate and sweet. His lips felt soft against yours. Deep down, past all of the hatred, you have feelings for Bucky. Bucky feels the same way about you. You two pulled away, gazing deep in each other’s eyes.

“I-” You closed your mouth, scared to confess your love for him.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky whispers.

You felt butterflies in your stomach when he called you doll.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” You finally confessed.

Bucky smiles and brought a hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it.

“I’m falling in love with you too.” He confesses.

You smiled and softly pecked his lips a few times. Then you two laid down. You laid your head on Bucky’s chest and he wrapped his arms around you protectively.

“Can we take things slow before jumping into a relationship?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I’m fine with that.” Bucky replies.

You smiled and snuggled yourself against Bucky. Bucky reached over and shut the lamp off.

“Goodnight, doll.” He whispers.

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You whispered back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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cinnamonest · 1 year ago

Text

Uhtceare

Yandere Ayato x Reader - "Failed escape attempt" series

(I still cannot publish posts that have people tagged. I don't know why, it just gives me an error popup saying it couldn't be processed. Apologies to those in my taglist.)

Warning: DARK CONTENT, noncon/dubcon, implications of forced/coerced marriage, masturbation voyeurism that’s also kinda forced, manipulative use of mental health and problematic way of addressing it, gaslighting and psychological manipulation, implied future forced drugging, there’s just a lot of my man being awful here

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“Ah, there you are.”

Of course. He would be right there at the entrance waiting, wouldn’t he.

You were hoping to get a few more seconds to put off the inevitable, but the reality of your situation was not so kind as to grant you that. It was all far too fast — the full events of the night before, the journey of being dragged back here — flanked on all sides by doushin all the while — all went by in a blur, leading up to this very dreaded moment.

You kept your gaze turned to the ground, unable to bring yourself to make eye contact. Your fingers curled, digging into the fabric around your thighs.

Nonetheless, without even hesitating nor willing it, you found your feet moving on their own. Perhaps it was instinct, to get away from the unfamiliar men that made you so uncomfortable and uneasy, and into the arms that, despite everything, were at least familiar, and thereby a comfort at the end of your long trial of distress and misery. Maybe you knew it was expected, and feared some consequence for not acting as you knew you should. Or maybe some of both.

Regardless, your feet shuffled forward, any thoughts muted in favor of instinct as you bounded over towards your husband — as much as you hated to acknowledge it, your one source of comfort. As you grew close, he reached an arm out, hand firmly planting itself on your back and pulling you in. Perhaps out of that same sense of fear at the thought of disobeying expectations, perhaps out of pure exhaustion, you allowed it without struggle coming to stand directly by his side, grasping at his clothes, burying your head against him and squeezing your eyes shut as if it would obscure the others’ view of you.

“I can’t thank you enough. You have no idea how worried I was about her,” he spoke to the arrangement of men now standing a ways away, moving his hand on to rest atop your head. “I apologize for the inconvenience. The poor thing gets a bit irrational from time to time. You know how it is.”

The other men only gave a brief, curt sound of acknowledgement. One, the own standing closest to the two of you based on how close the voice sounded, seemed to deem it appropriate to give at least some response. “Of course, sir.”

Not that that actually made any sense, that such a bizarre thing to say could ever warrant an ‘of course’ as a reply. But they weren’t there to be sensible, to assess the situation and act according to any supposed principles. To help. They were there only to follow through with an assigned task, one that they had not even tried to conceal in their expressions and tones towards you was an unwanted inconvenience, and to turn a blind eye to any conclusions they might draw.

Maybe that too was intentional — the estate lord could have easily sent his private forces to be the ones to escort you back to the estate, yet he chose to allow the public law enforcement to return you. Perhaps he knew you’d grown to resent the family’s private forces, and thereby had no issue inconveniencing them, whereas he knew you’d feel more embarrassment and guilt having strangers be forced to bring you all the way back… yes, the more you thought about it, that certainly seemed like that was his intent.

“I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Ah, I see, that’s good to hear.”

Your hands balled into fists.

The whole show made of it all was utterly humiliating — that too no doubt the intention — but you had no choice but to stand there. Doing something rash like running off to hide yourself from the embarrassment would only meet a worse consequence later.

The burning, bitter anger only made said embarrassment that much worse. It was consuming, maddening. Everything — this place, these people, their words and their attitudes, their dismissal of you as if you were a child or an animal — it made you so damn mad, and yet, you could do nothing but endure.

Your eyes burned. You blinked a few times in rapid succession. You couldn’t forgive yourself if you actually cried in front of these strangers. The back-and-forth between the two parties continued, but you did your best to tune out the words, knowing that listening would only hurt you further.

It wasn’t until there was movement that you returned your attention to them, pulling your head away from him to look — now they were turning, walking away.

Leaving you alone with him.

You then dared not avert your eyes from the ground, watching the men from your peripheral vision as they made their way down the path, growing smaller and smaller and they moved further away, until their footsteps were no longer audible.

All that remained was a heavy, palpable tension.

Avoidance was the easiest path — a foolish choice, of course, which you knew full well. It wasn't as if you could avoid the present reality forever, but nonetheless, you found yourself clinging to each precious second that ticked by, body growing stiffer as you braced yourself for the inevitable. Perhaps you could trick yourself into believing that if you just kept your gaze turned to the ground, nothing would happen.

But sure enough, you clenched your jaw as his hand moved upwards, and came to rest on your shoulder.

“Come on now. You're certainly tired. Let’s get you to rest for a while.”

His voice only made your stomach twist further. It was calm and gentle, not explosive or infuriated. It would have felt more assuring that way, if your fear could just be easily confirmed, rather than a calculated calm that felt far more dreadful and foreboding than any rage.

His hand moved from your shoulder, coming down to grasp your wrist. It wasn’t a sudden, harsh motion, nor was the grip itself strong enough as to be painful — but it was noticeably firm.

And then, he pulled. A soft tug, pulling you in the direction of the doors.

Your resistance was not a conscious choice, not something you thought about nor had any time to do so; it was only a reflex. Instinctively, your body stiffened, your feet dug into the ground, and thus his pull was met not with the meek obedience that was expected of you, with footsteps that followed where you were guided, but instead a firm resistance.

Your own realization of that resistance, what you’d just done, sent a sharp rush of fear through your veins.

And thus, for the first time since arriving, your gaze tilted upward, and your wide, frightened eyes met his.

His expression shifted. The amiable, pleasant smile half-faded, still present, but only barely.

“…Don't be difficult. Come on.”

Likewise, his voice dropped far lower, a dark and foreboding tone far removed from the one he’d spoken with just moments ago to the other men.

Your mouth opened, instinctively wanting to reply, but you couldn't summon a coherent thought. You were afraid, you were angry, you were so, so embittered and ashamed and wanted nothing more than to run to your room, close your eyes and burrow into the bed.

And for a moment, you considered the compliant option. If you just lowered your head and followed along, apologized and insisted you were just being petty or immature or whatever he would call it this time, and took whatever consequence was handed out, then you could do just that, confine yourself to your bed and try to forget it all.

But the shame only fueled the fury, like gasoline to a fire. It was his fault. As scared of punishment as you were, your pride could not stand for simply bowing your head, and as your mind raced, the sheer fury you’d been stewing in all throughout the night before, all the angry words you’d monologued in your head and vowed to spew at him when you saw him again, all came rushing back.

You swallowed, fingers curling even harder around the fabric around your thighs. Now that it was just the two of you, although you still fought it as best as you could, you couldn’t help that your eyes watered, burning as your vision blurred out of pure frustration and misery.

“I… I know you did all of this on purpose! I only got all the way out there because you let me, a-and…”

The words came out in a trembling, wavering voice, far weaker than intended.

He exhaled a heavy sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. His voice was still characteristically gentle, but you could hear his patience waning. “We can discuss this inside.”

“But I—”

“Inside.”

You stiffened, freezing in place. That was not a tone you heard often in your married life, more firm than normal.

You swallowed, gaze darting to the ground again, unable to summon a reply and not wanting to make eye contact again. With another heavy exhale, he pulled at your arm with a gentle tug, and this time, you followed, feet quickly shuffling behind his.

You didn’t say a word, though, through the full minute or so of walking across the courtyard, through the front doors, down the hall, only dimly lit today due to curtains hanging over the windows lining the walls. It occurred to you with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you were headed straight for your shared bedroom, rather than one of the estate’s many drawing rooms and lounges, which meant the anticipated conversation to come would be one you’d both want kept in privacy. Your stomach felt as if it were turning in knots, your chest compressed by an unseen force, each breath feeling strenuous and weighted.

And then, finally, you both came to a halt as you reached the last room at the end of the hall. You felt helpless, unable to do anything as you watched the handle of the door turn, stumbling in as you were guided forward by the hand that came to gently press on your lower back.

Likewise, equally pitifully, you could do nothing but stand there and wait as you listened for the door to close behind you, clenching your jaw at the trepidation in your chest from the footsteps on the floor behind you, but made sure to not let your fear swallow your fury.

“Now,” he began slowly as he moved around you to the other side of the room, voice now back to its usual tone, but still firm nonetheless, “I can tell you have a great deal you want to get off your chest, but you’ll have to forgive me for a moment… your well-being is my primary concern.” He looked you up and down, and his voice took on a note of concern that admittedly sounded sincere. “You aren’t hurt in any way, are you, dear?”

You bit your lip at the affectionate term, and more importantly, at how unbothered he came across. Granted, you now knew just how much of the past twelve hours or so had been entirely within his control, so it made sense that he was never genuinely distressed, but admittedly, it was also disappointing. Part of you wanted him to have been panicked and worried, to get the satisfaction of knowing you’d successfully gotten under his skin.

Still, you shook your head, keeping your gaze to the ground as you gave a curt, frustrated reply. “No.”

“Good,” his eyes closed for a moment, taking a heavy breath of pause. “Well, in that case…” He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. “I believe this would be the best time to give you a moment to explain yourself.”

You couldn’t miss the obvious foreboding in his voice, nor the way it made your body stiffen.

But you had already prepared for that — you knew it would be intimidating, that it would be awkward and shameful, but you had spent the previous few hours trying to preemptively harden your resolve against that. Besides, after it was interrupted earlier, you now had the chance to get back to what was essentially the pre-written script you’d memorized in your head of exactly every little thing you wanted to say to him.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, the you that was standing there in front of him was significantly less brave than the ‘you’ in the scenes you’d played out in your head on the journey home.

Still, you clenched your hands into fists, thinking you had to at least force him to acknowledge the one point you’d deemed most important.

“You let me leave.”

In your mind, you’d spoken with a bold voice and looked him directly in the eye… and while the same words came out of your mouth, they were instead said with a weak, shrill attempt at an accusatory tone, pathetically looking to the wall as you found yourself unable to summon the gall to look up, once more lacking the firm accusation and self-assuredness your imaginative self had had.

He tilted his head. “That’s not a very accurate way to put it. I never granted you any such permission… I was simply aware of your intent to run off, and didn’t stop you.”

For a moment, you contemplated asking how he knew — but you had a feeling the answer would only make you more upset. His voice was laden with a faux sincerity, a sort of disingenuousness that made your blood boil, enough to embolden you further as you continued.

“And you… you had people following me the whole time, I know you did!” Your voice began to get louder as you grew bolder, bitter anger strengthening you against any trepidation. “They didn't even do a good job! I started noticing them towards the end of it!”

"Well, that would be because they were specifically told that concealment was not necessary.” He kept up the dry manner of speech, seemingly unbothered by your fury. “They deserve a break from high effort jobs every now and then, surely you understand. Besides, they didn’t directly interfere with your little outing, yes?”

He was so calm in contrast to your visible irritation, no doubt at least in part deliberate. It only served to make you even more mad.

“They told the local doushin to — no, you told them to tell them! There’s no other way that could have happened! I-I, I got," in sheer frustration, you jerked your fists in a sharp downward motion, "arrested!"

“I’m very well aware.”

“They put me in jail!”

“I do believe that is the standard process for an arrest, yes.”

“I was all by myself for hours!”

“Naturally. I couldn’t allow you to be placed with any dangerous persons, that’s why you were put in a solitary space.”

You clenched your fists so hard they trembled. “You, y-you let me get that far in the first place, and, and…” A lump formed in your throat again, which you did your best to suppress. “…Just to make me go through all that… I was there for hours before they came for me…” Your face scrunched up as you fought the urge to cry.

You hung your head, shoulders falling as you let your body relax, the fuse of anger burning out as it turned to a quiet bitterness swelling in your stomach. What was even the point? You knew better than to think your emotions would be given any weight, treated as anything beyond trivial.

A few moments of quiet passed, perhaps to see if you would say anything more, or perhaps just to force you to wait in uncomfortable uncertainty. After a moment, he shifted his posture slightly before unfolding one arm, holding out his hand in a standard gesture of speech.

“And what have we learned?”

You never would have thought one question could send such a spark of fury through your body in a single moment. Everything, from the wording to the timing to his tone, felt utterly mocking, infantilizing in a way that made you seethe.

You swallowed, practically trembling. “That you’ll go to any lengths to humiliate me?”

He returned the extended arm to its former position, exhaling heavily, straightening his stance. “It's rather unfair to assume I had such malicious intent. Stopping you early on in the past has clearly not worked in the long term, so further measures were necessary.” He tilted his head to meet your averted gaze, reflexively turning your attention back to him, eyes connecting with yours. “My only intention was that you would have some time to reflect on your series of decisions… and hopefully return with a change of heart. These episodes of yours are worrisome.” He gave a brief pause before finishing, “claiming I had cruel intent when you know in your heart that I only arranged this because I care for you… that's rather harsh, isn't it?”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to acknowledge the notion that the words were genuine. Admittedly having fallen for the words die a moment, you mentally shook off the momentary feeling of guilt.

These situations always went the same way, you'd be driven to apologize and feel bad about your choices. You had never met anyone else in your life with such a mastery of speech-craft as to be able to control your emotions and actions with words as easily as if it were pushing buttons on a machine. The first few times, you'd actually fallen for it, found yourself completely malleable, psyche bending and shifting to another's whims. At least with time, you'd become more resilient, had learned to notice and recognize the attempts… so you believed.

You opted to avoid answering the quesiton. Instead of acknowledging his own words, you turned to another matter that had come to mind during your escapade.

“Aren’t you abusing your authority? How are you even allowed to do this to begin with?!”

He took another deep breath, as if it were a trivial matter, or one that shouldn’t necessitate explanation.

“It’s… complicated, but the law does fully permit estates to employ local forces to locate any missing property belonging to the estate… people employed or bound to it are a sort of grey area in that regard.” After a moment of pause, he added, “besides, I also made it very clear that you were not in your right mind at the time, so your wellbeing was of immediate concern, and they were happy to help.”

“What?” The anger in your tone only rose. “I was perfectly in my right mind, you, you… a-and I’m not…”

A few moments passed as you trailed off, having to pause to collect yourself, blink away frustrated tears.

He opened his mouth as if to respond, but seemed to decide against whatever he'd considered saying, closing his eyes and taking a breath before finally replying in a more exasperated tone.

“You're making yourself upset needlessly. I can only do so much… in the end, I only wanted to keep you safe. You have to be the one to accept the grace you're given. Wouldn't that be easier for you?”

There was still unease to his tone, but the way he said it was nonetheless indicative of a sort of tiredness, as if not wanting to carry on about the matter anymore. It almost sounded like he was saying that you “accepting” his “grace” was all that was required to bury the matter entirely.

You spoke slowly, cautiously.

“You’re not… mad?”

“…I never said that.” He shifted away from leaning against the wall, standing upright. ”Of course, I can’t allow this to go entirely unacknowledged.”

He took a few steps towards you, and you fought the urge to step back, keeping your arms rigidly straight at your side as he continued.

“Normally, a proper form of consequence would be in order… however, after consideration, I realized that this was in large part my own fault, and I owe it to you to take responsibility for that.”

The words took you by surprise. The idea that he was in any way acknowledging that he had any responsibility for what you did was baffling, all things considered. He had never once even acknowledged that refusing to let you leave the estate was essentially holding you prisoner, and usually insisted that everything he did was what was best for you, even if, as he seemed to believe was the case, you did not understand that.

You hesitated before replying. “What… what do you mean?”

He flashed you an amiable smile. “A lesser person would only act on their momentary frustrations, but I’m not the sort of person who acts without understanding the situation. Luckily, I do understand you.” He looked off to the side, holding a hand up to his chin in a pensive pose, before adding in a quieter voice, “I made the mistake of getting too caught up in my work recently. Acting out over feelings of neglect is entirely different from misbehavior out of sheer petulance.”

He turned his head back towards you again before finishing,

“It would be cruel to respond to a cry for attention as if it were ordinary disobedience.”

The words took you aback, and you hesitated in your response, but as it fully registered in your mind, the momentary surprise was replaced with shameful fury. You held your arms firmly at your side, hands balled into fists as you replied.

“What?! I didn't— I didn’t do it for attention!”

You felt foolish for thinking for even a second that he might actually empathize with you, might finally come to enough humility to realize that much of your perceived disobedience was due to the sheer degree of meticulous, total control he held over everything you did. But no, instead, your attempt to run away was being treated as attention-seeking. It felt belittling, degrading.

He took a short breath, as if about to say something, but as his gaze fell upon you again, he simply exhaled, an amused smile forming on his face, replacing the former exasperation — and only infuriating you further, realizing even your anger wouldn't be taken seriously.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He made no effort to hide the dismissive amusement in his voice, either, but cleared his throat before returning to a more neutral tone before you could give any retort. “Regardless, you've been through a lot already. If you can be mature and calm down, make some acknowledgement of the trouble you’ve caused and show some remorse, then, I'm willing to somewhat overlook this.” Making direct contact between your eyes and his, he finished, “Won’t that be easier on us both?”

The obvious dismissal of your statement and implications of what he thought made your face feel hot. The embarrassment that had already been weighing down on you now became suffocating, and the utter arrogance of the presumption of your willingness to comply made you so upset it felt nauseating.

“What does ‘somewhat’ mean?” You tried to suppress the irritation in your voice.

He gave another heavy sigh. “Should you really be asking for specifics? It’s your best course of action regardless.”

You opened your mouth and inhaled as if to speak, holding your closed fists up to your chest, ready to spew every ounce of vitriol you’d been building up, and then, you fell silent as your eyes met.

His expression grew dark, eyes half-lidded and features blank — not contorted with anger nor curiosity, but merely waiting, watching, warning. Anticipating your defiance, prepared to react accordingly.

You looked down, hesitating.

Was it really worth it…? A few moments of lashing out, at what cost? ‘Consequences’ hurt, in one sense or another, they always did, no matter what form that word took.

You swallowed. He was right — one path before you was wiser.

You hung your head.

“…I’m sorry…”

Even with your gaze turned downward, you could see his eyes widen just a bit in your peripheral vision, not having expected such quick compliance — understandably so, based on your past incidents. But after a moment, his expression softened. He took another step, closing the gap between you, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to lift your head back up.

“Mm. I’m glad you understand. You know, you've matured quite a bit recently.”

You almost, almost found yourself feeling happy at the praise, but then pushed that feeling away. It was part of the way he did things, part of the process, so you'd slowly come to recognize, putting the pieces together over and over until you became aware of how he managed to bring you down to submission each time. You refused to be swayed by that. You were only giving it up and apologizing because it was the was the easier, less painful choice… so you reminded yourself. Now, at least, you'd be done with this, could move on and quietly begin plotting again.

But then, as you felt his hand move down to your shoulder, then to your waist, you remembered the ‘somewhat.’

Yes, of course it couldn’t be left at that, wouldn’t be so simple as forcing you into humility just once.

You knew that full well. These checks of obedience after an act of disobedience never came solitary, and the desire for that subservience to be affirmed was not easily satiated. It would only grow deeper, an increasing hunger for your subservience. Pushing your pride further and further down, carving into your personhood and whittling away anything deemed unfitting. It would only go further, debasing you in increasingly violating ways.

You felt a gnawing in your stomach. You hadn’t thought of that part, in the moment, but the realization now made your heartrate begin to accelerate once more.

His eyes drifted downward.

“…Ah, right. The clothes you’re wearing, we need to have a servant wash them for you. Just set them by the door for now.”

You looked down. You hadn’t even bothered to think about it until now, having been so preoccupied with other thoughts, but indeed, the oh-so-nice and expensive clothing you’d been so lovingly lavished with, was now fully coated in grime and dirt.

At the same time, your immediate instinct was to protest the idea, knowing the intent. He wasn’t going to get you a replacement — which he himself would need to do, seeing as all of your clothing was, no doubt deliberately, kept outside the bedroom itself, and it had been established early on that you were to rely on him or servants to fetch whatever he would have you wear that day for you. Was the command too, then, intentional?

The very moment you even asked yourself the question, though, came the immediate answer, making you feel foolish for even questioning it. Of course it was intentional, planned — what wasn’t, anymore, in your life? You remembered looking back, on the day you were brought here, thinking over the past with borderline horror at the realization of how intricately detailed and precise every detail had been in his effort — what you now were certain was a premeditated plan — to get your family to call off the years-long betrothal you’d already been in, and marry you off to him instead. That realization of it all had kept you rightfully afraid of him, knowing he was always one step ahead of whatever you might attempt.

The corners of your mouth pulled taut with embarrassment, and you pulled your hands in towards your chest again, elbows pressed firmly to your sides. “That’s…”

He caught a glimpse of your face, and in turn smiled, an amused sort of expression. “Come on now,” he took a step towards you, reaching out and grasping at your hands, pulling them out of their defensive position, “even now, you’re still so shy over this?”

“I— no, I’m not—” you cut off, teeth clacking together as you snapped your mouth shut when his hands released yours, instead moving around to the binding ties of your outfit, pulling the knot apart.

You held your hands up to the level of your shoulders, bent at the elbow, fingers curled as if preparing to reach forward, to grasp at his hands, to do something.

But you didn’t.

The exchange was itself a means of conversation, communicating something not fully articulable by word alone. Violating your comfort and dignity, baring you to him, those things themselves were an assertion, a statement. To interrupt would be to challenge that assertion, to deny him. And perhaps it was, in part, also a test, a question of whether or not you would dare to deny the unspoken statement.

As the silk strands came undone, the first layer gave way to the second, and pulling apart that knot caused the fabric bound by it to slide apart, exposing your bare skin to the cool air.

An unspoken reminder that your body was not your own, that any right to autonomy and privacy you might have beyond this room, no longer existed within it. Access to you was not a privilege granted by your permission, but an inherent right, provided by the very contract that legally bound you to him.

The casual, unhesitating manner with which you were stripped down only emphasized that that very reality itself was not something to be regarded as of any great significance, but a fact accepted as readily as any other. Exposing you, touching you, exercising that unconditional access to your body was given no greater thought than utilizing any of one’s possessions.

There was nothing he could ever say to you, nor adequate words to even exist, to fully encapsulate the degree to which you were owned — but with that gesture, you understood all the same.

And even though the humiliation of the reminder made your eyes burn, made you bite your lip, you lowered your hands to your side. An admission of defeat, surrender.

It did not go unnoticed. He smiled.

“Very good. You’re behaving much better today than I anticipated.”

Another moment of praise. He was genuinely pleased. You could see it and hear it through his face and voice.

Were it on any other matter, you might have felt proud to be praised in such a sweet, charming voice. If the praise were on something you actually wanted to achieve.

And then, his eyes trailed downward, running over your body, taking in each detail. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze settled on one particular spot.

“You really shouldn't lie to me,” he spoke in a quiet, low voice.

At first, you felt a momentary panic, not quite sure what he even meant, thinking you had somehow made a unintentional transgression. It wasn't until you looked down that you saw the scrape just below your collarbones from your, admittedly unsightly, vigorous resistance upon initial confrontation with the doushin the night prior, having essentially had to have been wrestled down to the concrete street. In hindsight, you were even surprised with yourself for putting up such a fight, but at the time it had just been the instinctive reflex, fueled by desperation.

It all felt distant now, as if further back in time than it was, the memory all blurring together. It was only a very small mark, and had now scabbed up as part of the natural healing process, but as his fingers brushed over the spot, you still tensed at the slight lingering sting.

“It doesn't really hurt,” you replied nonetheless. “It's fine…”

He only straightened back upright, closing his eyes momentarily.

“I suppose I shouldn't have expected common doushin to be able to follow instructions… just so you know, I did specifically say to ensure you weren't hurt in any way.” He turned his gaze downward, hand held to his chin as he added in a low mutter, “I'll be sure to only use private hands in the future, should I need something like this again.”

You shrugged, turning your eyes downward to the floor once more. Really, you wanted to not have to think about the incident any further, the mere memory stirring up embarrassment, which did not combine well with your already vulnerable state. “It's fine. It's not a big deal,” you grumbled. After a moment of hesitation, feeling another urge of spite, you added, “it wouldn't have happened if you didn't… do all that.”

He huffed in exasperation, but was quiet for the moment, seemingly composing his thoughts before replying.

“Don’t be disagreeable. We've discussed this. I care for you dearly, but that does not mean that you are exempt from expectations to behave.”

He always gave you that line — that a behavioral matter of yours had been previously ‘discussed,’ which merely meant he'd told you not to do something, or behave a certain way. That was the end-all-be-all — whatever you were told was set in stone the moment it left his mouth, and transgressing against the standard that was set was often treated as if you’d forgotten, as if it slipped your mind, the idea of intentional and deliberate disobedience being something unthinkable to such a degree that simply having done so by accident were more believable to him — and perhaps you ought be grateful for that.

You clamped your jaw shut, turning your head downward.

His gaze turned back to your body.

“…Your nerves are unsettled.” His hand slid it's way down your side, the feeling of touch lingering in a trail behind as his palm brushed over the curvature of your waist. “See, that's what causes these irrational episodes of yours. Stress, overexcitement. It just… builds naturally for you, over time.” After a moment, taking in your expression, he added, “it's nothing to feel bad about, dear. I don't mind helping you with it at all… I'm glad I can do so, really. I worry about how you'd manage without having me to help.”

You hesitated before giving a response. “What… what do you mean? I'm not… irrational…”

It was as if your words went in one ear and out the other, continuing on without responding to your objection. “But again, I failed to keep it in check this time, so this was ultimately my own fault… I'll have to make a note to be more thorough.”

His hand grasped at your waist, pulling you close. His other hand reached up, cupping your breast. He looked over towards your shared bed.

“Come on. Let's get you in bed.”

“Huh? But��”

His grip tightened. “Don't be difficult.”

Your stomach began to churn. You were still angry. The last thing you wanted was to go through what was essentially a humiliation ritual. There was something about the act itself — at least, between the two of you — that made you feel embarrassed and ashamed. The inherent vulnerability, for one, but moreover, because you knew the intent, you knew the way he viewed it in his mind, could practically feel the sentiment. An act of claiming, an exchange of power in which your loss of dignity became his gain of pride and control. Carving into your very personhood, marking you as something belonging to him.

Your opened your mouth, but whatever you intended to say was cut off by your small noise of surprise as you were pulled forward, in a manner that was somehow so gentle in touch, yet forceful enough to move your whole body towards his. His arm wrapped around your frame, the other positioning itself underneath your thighs before lifting you up and moving down to sit.

You fidgeted, tried to pull away — but his grip tightened, as much to secure you as it was a warning, telling you to hold still.

“It's for your sake. This will help you… you may not realize that yet, but you’ll thank me, I promise.”

His hands moved to your hips and turned you so that your back rested against his chest.

“As I was saying, you simply… build stress and neurosis, naturally. It's not your fault, really. You're just sensitive to changes, stressors... Every individual has at least some… defects in their nature.”

His hands retracted, and there was a brief rustling sound before they returned to your skin, now ungloved, flesh on flesh. The contact sent sparks through your nerves.

“That's why people pair with those they are compatible with. They fill each other's needs, compliment each other’s natures… I’m obligated to take those defects and resolve them.”

He gave you a smile — you couldn't see it, but could feel it as his lips pressed softly against your neck. Warm, full of sincerity and adoration.

“I wouldn’t do that if it weren’t out of care… and you in turn provide me with something that needs care and guidance. I enjoy having that.”

For all his attempts at soothing words and the gentleness of the touch, you knew in your heart that there was no doubt that that was part of the intent — to humble you, to tame you and make you docile, to make you submit. Forcing you to such a vulnerable state and inflicting reactions of pleasure was itself an act of exerting power and control.

It was, in a way, remarkable, that the human spirit could not only be broken by both brutal cruelty, but equally — or, perhaps even more effectively — eroded away with a gentle voice and touch, humiliation so deeply intertwined with affection that they became impossible to distinguish from each other, forming a unique sentiment that was both one and the other.

You were endearing to him, but that affection for you was like a venom that ran through your veins — an affection that diminished you, reduced you to some inhuman possession, a toy to be manipulated in any way he desired.

It made you feel sick. It made you feel angry, it tormented your psyche—

Your thoughts were turned to a haze as his fingers rolled your nipple between them. You inhaled a sharp gasp, back arching forward.

Processing your own reaction, embarrassment took place of the momentary pleasure, and your face felt hot. You reached an arm up instinctively to cover your breasts, pulling away from the touch.

“…We've had this conversation before, haven't we?” He reached up, grasping your jaw with a grip just firm enough to communicate a warning.

You swallowed and, albeit not without just a moment of hesitation, lowered your arm. You looked down, breasts now exposed fully. “I'm… sorry…”

He gave you a hum of approval, returning to the former fondling, fingers playing with the sensitive flesh. You bit your lip, breathing growing labored.

After a few minutes, his hands wandered downward, slowly, softly, down to your thighs, then back up over your hips, where they finally settled.

“Touch yourself.”

The command caught you off-guard. Your eyes widened. “…What?”

“Before I help you,” he murmured, “I want to see what you will do for me. That's only fair, don't you think?” He squeezed at your waist.

“Prove to me…” he leaned forward, breath hot against your ear, “that you know your place. Do as I say.”

You swallowed.

It was in your best interest to obey.

You reached down slowly, shivering as your fingers brushed over your clit. You pressed down, beginning to rub your outstretched fingers back and forth. With your other hand, you reached up, tweaking your nipple just enough to send pleasure through your nerves.

“There you go.” He pulled you a bit closer to him, so your bodies were firmly pressed together. He craned his neck, no doubt catching your abashed, embarrassed expression.

Not that he would give you any words of comfort on that matter, tell you not to feel embarrassed. He only smiled, grasping your hair and forcing your head to turn, pressing your mouth to his. It was only a short contact, parting with the softest of sounds.

His grip on your hip tightened, and you realized why he’d pulled back when he spoke.

“Don’t stop.”

You hadn’t realized you had, too focused on the slight surprise to being kissed. You took a shuddering breath, and resumed the motion. Your eyes closed, heightening your senses — the sensation of each touch and the shockwaves it sent through your core to every nerve in your body.

Your breathing quickly became labored. Even if you were inducing the sensation itself, it was good. You bit your lip as a soft, weak little sound came out of your throat, unable to refrain from vocalizing at the intensity of the feeling.

“Not just like that.” One of his hands reached down to your thigh, hand wrapping around the underside of it and pulling it to the side, spreading you open further. “Go on.”

“Mm…” You couldn’t summon any particular words, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations — the heat to your face and knot in your stomach at the shameless way your body was so exposed, at the feeling of being watched as if the act were a performance, and the haze of arousal that rapidly began to cloud your judgement, obscuring the feeling of discomfiture, drowning your inhibition.

Even without the pleasure compromising your hesitation, you didn’t want to think about the alternatives if you refused to obey — this was thus far, comparatively, far from the worst consequences you’d ever received for acting out.

You reached down further, pushing two of your fingers past the slick coating your flesh and inside your body, curling them into the spot that made you tense, made your muscles spasm, over and over, each movement sparking a rush that surged throughout your body.

Each breath was a deep gasp. Your toes curled, your muscles went taut and your insides clenched around your own fingers.

But something was missing.

It was pleasurable, but there just wasn’t enough to push you over the edge. The sensations were too weak.

Your body had been conditioned something more, and this was not comparable.

Sweat began to accumulate on your skin as you kept curling your fingers, desperately chasing a high. His arm moved from your hip to wrap around your waist, pressing another kiss to your neck.

You tried. Frustration began to build. Your eyes watered as you curled your fingers as hard as you could, pressed as far in as they would go, down to the knuckle.

It wasn’t deep enough.

It wasn't what you were used to. Your fingers were too short, just short of reaching that one perfect spot that made you lose yourself in pleasure, melting to a mewling mess.

You shuddered. You couldn’t reach a climax, no matter how hard you tried to focus. Even without orgasm, though, your exertion reached a peak you couldn’t carry on further from, and your fingers stopped moving as you went limp, trying to catch your breath, frustration and desperation nearly enough to make you cry. Your head fell back, eyes closed as you panted.

You could feel the corners of his mouth upturn against the flesh of your neck.

“…Is something wrong?”

Your jaw clenched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

That was the other goal of it, besides proving yourself to him — it was also to prove something to you. Something you didn’t want to admit out loud, something that made your chest swell with bitterness just to admit to yourself, much more so to do so aloud.

“I can’t… I can't do it.”

“Mm.” He pulled you further back against him. “Then, what do you need?”

The tingling sensation, the desperate need, the remnant frustration of lost pleasure, was too much to bear. You swallowed your pride, closing your eyes as you forced the words out.

“…I need you to do it…”

You were expecting him to say something in return, but for a moment, he was only quiet. He began to drum his fingers back and forth against your waist.

“Is that so?”

You nodded again, which seemed to be to his displeasure—

“Use your words.”

“Yes…” You swallowed.

You waited, but no touch came.

“Hm. How odd.” His voice was low and quiet, but unmistakably derisive. “You seemed to think you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself, running off like you did.”

Your eyes welled with tears. You shook your head back and forth, unable to bring yourself to speak.

“No?” His hand trailed downward until it ghosted over your sex, the lightest of touches, borderline torment. “Then, you can't do this for yourself?”

“…No…”

He moved his face even closer, speaking directly into your ear.

“Then what do you say? Tell me exactly what you need. Show me.”

You swallowed. The burning of humiliation in your chest was almost too much to bear. Had your insides not still been alight with the wavering, tight feeling of need, your pride would have outweighed your desire. But in that moment, it did not.

You spread your still-quivering legs wide apart.

“…Please touch me.”

“Mm. And what do you want from that? For how long?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I want to cum.”

Finally — finally — his fingers pressed down against your clit, enough pressure to send waves of pleasure up your spine.

“There, see…” He pressed another kiss to your face. “Aren't things so much easier when you just choose to be honest?”

You nodded. “Yes. I… I’m sorry…”

He gave a low hum of acknowledgement. “This stubbornness is just your nature.” His fingers slid back and forth, gracing the bundle of nerves with friction. “But that can be fixed.”

You bit your lip. “I… I’m not— ah—”

One motion of his hand was particularly firm, the sensation it sent through your nerves so intense it was almost painful. Your hands shot forward, grasping at his wrist.

It was only when the motion stopped that you realized you’d erred — it was a habit of reflexively grabbing at his hands when a sensation was too intense, trying to pry them off — something he very much did not like you doing.

Sure enough, he sighed, frustration blatantly evident. You jerked your hands away, but it was already too late to take back the first offense.

“…Now,” he started, “Can you refrain from doing that again, or do I need to bind them?”

“I…” you paused, realizing you genuinely needed to think it through. You weren’t certain if you could abstain.

You felt him shift back, leaning away from your body.

“Well, that’s enough of an answer itself.”

You heard the rustling of clothes, felt movement behind you, and you turned your head over your shoulder just in time to see as he pulled off first the top layer, then the undershirt over his head and off his body. You made a soft sound as he then pushed down on your back with a firm touch, forcing you to lean forward, grasping at your hands and pulling them behind your back — firmly, enough to be a clear message to not try to dissuade him, but your pride, weak as it was, still couldn't let it happen with no objection at all.

“Wait, wait, I can do it, I don't need—”

“This is for your sake. Hold still.”

“But I—”

“Be still.” He spoke firmly, but softened his voice as he continued, “It’s not your fault for having that reflex… but you have to train yourself against it. You want to be good, don't you?”

You shut your mouth, nodding as you sounded an answer. “Mm-hm…”

Cloth wrapped tightly around your wrists, using one sleeve to bind them together. Not enough of a bind that you couldn’t break out with some effort, but just enough to keep you from reflexively trying to interfere.

“Now where were we…”

You were pulled back once more, perhaps even closer. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

And his hand quickly moved back down, and the bliss of shockwaves of pleasures overcame you once more. You whimpered, biting your lip.

His fingers pressed more firmly, rubbing circles into the nub, and for a moment, your wrists jerked against the bind as the reflex kicked in. It was too much at once, but now, you were prevented from doing anything about it. As he began to rub in circular motions, your body shuddered, and an involuntary moan came out of your throat — a wanton, shameful sound, laced with pleasure and lust.

“There you go.” You could feel him speak, shuddering at the vibration of his chest against your back and the warm breath against your ear. His other hand rolled your nipple between a finger and thumb. “Give into it.”

Your body trembled against his touch, and jolted as his own fingers pressed inside of you. His were longer, and the touches firmer, and the result was a degree of pleasure you were simply incapable of replicating on your own.

As much as you hated it — hated to think it, hated to acknowledge it, hated to try and not acknowledge it as the reality prodded at the back of your mind — he made you feel better than anything you had ever experienced, better than anything you could ever make yourself feel.

You whimpered, toes and fingers curling. Your hips moved, a rolling motion to meet each pressing movement.

A singular motion, and singular sound, both of which you near-immediately caught yourself doing, having been too lost in the feeling to think clearly. You cut off your voice and went still, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t.” He didn’t stop moving his fingers as he spoke, instead pressing down with harsh force, essentially pulling you back closer to him with the hand partially inside you. “Holding yourself back like that is another form of dishonesty.”

You bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, but unable to form a response before he continued.

“And you wouldn’t want,” the fingers that had been gently tweaking at your breast pinched down hard, a momentary spark of pain and the lowering of his voice making you go tense, “to make this unpleasant because you couldn’t be good for me, would you?”

You shook your head back and forth with vigor. There were many punishments in your domestic repertoire that were unpleasant, and the thought of any of them made your heart skip a beat. “No, no, I don’t… want that…”

“Then you’re going to be honest, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise…”

“Mm.”

He kept rubbing his thumb against your clit, even in perfectly synched timing to each motion his fingers curled inward inside of you.

It was so pleasurable, so intense, it made you angry. Mad that he was capable of it, mad that his control over your body was greater than your own, and most of all, mad that he did it with such ease, effortless, that making you come undone entirely was something he mastered without ever being taught.

That pleasure began to build and build. You squirmed and whimpered, muscles throughout your body tensing and relaxing over and over. Your hips rolled into his hand. Each movement built the pressure in your body higher and higher, rapidly reaching a peak.

The edge that climax made you quiver, body and legs trembling.

“There it is…” his voice was so soft and gentle, soothing in a way it had no right to be.

The noise that came out of your mouth was nearly animal-like, a whimpering cry as you threw your head back, quivering and spasming. The waves of sensation pulsated throughout your body, reaching a peak and then beginning to ebb away.

You went limp, bodyweight falling back against his chest, heaving with heavy breaths. Your head felt as if it were spinning, and you stared forward in a dull stupor, body trembling with aftershock.

You twitched at the feeling of his fingers sliding out of you, with a wet squelching sound that made you shiver.

“Look at that…”

He spread his fingers apart, clear fluid forming a trail between them. You bit your lip, tilting your head downward in a futile attempt of avoidance of what you knew well came next — but that effort was quickly negated as he grabbed your jaw, turning your head back up and squeezing your face.

“Open.”

The force of the grip as he squeezed down more or less forced your jaw apart anyway. You didn't even get to take a breath before he pushed his fingers into your mouth, salty taste spreading over your tongue.

“Clean them off.”

Maybe it was a way of forcing you to acknowledge your own bodily reaction, even if you tried to deny it to yourself. Maybe it was much simpler than that — just another way to degrade you, or something simply arousing for him because it just was.

You complied nonetheless. Your tongue swirled around each finger, sucking and swallowing the taste of yourself. Even as he pulled his fingers back out, a string of saliva connected them to your tongue.

And then, after wiping his fingers off on the fabric around his thigh, he returned the arm to your waist, pulling you close, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“See… so much more at ease now, aren't you?”

That was one way to put it. You couldn't even bring words to your mind. Even processing what he said felt like a significant effort. Everything felt far away, your mind like a blank slate, numb and empty. Your body was even more exhausted, totally lax aside from involuntary twitches.

You made a soft sound as he turned your body to the side, just enough to look you face-to-face. Looking down at your watery eyes as they met his, the stupor in your expression, even as your brain began to clear, as if a machine turning back on after a few moments of darkness.

And he smiled. It was soft, full of endearment. And belittling. It was not made any better by the small chuckle he gave, patting the top of your head.

It burned in your chest, down into your stomach.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lower lip quivered, an admittedly petulant pout. Shame formed a knot in your stomach. Disappointment in yourself, ending up like this again after swearing so many times over that this one would be the last, the last time you'd come apart so easily, the last time you'd find yourself spent and susceptible to the touch that seemed as if it were designed for your body.

And he laughed. An amused chuckle, patting your head.

“Mm. I had a feeling that wouldn't be quite enough.”

He leaned in, firmly grasping at your arms as you tried to squirm, bringing his mouth so close to yours, forehead resting against yours.

“But, that does admittedly work out for my sake.”

You grunted in surprise as he hooked his arm under your legs again, this time only lifting you just enough to set you down onto the padding of your bed, gently pushing on your shoulders until you were flat on your back, arched over your hands bound behind you.

“A-ah, I…” You swallowed, grasping at the sheets to the best of your ability. It was nothing you weren't anticipating, but the vulnerability made you tense.

It didn't help that he paused any motion, eyes trailing over your body, before reaching down and running his hands over your flesh, one moving to grip at your waist, the other your opposite hip. You couldn’t reach to cover yourself, forced to lay bare and vulnerable. Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, but firm hands grabbed at the undersides, pushing them apart and positioning himself between them so you couldn’t close them again.

The former act was not enough. Putting you through the ordeal of being made to wait in jail like a child in time-out was not enough, exposing your body was not enough, toying with your body and forcing an acknowledgement of his own control was not enough.

Your lip trembled.

But anger still pervaded through your negative emotions. It compelled your courage, you felt defiance surging up. You had to look him in the eye, tell him exactly what you felt, tell him you knew what he was doing and push him off, then, maybe then you'd have the satisfaction of some sense of control.

You could do it. You had to.

“You… you're just doing the same thing as before!” Your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re trying to, to—”

“Again with this?” He tilted his head. “I really wish you wouldn’t assume such ill intent. This is how people love each other… you know that.”

You bit your lip. You almost, for just a second, fell for it, almost felt guilty. You shook your head forcefully, clearing your mind of the thought.

“No, I won't let you—”

And with that, there was a rapid shift in expression. His eyes narrowed in a piercing, foreboding look. You went silent.

Your shoulders stiffened. The words came out on impulse, resolve of defiance broken as quickly as it had formed. “I'm— I'm sorry—”

Dammit.

For once, the dark expression did not shift back to pleasant as soon as you apologized — an indicator of having gone too far. His hand slowly reached up, this time not in a loving caress or gentle-but-firm grip, but outright harsh grip on your jaw.

“You…”

He tilted his head forward to more directly look you in the eye. His voice was low and cold, making your heart race further.

“Do not ‘let’ anyone do anything.”

His fingertips pressed into your flesh, squeezing your face between them.

“I know you understand your place. Don’t behave as if you don’t.” Finally, his voice softened as he finished, “I can’t help you if you keep fighting me every step of the way. So… you’ll control yourself, won’t you?”

You swallowed, nodding your head, twitching as the motion made his fingernails dig into your cheeks.

“You know I don’t like being so harsh with you, don’t you?”

You nodded again.

“Good.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. Only for a short, chaste moment, but a slow, sensual motion nonetheless. You closed your eyes, tuning out the rustling clothes, heavily breathing with anticipation.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this. This whole ordeal has been stressful for me as well.”

You didn’t get time to ask what he meant — he rammed himself into you all at once, completely stuffing your body in one rough, forceful motion.

You cried out, back arching and body stiffening. You felt your insides clamp down, pulsating against the intrusion.

His hands tightened their grip on your waist, holding you still as the momentary sting ebbed away.

“There you go… calm down.”

You felt him slide out, then push back in, the latter movement sending sparks of sensation running up your spine, causing you to go tense all over again.

Your breathing became ragged, legs twitching and spasming at the sensation. You tried, without thinking, to snap them shut, but it only resulted in effectively squeezing his waist with you thighs.

The intensity of the sensation naturally induced a reflex of strain and exertion to your muscles, a need to channel the feeling through your body, causing your toes to curl, your thighs clamping down harder, quivering at the bare touch of flesh to flesh. You closed your eyes, but couldn't drown out the sound of skin making contact to yours, the sound itself increasingly accompanied by a wet squelching as skin met fluid with each passing second, leaking out of your body.

“You're so much more honest like this.” You could hear just the slightest strain in his voice, otherwise so very composed to perfection. “So meek… it's lovely. Once that resistance in you is fixed… you'll be perfect.”

You could see the corners of his mouth upturn into a look of amusement.

“You should see yourself.”

Your body stiffened, but all you could do was whimper. The words felt like a cold knife to the stomach — and you knew he knew that. Knew that that moment was you at your must vulnerable, the peak of awareness of your own helplessness, the moment you felt the most degraded, and yet, it still wasn't enough.

He leaned in close, speaking directly into your ear, so close you could feel the warmth as he spoke, never ceasing to move all the while.

“Whimpering and drooling like that,” he murmured. “You're trembling… and that expression on your face is so adorable. Like you can't even think straight.” He leaned back up, enough to look you in the eye — now welling with tears.

And again, he only smiled.

“How precious.”

His hands ran down your body, grabbed at your hips, and began to pull you, jerking your body back and forth to meet his own movements.

It was too much. Even with the knot of emotion in your stomach, you felt a hot, tingling pressure build in your body. Your legs quivered, the wanton little sounds from your throat higher and higher.

You didn't want that. It was the final part of this ritual that so demeaned you, one more confirmation of his control of you. You pressed your hands into the mat, trying to push yourself back — but it was only met with a harsh pull, forcing your body back until you practically slammed against his hips.

“Don't fight.”

It was the last thing you heard. You threw your head back as the sensation became overwhelming, back arching and eyes rolling back as the feeling reached a peak. You could only faintly register the high-pitched sound that sounded as if it couldn't be you, a voice you didn't recognize.

And then it began to ebb away. A hazy stupor filled the void as the pleasure dissipated, a feeling of exhaustion. Your weight went limp.

You made a soft sound as he grasped your jaw again, turning your head just enough to place another kiss to your lips.

“There you go. Look at you now… all that stress and in you, totally gone. You can see it in your eyes, even.”

He paused before adding,

“Well, gone for now. I'll have to start monitoring for it more closely.”

You shuddered at the sensation as he slid out of you, fluid spilling out onto the sheets.

You felt him reach behind you, untying your wrists — you brought your arms to the front of your body, but the forearms only laid useless, having fallen asleep from your weight.

He came to rest beside you, upper body slightly propped up on his elbow, head resting in his hand, looking down at you with adoration and endearment.

And you were so, so weak. So much weaker than you wished you were, body, mind and spirit alike. So weak that, in the rush of emotions that followed, you found yourself slowly crawling forward, burying your face against his chest with a pathetic little noise.

“Poor thing. Maybe that was a bit too much for you…”

His arm reached behind your back and pulled you close, and the comfort you felt seemed to melt your mind into nothingness.

“You should rest for a while,” he continued, “then we'll get you cleaned off. We have a few hours before you'll need to be ready.”

After a moment to process the words, you tilted your head up with the softest of inquisitive noises. The cold, creeping dread began to spread through your stomach once more.

He seemed to realize, then, that you didn’t understand.

“Ah, right, you wouldn't have known.” He reached out with the hand he wasn’t leaning on, brushing his fingers over your scalp. “While you were gone, I sent someone to arrange a house visit with a psychiatrist… a private one that works for families such as ours.”

His words certainly didn’t help soothe your nerves. Your mouth felt dry. Your voice came out weak, hesitant, part of you not wanting to ask, lest you learn an unpleasant answer.

“…Why?”

He tilted his head in just the slightest, loose strands of hair shifting and waving with the motion. “Well, keeping your needs in check does help with your condition, but I’ve realized it would do you good to have a secondary means to treat your hysteric tendencies as well.”

“My…” You swallowed. “My what?” The words slowly pieced together in your mind, hitting you with a sense of dread and confusion. You squirmed backwards, shifting just a bit away from him. “There's… nothing wrong with me…”

“Of course, of course, there’s nothing wrong, that’s…” He spoke in a reassuring sort of tone, as if to comfort you. “…A harsh choice of phrasing. You just need some help, is all.” After a moment of pause, he added, “don't worry, it's perfectly normal that you aren't self-aware of it. That's usually how these illnesses work.”

His arm reached out further, pulling you back towards him, pressing your bodies together before he continued.

“He’s just required to see you in-person for a little while before giving you anything. Regulations and all. We’re just going to get you something to make you a little more… docile.”

His arm wrapped around your body, and he pulled his head back just a bit to look you in the eye, smiling with endearment.

“Ah, I can tell by your face that you’re nervous. Don’t worry, I'll be there throughout the whole thing… I'll answer any questions, you just sit there quietly, alright?” He pulled you a bit closer, planting an affectionate, short kiss to the top of your head. “I know that sort of thing is a lot on your nerves.”

If your trembling could be felt, he didn’t say anything about it, only carrying on with his gently-spoken words.

“We won’t have to worry about you having these… irrational escapades anymore. And you’ll be so much happier, too.”

You felt his hand on your back, firmly in place — you were pressed so close together that there was no need to pull you any closer, but perhaps he wanted to be sure you couldn’t pull away.

“So… rest for now, alright?”

Mind and heart alike racing, in your stupor, you let the pause linger for too long. The hand on your back began to close in on itself, fingernails brushing against your skin just enough to send the faintest of pains up your spine.

You had no strength left in you to give anything other than the correct answer.

“Okay...”

He only gave you a hum of acknowledgement, and began to stroke your back up and down, a pattern that should have been comforting and soothing, yet was anything but. Exhaustion wore on your body, but even as you forced yourself to close your eyes, true rest was nowhere to be found.

#awful men portraying themselves as selfless/benevolent >>>>>#genshin smut #.ay

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