#should i do more songfics

[lubilli]

𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 | 𝗸. 𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗼𝗸𝘂

warnings: i wrote this with an intended fem! reader but im pretty sure it can be gn! reader since i didn't mention pronouns (if im not mistaken)!! kinda angsty??

synopsis: a songfic w the song "still with you" by jungkook

wc: 565

kyojuro rengoku x reader

if i don't have this, i might just fall apart

you've been in love with rengoku for as long as you can remember, but only recently did you two start dating.

he'd gone out on a mission, a rather long one it seems. you're worried for him. you know he's strong but the little voice inside your heart just won't stop panicking. you don't know what you'd do without him. if you don't have him, you might just fall apart.

we laugh together,

your mind flashes back to a memory earlier this week: rengoku and you laughing together.

you were asleep even at 12 p.m. that day, with no plans of waking up anytime soon.

rengoku entered the room, looking at your sleeping figure and then the time. he approached you and started tickling you in order to wake you up.

it worked, you woke up a laughing mess. in your attempt to fight away from the tickles, you fell off the bed. luckily, the bed wasn't that high and there was a soft rug underneath that eased your fall.

rengoku and you stayed silent for a bit before you broke into laughter, rengoku joining you.

this was a moment you didn't want to end.

we cry together,

you remember the time rengoku told you his entire life story. it was hard for him to speak about some parts of his life, like the death of his mother and the change in his father. it caused him to tear up, although he tried his best not to cry.

you, on the other hand, were a sobbing mess. you felt bad that you couldn't have been there for him and all you could do was just hug him. he'd gone through so much, he deserves a break and lots of love. and you were sure to give that to him.

these simple feelings were everything i had.

you remember every moment with rengoku being a precious one. all that laughter and all those tears, it all only strengthened your bond.

you've always been around him so being so far away from him for so long was unusual. you felt a little empty without him. honestly, you'd forgotten how you even lived without him by your side.

when will it be?

you spent the whole night pacing back and forth between your room. when will he come back? you couldn't wait to see him at the door and just throw yourself onto him like a koala.

if i see you again, i will look into your eyes,

finally, when morning had already come and the sun was shining bright, you heard a knock on your estate.

it's him!

you quickly fling open the door, seeing the love of your life on the other side. you saw the injuries he suffered, and you also saw the bright smile still plastered on his face even after going through so much.

and say, "i missed you."

you couldn't hold back the tears that welled up in your eyes. rengoku gave you a soft smile and just wiped away your tears.

you hugged him so hard and had no plans of letting go. you cried and cried into his chest, "i missed you! i missed you so much! you have no idea!" you hugged him tighter.

he rested his hand on your head, "i know, my love, i know." he smiled.

a/n: should i write more songfics? i have some ideas for the hashira + the trio! tell me if you'd wanna see that!

[catbolt]

— RESONANCE

[SOUNDTRACK] Spell #6 - Part Time || ▶︎

You resonate for the first time with Sylus-- in bed.

[TAGS] sylus x mc, smut (wholesome lovey dovey sex while resonating), vanilla, vulnerable!Sylus, mc taking the lead, cockwarming

[A/N] ngl despite all the spicy banner frenzy im still kinda reeling over the sylus myth i just finished getting thru so this is me coping

[WC] 3k

songfic 4/?

Thick carpets of rain cascade down outside, rhythmically pattering on the window as she snuggles into Sylus’ shoulder a little closer under the blankets. He chuckles, the low vibrations of his laugh reverberating through her. “What, are you getting scared on me now?” “No,” she protests, eyes flicking from the gory scenes playing out on the TV at the foot of the bed up to Sylus’ warm gaze as he looks down at her. 

“Funny, because I could have sworn you just shivered against me.” He playfully squeezes his thigh where her hand rests. 

“Did not,” She insists, moving to pinch his arm in retaliation. He lets out a grunt of surprise. “Plus, I was the one who suggested it. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I was scared.”

“Fine, touche,” Sylus relents with a chuckle. “But you totally shivered.” “Maybe I’m cold,” she mutters.

“Cold?” He pulls up the blankets higher over both of them. “Want me to get another blanket?” “It’s fine. I can think of another way you can warm me up.” She smirks in his direction, but finds he’s completely missed the innuendo, instead just innocently pulling her closer to him, wrapping his big arms around her as they snuggle closer. His fingers trace soothing lines over her back. “I’m warm. If you get closer to me, it should rub off on you,” he murmurs softly. 

She chuckles to herself at this odd moment of innocence from someone who’s usually so sharp and sardonic, wrapping her arm around him in turn. In this position, she’s barely even able to see the TV, only the flashing lights reflected on the ceiling and Sylus’ face. She watches him for a while as his eyes remain trained on the screen.

“That part was so gross,” he mutters, gesturing to the screen. “Why did they have to make it like–” as he meets her eyes, he realizes they’ve been on him the entire time as she rests nestled in his arms. He lets out a soft huff. “You aren’t even paying attention. I can’t be more interesting than the movie. They just killed off like five of the characters at once.” “Oh, I think you’re a lot more interesting,” she responds with a gentle laugh. 

“Am I?” He says, eyes flickering back to the movie for a moment once more before she has his full attention. He leans over her, his arms fully encircling her under the soft blankets. One of his hands rises to stroke her cheek gently and his voice falls to nothing more than a whisper. “Do you want me to pause the movie?” 

He’s barely audible over the sound of the storm outside, cracks of thunder starting to mingle with the rain that has become torrential and relentless in its assault against the window.

“We don’t have to pause it. It seems like you were enjoying it.” As she looks at him she’s caught in his arresting crimson gaze. The feeling is like being stuck in molasses, her entire body entirely surrounded, submerged completely in the aching warmth of it. 

“How about I just lower the volume?” he murmurs, his hand momentarily slipping out from under the covers to find the remote. “You have my full attention, sweetheart.” A small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as she takes in how off-kilter she suddenly looks, as if he’s seeing her for the first time again. “You look like a deer in headlights,” he murmurs, leaning down until his nose is brushing hers. “Why do you do that sometimes? When I look at you…”

She feels his soft breath against her lips and suddenly everything else– the movie, the rain– is white noise. “I don’t know,” she says softly. “I just feel overwhelmed a little when you look at me so intently.”

“Overwhelmed?” He pulls back just a hair. “In a bad way?”

“No,” she reassures him firmly, her hand snaking behind him and tangling in his hair, gently pulling him closer so their noses are once again touching. “Not in a bad way. I like how you look at me. Like I’m something precious.”

His lips curve into a gentle smile against hers as they kiss, his hands sliding around her, pulling her closer as the movie continues to play quietly in the background. The kiss is slow and languid, their limbs tangling under the covers. 

With a gentle yet firm touch, he lays her back against the pillows, his body hovering just barely over hers as he they kiss. “You are precious,” he mutters between kisses, his voice thick. 

He breaks the kiss to trails his lips across her jawline and down her neck, his hands slowly, tenderly exploring her pajama-clad form. In her mind the sounds of the movie have completely drowned into nothingness– the only thing she can hear is their shared breathing and the rustle of the sheets at Sylus’ gentle movements. It’s so damn romantic it almost takes her breath away, her body arching into each of his careful touches. 

“You know I mean that, right?” He looks down at her, his lips parted and cheeks softly flushed as his hands dip under the hem of her shirt to rest lightly against her ribcage, the gentle warmth of his palms soothing as he rubs his fingers across her torso. She nods. Though she generally prides herself on being a logical and careful person, she could never find it in her to doubt Sylus, not for even a moment. He doesn’t need to tell her how he feels. Every touch of his hand on her might as well be an utterance of reverence, a prayer, the tenderness and yearning somehow palpable each time his fingertips make contact.

Her hand steals one of his from where it massages her sides, and she intertwines her fingers with his, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm. “I know it.”

He captures her lips in another kiss, unbearably slow and kind, as his free hand still beneath her shirt caresses each inch of her stomach and ribs. Both of them are too preoccupied to notice as a soft golden light begins to leak from between their locked palms, pulsing softly as her Evol reacts with his for the first time.

What makes Sylus’ eyes finally flutter open is the sudden warmth he feels in the palm of his hand. He gazes to the side at their clasped hands by her head, eyes widening. “Baby,” he says, voice hoarse with feeling. “You’re… resonating with me.”

Her eyes are drawn to the shining light as well. She almost feels like there’s a pearl in her palm, something round where the light emanates, that seems to pulse like it’s living. “Oh, wow,” she says breathlessly, watching as the light slowly strengthens and steadies. 

“But I don’t know what it is,” she murmurs. “It’s different depending on what Evol I’m resonating with, and the needs of the specific situation… and I’ve never resonated in this kind of situation before, obviously…” 

He laughs softly at that, gently rotating their interlaced hands so he can peer between them. “What happens now?” “I don’t know. I mean, your Evol is energy manipulation, so this must be some form of an amplification of that.” She gazes up at him, heart racing in her chest. 

“I want to keep kissing you,” he murmurs, then squeezes her hand. 

He doesn’t need to say it twice. She leans upward, kissing him deeply, her mouth opening greedily in invitation for his tongue as their hands remain interlinked. The glow pulses like a heartbeat, sending pleasant warmth through them both. It’s a soft, nonviolent energy, manifesting not with the intent to attack or defend, but simply to be. To mingle and grow in their togetherness.

She finally comes up for air, her breaths deepening. “Hold on,” she murmurs, and gently she disentangles her fingers from his, their palms separating. The glow dissipates between them, making Sylus’ eyes flicker with a tinge of sadness, but when his hand returns to her body and slides down her side, a faint soft glow accompanies the movement. He blinks. “It’s still here,” he mumbles. 

She reaches out, her hands now seeking his body. She lays her palms flat on his chest and the gentle glow blooms again, barely visible through the fabric of his shirt, though the gentle heat that grows and grows slowly as she leaves them there is undeniable. He gasps at the contact, gazing down at himself. “I’m gonna take it off,” he says, hands coming over his head to roughly pull off his shirt. He grips her wrists, bringing her hands up to rest on his now-bare chest again, the light now uninhibited and visible to both of them.

“It’s beautiful,” he says. “You’re doing this… it’s incredible.”

“I’m only able to do it because of you,” she adds on quietly “It’s your Evol that I’m using to create… whatever this is.” 

Gradually they shed their clothes, movie long forgotten. He’s desperate to touch her, to see the gentle light dance across her skin, to revel in the magic she’s creating. His heart pounds with adrenaline and desire as she pulls her shirt off to reveal her body, his hands that come up to cup her breasts leaving searing coins of light across her skin where they touch. Her own hands seek and massage him, growing more and more insistent as her arousal builds. Something about the fact that everywhere she touches is marked with the evidence of their resonance sends something constricting around her heart, making it hard for her to swallow like her throat has closed. 

As she tugs down his sweats and boxers, the glow deepens, turning more orange and red as it flickers like candle light in each spot she puts her fingers. “Your Evol…” she murmurs with wonder. “It’s starting to resemble your Evol more.”

“Is that…bad?” He looks down at the glowing marks on his hips where she’s just held him. For a moment, a flare of panic rises in his chest. His Evol… violent and relentless, a force for killing. He wants nothing more than for it to never touch her, for her to never see it, for her to never know the pain he is capable of causing. Not his beautiful girl. He withdraws his hands from her body as fear overcomes him. “Does it hurt?” “No,” she reassures him, catching his hands before he can fully pull away. “Baby, don’t worry. I’ll tell you if it hurts, okay?” She pulls him closer, spreading her legs and hooking them behind his. 

The heat of her core is a stark contrast to the coolness of the sheets, and the light between them flares up at the contact, a warm glow enveloping them both. “It’s… it’s reacting to this?” “I guess so,” she laughs softly, still mesmerized at the lights that glow in the darkness on his skin like little fireflies where she’s touched. Slowly she grinds her hips against his, needing more contact. Her slick heat coats his length as she slowly rocks her hips up and down against it. His hands tentatively find her waist again, still scared of causing her pain, but when her face shows no sign of anything other than pleasure he grips a little firmer, helping her move up and down. She groans softly as the head pushes through her wet folds again and again, grazing her clit with each soft movement.

His breath comes in ragged gasps now, the light between them intense enough that they're practically glowing in the darkness. He guides himself between her legs with trembling hands. “Should I– do you…” He trails off, his usual silver-tongued eloquence deserting him.

“I want to,” she nods, her legs parting further. “And you’ll tell me if it starts hurting or feeling uncomfortable in any way?” His thumb draws soothing circles against her hip, leaving a glowing red mark, as the other gently hoists one of her legs over his shoulder.

“I’ll tell you,” she murmurs, eyes heady with desire. “But I have a feeling nothing’s going to hurt us.” She gently squeezes his thigh where she can reach, attempting to soothe his worries a little. 

He pushes into her slowly, the light between them pulsing with each inch. The resonance seems to hum with approval, light wrapping around them both like tendrils, similar to how Sylus’ Evol alone reaches and grabs like a red flurry. But this light is softer, tender, encircling them, as if binding them together. She gasps out in pleasure, the sensation and warmth and fullness almost too much to bear as he fills her completely.

He looks down at where they’re joined, seeing the faint light pulsing between them like a heartbeat. Sheathed completely in her, every sensation is somehow amplified by their resonance,  to the point where he swears he can feel her heartbeat through where they connect, his own heart falling easily in time.

“Move baby,” she pleads, her body taut with pleasure. “Please…”

Nodding, he begins to move his hips slowly, as if in fear of disturbing this delicate balance they’ve found. But the resonance seems to encourage him. He picks up his speed gradually, attuned deeply to every movement of her body and expression on her face, searching for signs of discomfort.

 “Oh god,” she moans softly, turning her head into the pillow. It always feels good like this with him, but this time is uniquely special. As she gazes up at him she watches as golden threads of light wrap across his chest and waist, following each curve of his body gently as he makes love to her. “You’re beautiful, Sy…”

His hips stutter at her hushed endearment, drawing a strangled gasp from him as he tries to reestablish his rhythm. Her slick walls constrict around him as he buries his head in her neck, groaning softly as he pumps in and out of her. The golden threads seem to tug them closer with each passing moment. He whispers softly into her ear, his lips finding her neck. “Does it feel good?” 

He’s embarrassed that he needs this reassurance right now, but his body is trembling with fear, scared that somehow his Evol will rear its head and make this much less pleasant. His touches on her sides are delicate, soft, making sure each mark that the resonance leaves on her skin is just a barely-there pinprick of light. 

“It feels amazing,” she says softly, gently running her hands down his back. “Don’t hold back. It’s okay.” 

He bites back his fear, peppering soft wet kisses against her neck and feeling the heat radiate back to him in the red glowing marks that blossom in the wake of his lips. He continues rocking into her, his pace slowly increasing, their panting breaths mingling together as they both near their respective orgasms. The resonance’s intensity grows warmer and deeper, penetrating both of them deep into their chests with the intensity of a knife but the softness of a warm blanket, the feeling enormous and extraordinary between them. “Do you feel that?” He pants between his thrusts, his hands gripping her sides softly. 

“I feel it,” she whispers between ragged moans. “It’s– It’s so–”

The words elude both of them now, and all she can do is cry out his name as her body hits her peak. He feels her inner walls spasming around him, triggering his own release as he comes crashing down over the edge right behind her, letting out a strangled cry as he fills her, ropes of his release coating her insides. Light ricochets out between where their bodies are pressed atop each other, the burst momentarily all either of them can see before it fades, disintegrating away into pinpricks of light like small stars that flicker and float in the still air. 

He wraps his arms around her possessively, holding her close as he tries to catch his breath. “That was… not normal,” he murmurs, a hint of wonder in his voice. The residual resonance tingles between them, crackling across their skin like tiny sparks.

“Far from it.” She laughs. The faint red and golden lights throughout the room twinkle softly before disappearing.

He presses a faint kiss to her forehead as he watches the lights around them fade.The end credits of the movie that was playing have long since rolled, the only light now being the sliver of moonlight cutting through the blinds behind them and the faint warm heat of the resonance that has imbued both of their skins with something akin to a bioluminescence, a soft, barely-there glow. He holds her close, as if afraid she’ll disappear. “That was special,” he says quietly, his voice raw as he buries his head in her hair, breathing in slowly, trying to gather himself. “I’ve never… experienced anything like that before.” 

“Me either,” she responds, leaning into his touch, moving so that she’s completely enveloped in him, the feeling of him still inside her only adding to the tenderness of it, the warmth as they both glow together. 

“It means something right? That you were able to resonate with me like that?” “It did,” she says, nodding. She takes one of his hands into hers. “It means we have a connection. And that I trust you.” She squeezes his hand. “That I’m yours.” “...Mine?” His voice is soft, any posturing or false confidence completely gone. “Yours. Fully.” She says firmly. “Though… I don’t think I needed the resonance to happen to know that.”

His grip tightens around her before he catches himself, not wanting to squeeze her too hard. He sighs, resting his chin on top of her head, gently stroking patterns across her back as the rain continues to pour down outside. The glow between them eventually fades into darkness, but the warmth takes its time, bathing them in it for many moments longer. By the time the after-effects of the resonance are completely gone, the both of them are asleep, curled still in each other’s arms. 

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

A story of a lifetime spent growing together. To what end?

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

TW: Bullying based on disability. Death of a parent. Angst. Grief.

Hi Guys.

This has sat in my drafts for months and inside my head for even longer. There is no part 2 planned. This is angsty with fluffy moments. Be warned.

I think we can all agree the most heart wrenching media moment of all time is Toy Story 2 and the below song.

If you don't agree. Move along this is not for you.

Reader calls Alexia, Alex throughout this fic. That's based on this video. Cause I have never heard someone refer to that and I thought it was cute. Alexia refers to R as 'Conejito' as a literal translation of bunny - I have since realised there's a more vulgar translation of this which I'm ignoring. Ha.

Spoiler Alert - This story deals with the death of a parent. Which I went back and forth on writing. Something about it still feels ick to me because these are real people. I may delete. Everything within is based on my own experience of parental loss. And it comes from no place of malace or weirdness.

This also deals with a severe speech impediment - which again, I do not suffer from myself but have experience with and hope I have done the struggle justice for anyone who may suffer.

My spanish is google translate because I am an ignorant English speaker. Apologies.

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

You found yourself where you usually could be found, to anyone who would take notice. Which wasn’t anyone to your knowledge except for a few observant teachers. In the art room, in the back corner, working relentlessly at an easel that your favourite teacher would set up for you.

You had transferred into the school part way through term, and for the first few days as with most schools you were the new and shiny thing. At 12 a lot of the kids in school had known each other since birth and you were new fresh blood to entertain them.

That didn’t last too long though when they realised you weren’t actually that interesting.

Shy and quiet as you always had been, you kept yourself to yourself. Its not that you didn’t want to make friends. You did. You so desperately did. But you just didn’t know how.

You had a stutter. That never helped. Kids could be cruel. And with the move from your hometown to Mollet for your mum's job it had only gotten worse. 

Words felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw felt tight and you struggled to get your words out. They stuck in your throat and refused to move from there. 

The teachers were kind. Your peers were not. Your speech therapist was helping. You spent more time than any 12 year old should thinking about sentence structure and breathing techniques.

You knew your parents worried about you. Waiting for you to get home from school every day with worried glances and eager smiles; “Did you make any friends today niña?” your dad would ask, pretending to be casual, flicking through some book or another. “Not today Papi.” You would reply, never wanting to lie to your family, before happily jumping the couch next to him and starting to scribble in your notebook.

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

Because there was always tomorrow. And on an unusually rainy day for Mollet tomorrow came.

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

The door to the art room quickly opened and slammed closed. The noise jolts you out of your peaceful reverie. A tall brunette girl smashed her back against the door and a hand quickly flicked out to turn the lights off to the room.

She clearly hadn’t noticed you huddled in the corner as she slid down the door onto her butt. Closing her eyes she let out a deep sigh and rested her forehead on her knees.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew who she was. Of course you did. She was Alexia Putellas.

The Alexia Putellas. Futbol superstar. Well… the 12 year old playground version of that. The coolest girl in school. She oozes confidence. Was always surrounded by a gaggle of your peers. Never without a ball at her feet or in her hands. But she hadn’t noticed you. Arm still raised working on the canvas in front of you, vision now impeded by the dark she had forced onto the room by turning the light off. You froze. Mouth slightly agape and hand starting to sweat. You watched as she rocked her forehead side to side on her knees. Your arm became tired in its upright position and the noise of you plopping the brush back into the water jar seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. Her neck snapped up and you met her wide, hazel eyes that bore into you. “Oh! Lo siento, I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” She was met with silence. Your stutter affected you terribly on a good day. Nevermind your safehaven suddenly being invaded by the coolest girl in school. Who you had idolised from afar since arriving in Mollet. Her head tilted curiously as she took you in. You felt her eyes drift to the canvas behind you. “Did you paint that?” She stands to her full height, still keeping her distance from you. “Why are you painting in the dark…?” She asks curiously. Head still tilted. Faced with a direct question you couldn’t put it off any longer. You couldn’t delay the inevitable. “Y..y…you, tu…tu….switched off….” Changing the words you intended to use halfway through was a coping mechanism that your therapist had tried to get you to work out of your system. She called it masking. You called it getting by. You raise your hand and point to the lightswitch that she had flicked when she entered the room. She looks at you harder now. You feel her eyes boring into you and wait for the inevitable laughter. The pity. Maybe even the cruelty that you are used to when people hear you speak. You cast your eyes down, waiting for the blow. But you just hear a flick of a switch, and the darkness behind your eyelids lifting. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have switched it off if I had known. I was just trying to get away. I kicked a football at Senorita Lopez by accident in the gym. They won’t let me play outside in the rain. Idiotas” You lift your eyes at her gentle, lilting tone as a smile teases your lips. She's moved closer to you now. “You didn’t answer. Did you paint this?” Her hand comes out to hover over the lines of your still-wet painting. Carefully. Again, you’ve been asked a direct question. “Si.” you reply, quietly. You don’t struggle so much with single words. “By yourself?” she asked, aghast, wonder taking over her features. You nod in reply. “This is so cool! Show me!” A grin overtakes your features as you nod more enthusiastically. Glasses slipping down your nose. Pulling out a fresh canvas for your new friend. “Lo siento, I haven’t told you my name. My Papa says it's rude not to introduce myself…” she stands tall and thrusts out her hand. Very formally. Very practised. “I am Alexia Putellas Segura.” You pause for a moment, looking at her outstretched hand. You wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. And shake her hand. “A…A…” you grow frustrated with yourself, the words getting stuck in your throat. You pull your hand away but Alexia keeps her grip firm and nods at you encouragingly. “Al…Alex… Alex.” you give up. Eyes downcast. Maybe you can tell your papa you nearly made a friend today. “Alex! Cool! I’ve never had that nickname! Most people call me Ale. But it can be our thing. I know you, you are y/n I remember Senora Perez making you stand at the front of class. Show me how to paint! Please? ”  Alexia was not a good painter. She quickly got bored and distracted by the newspaper on the desk intended for a paper mache project which she screwed up together, fashioned into a football and then spent the rest of the wet lunchtime kicking around the art room aiming for various targets that she would shout out to you. 

You dutifully cheered at every successful hit of the target. That night as you climbed onto the couch next to your papa and he asked; “Did you make any friends today niña?”. You couldn’t wait to reply; “Si! Alex.” You missed the way his newspaper dropped ever so slightly, and he caught the eye of your mami who was in the kitchen. “Ah, Si? Alex should come for dinner! We would love to welcome him!” He replied, his delight even obvious to you. “No tonta… Alex is a girl!” you let out. In that hilariously moody way only 12 year olds can. You became inseparable. Alexia was your best friend. Complete and total opposites. She would spend wet lunches in the art room with you. She would drag you to the playing fields after school and on break and you would be a goalie for her. Which was really just you standing complaining about where you found yourself and you dived away from balls as she cackled out a laugh. She came round for dinner with your family most nights. You spent every weekend at the Putellas household, travelling to her football games, strapped up next to Alba in the back of the Putellas family car, scribbling away in a notebook as you drew landscapes that you passed. On the way home you would sketch and sketch, only slightly hindered by the weight of your gangly best friend as she slept on your shoulder.  Your art would sit on both family fridges. Alex’s football boots would litter both entrance ways. Your mami would pick Alba up from the junior school if Eli got stuck at work. Joint family dinners were the norm.

Your relationship evolved through the years. Easily. Blissfully. You grew together. You became taller, however still paling in height compared to your best friend. You got braces and had them removed, You wore contacts most days now instead of your thick rimmed glasses. Though you still could usually be found in the art rooms.

Alexia filled out, she became less gangly and more strong, after years dedicated to football and training. 

Your speech improved. Your stammer only comes out rarely and you know your triggers. You worked hard every week with your speech therapist but you always credited Alexia. She gave you confidence. 

No one at school would roll their eyes or laugh at you when Alexia was by your side. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t finish your sentences. Nothing was more formidable within your school walls than if Alexia had found out someone had made fun of you, or not been patient with you. She got in trouble countless times defending your honor. Even if the teachers hated punishing her for it. 

You maybe realised on some level that you were as important to Alexia as she was to you the day that caused her to miss the U15 School Championship final. 

One of the more idiotic older basketball boys had caught you in the hallway. Trying to impress his gaggle of followers he had tripped you up as you were on your way scurrying into the art rooms to finish the sign you had made for Jaume to wave at the upcoming championship final. You had fallen flat on your face, quickly moving onto your back and pressing yourself against the wall. It had been a while due to Alexia's influence but you had dealt with bullies your entire life and you knew you had to just make yourself small and wait it out. “Oh s-s-s-s-s–s-s-oooorry it w-w-w-as an a-a-a-a-accident!!” the boy taunted you, leaning over you and exaggerating your stutter. 

His spittle hitting your face and making you wince. He brought himself to his full height, which was impressive for a 16 year old and turned to his friends. “Honestly, how is she even in this school, she is so estupida!” His guffaw was matched by his followers however their faces quickly dropped as they looked behind their ringleader. “What did you just say to her?” a cold, terse voice entered the conversation. You didn’t see his face drop but you could imagine it. 

He quickly turned and looked at Alexia standing in the doorway. Sunshine behind her darkening your view. As she stepped into the halfway you took in the thunderous look on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her as angry. 

You barely recognised her. “I-i-i sai…” This time he wasn’t impersonating you. 

He knew he was fucked. She moved quicker than you had ever seen her move on the football pitch. The tall boys friends quickly scattered as she grabbed him by his shoulders. He may have had at least two foot of height difference on her but that quickly diminished to nothing as she kneed him squarely between the legs. He doubled over in pain as she landed blow after blow to his stomach. “Alex… stop.” you instructed, gathering yourself to your feet. 

Your voice cut through her rage and she immediately stopped her punches. He scurried off as soon as he was able to, no serious damage done apart from to his ego… and maybe his balls. She turned to face you after shouting some choice expletives to his back, face immediately morphing into one of concern, eyebrows furrowed as her hands cupped your face. “¿Estás bien?” She asked, seriously. Hands moving to check you over. 

“Si, Si, estoy bien.” you replied. “You shouldn’t have done that Alex.” you regarded her with sceptical eyes. 

Her brow furrowed further, “What should I have done then? He’s un maton, he hurt you. I taught him a lesson. I would do it again. I would. I am not sorry.” she said firmly as she moved your head beneath her chin and wrapped her strong arms around you. 

You tried to pretend that the butterflies in your stomach erupting at her protectiveness were a normal reaction to a friend. 

Right? She repeated the same platitudes the next day, but this time with Jaumes hand on her shoulder as she sat in the headmaster's office. The boy she had humiliated so happened to be the son of one of the school governors. The headmaster told the footballer and her father that if Alexia apologised to the boy then she would go unpunished, otherwise, he would be forced to stop any of her extra-curricular activities, including the interschool championship final. Which, as headmaster, he really didn't want to do when his school had their first chance of winning in over a decade. She refused. 

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

Badly. The guilt ate away at you as you both watched from the sidelines as the 5th goal against your team went in. 

She grasped your knee, and still watched the game. “Stop feeling guilty. I am still not sorry. There are more important things than football conejita.” 

You took a breath and placed your hand on top of hers. You turned to look at her incredulously. “I mean, very few. Football is still in the top 2. Food is 3.” she continued, deadpan. Forcing a laugh out of you. You asked her once, years after first meeting, one sleepover when you were both lying side by side on the Putellas trampoline looking up at the stars. Why was she so patient with you? When no one else was? She looked at you, dumbfounded, genuinely confused by the question. “You have a voice y/n. You deserve to be heard.” she replied. Moving into her favourite position which was pulling all of your weight completely on top of her. Your head rested over her heart. You could hear the thump thump thump against your ear. You hoped she couldn’t feel the fluttering of yours.  

It was that simple to her. “Plus you looked like a rabbit in the headlights when I barged in, you were too cute. Mi pequeña coneja”.

Your Alex. 

You transitioned from best friends into girlfriends at 16 with no fanfare. A shy kiss after a win at Alexia's latest championship sealed it. Her grin splitting her face. Yours matching when you realised your dreams could become a reality. Hands held tentatively in the backseat of Jaumes car as he smiled at the scene through his rear view mirror.  Days later, as you both stood in front of your mami and papi shyly holding hands you realised, squeezing the trembling hand in yours, that it was the first time you had seen Alex nervous. In all of your years of friendship.

Alexia still had her weirdly formal streak, the same as the day you met her, so you let her do what she felt she needed to.

“Senor y Senora y/l/n… “ she started, taking a breath. “Mi and y/f/n…”

Your parents caught your eye, dumbfounded. She never used their titles. They rarely heard her use your name. You were always conejito.

“Alexia… estimada…” your mami started, with kind eyes. You could tell she knew what was coming. You shook your head at her slightly, Alexia too caught up in her own moment to notice. Your mami let her speak.

“Mi and y/f/n…”

Your papi, however, was not as emotionally in tune as your mami, “Monito, what is going on? Why are you being muy loca? Have you got mi mija pregnant? I know you're an overachiever bu…” “Papi!” you screeched out, interrupting him. 

Alex stood mouth agape, face flushed as she looked to you for help. “Papi, Mami, Alex is tr…try…tryi… telling you that we’re together together.” you let out, raising your joined hands. Your mami let out a laugh behind her hands, your papi however stood and exclaimed, “Was that some sort of secret!? Dios Mio of course you are! We thought you had been for years!  You made me change your bedtime story from princesses to football-playing princesses on the day you met!  Why do you think your Mami makes you keep your door open when this one stays, Mija?” 

Now it's your turn to blush as your mouth drops open. As he passes Alexia he gently smacks her upside the head, ruffling her long brunette hair. “Now come on cabeza de bola, me and the guys from work are starting a 5 a side. I need your help on penalties…” You huff out a laugh as your girlfriend is dragged away, confused look stuck on her face - eyebrows adorably drawn and mouth furrowed and clinging to your hand until distance forces her to let go. 

Your mami settles her arm across your shoulders. “I’m happy for you Mija” she mutters, in her gentle tone as you fall into her embrace. “You’re going to marry that girl one day.” Even after everything that would happen and the hell you would feel, you thank God for the unseasonal rain in Barcelona that day in junior school.

And when she was sadI was there to dry her tearsAnd when she was happy, so was IWhen she loved me It wasn’t long after you made your relationship official that you had your first real test.

You knew something was wrong with your girlfriend probably before she did. You knew her like the back of your hand. Though it finally came to a head one early evening at the Putellas household.

You had both picked Alba up from school, and you had set out to making dinner in the Putellas kitchen whilst Alexia's parents were both stuck at work.

It was standard practice, occurring at least once a week. You moved through the kitchen with ease. The ease is what alerted you.

Usually, on nights like these, Alba would huff off to her room like any other pubescent teenager, head stuck in her phone and earphones firmly in place. Alexia however, would usually be found attached to your back, arms wrapped around you as you cooked, or sat at the breakfast bar, swiping chopped veggies til you hit her with a spoon to make her stop, rolling your eyes as she insisted she was a growing girl and she needed the extra.

No, this was too easy, you thought, as you moved around, you missed your big inconvenience in the kitchen and you made sure your pasta sauce was bubbling nicely and went to search for her. 

You find her in the living room, her large frame draped over the sofa, eyes mindlessly watching the TV. But you can tell she isn’t watching whatever is on. Ale isn’t a big TV-watcher. She's very rarely sitting still for long enough to concentrate. The exception being if you're in her lap, where she entertains herself by playing with your hair or tracing the lines on your palm. “Hey, amor, estás bien?” your voice brings her out of her thoughts, “Ey? Ah sí conejito, lo siento, is dinner ready?” she asks, making to stand, but being stopped by your hand on her shoulder.  “Ay, when did I become the hired help, ey?” you ask, trying to tease a smile out of your girlfriend. “Dinner will be ready soon. Tell me what's on your mind.” The thing about Alex is she’s an open book. People may think she is stern and serious but she wears her heart on her sleeve. You can always see her thoughts plainly on her face, so you know something troubling her. She knows she can’t hide it from you, so she doesn’t try. “I’ve been offered a professional contract.” She states, plainley. Your heart lifts for her. Your whole life Alexia has bled football. For many years she believed, and you did too though you would never admit it, that it wouldn't be possible to make a career from the sport. You don’t think you have ever seen Alexia as sad as when she aged out of the Barcelona FC teams. She was devastated. It was a harsh reminder that Spain wasn't the USA. The opportunities are not always available. But the thing you loved most about Alexia was her dogged determinedness. She would train in the morning, in the afternoon, between classes. You are overjoyed that all of that hard work has paid off. Something wasn’t adding up with her reaction, however. “Alex, that's amazing news!” you exclaimed, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “Why are you not more excited? Is it a bad deal?” “No, amor, it is a fair deal.” she sighs. You just look into her eyes, waiting for her to tell you what she wants to share. She takes a deep breath. “It’s Levante, I would have to move to Valencia.” Ah, you see. Your heart breaks at the sad frown painted on the usually stern face of your girlfriend. Your hand moves up to trace her eyebrow, forcing them to unfrown and moving down to cup her cheek. She leans heavily into the warmth of your hand, and damp eyes open, fixing to yours. “Oh Alex, it’s okay” you whisper. The truth is you had always known that with the career your girlfriend was destined to follow, that you would have to spend time away from each other. You already did. Alexia has often been away throughout your friendship and now your relationship for national camps. 

You had a very mature relationship for 17 year olds. Having been woven into each other's lives for so many years. You were part of each other's DNA. You knew how to manage the time without your girlfriend. You were both grade A communicators. You accepted that this would be different, and no doubt unimaginably hard for the footballer, her family was her life. But so was football. And you know you needed to encourage her to take this step. “It’s not okay!” she stated, firmly, sitting up straight on the couch. “It’s not fair! Finally I get what I have dreamed of but it comes at the expense of everything I love. Mi familia, Barcelona, you! Why can’t I have both? I don’t know what to do” “You go to Levante, Alexia.” you say, seriously, “This is a huge opportunity for you.” She looks at you incredulously and you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong. “Oh, so it is that easy for you? Si? You just let me go like it doesn’t even bother you!” You aren’t used to Alexia's stern frown being sent your way, usually it's aimed at someone in defence of you. Or at a goalkeeper.  You, however, know the brunette is feeling vulnerable, she has waves of insecurity at times, she puts so much pressure on herself it's inevitable, but you are always there to assure her of her worth, and your love. “You know that's not true, amor.” you say, tenderly, hand reaching into her brunette locks to sooth her. “I agree, it’s not fair that Barca don’t have a women's team but I have always known your talent would take you away from me, “ she opens her mouth to interject, “but I love you. And I know you love me. We are tethered. Forever. When, not if, you go to Valencia, we will make it work. You know we will amor, you can have both” “But I will miss you.” she whimpers, pathetically. “I will miss you every second. But it will get better, it’ll pass Alex.” Her head finds your neck as she settles in there. Her larger frame is quite comically draped over you. “Do you promise?” she lets out, weakly. And you don’t let a moment pass, “I promise.” and seal your promise with a kiss to the crown of her head. She moves her chin up and faces you, “Beso, por favour” she asks, who are you to refuse? You kiss softly, you don’t know how many minutes you are tasting her sweet lips pass before you are interrupted by a sulky 14 year old.  “Ewwww!”

Alba appeared, making the two of you split apart, her disgust at the scene she's found making you laugh as Alexia peels herself from you, rolling her eyes.

“I’m gonna tell Mami that you two were making out instead of feeding m…ahh!” Albas accusations getting lost as Alexia chases her around the living room, ready to fight in a way only sisters can.

A strange smelling odour fills your nose. Oh… Oh no. You rush into the kitchen to find your dinner smoking on the hob.

“Oi, Putellas diablos!” You stick your head into the living room where you find Alexia sat on her younger sister whilst she tries to battle off the huge weight she finds on herself. They both pause and look at you guiltily. “C’mon, shoes on, we’re going out to eat, on me, we’re celebrating!”

Both of them unite in cheers as they childishly jump up and run to the front door in glee, shoving each other out of the way to try to get their shoes on first as you watch, affectionately shaking your head.

It will be months later, after a summer filled with memories made with your girlfriend, days at the beach, trips to the market, lazy days at home and soft moments made in the streets of Barna, that you would find yourself alone in bed.

That was weird.

You had spent the day packing with Alexia, the sadness of moving away had started to be replaced with excitement from the tall girl. Her dreams were coming true, okay, it may not be perfect, she finally understands, but it's a step in the right direction.

She can’t believe that she's going to get paid to play football.

Paid. The evening after a long day of packing was spent having a family meal at the Putellas household. Your family is also in attendance. It was a loud and joyous affair and it helped to keep the sadness out of your girlfriend's eyes. After a long evening of sombremesa Alexia had insisted on coming back with you to your parents to your house.

She didn’t want to spend her last evening in Barcelona in her empty bedroom, instead finding solace in yours. You had both talked into the early hours, in the arms of each other, trading soft touches and exchanging breaths until sleep took you. You pretended for her sake that you couldn’t hear her rattling breaths or feel the dampness of her cheeks on your fingers.

Now, however, you were alone, and unsure at what woke you up. Until a tapping comes to your attention. You sit up in bed and hear it again. What is that? You get out of bed and go towards your window, yep, there it is again, coming from outside. You throw open the curtains and peer out into the moonlit garden.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you can’t take that moment because you suddenly are hit squarely in the face by a pebble. 

“Ouch.. what the he…” you stand suddenly and bang your head on the window frame “Ow, Fuck!” “Ay Dios Mío, lo siento amor! I didn’t see you had opened the window!” Alexia's panicked voice reached your ears, why was she in the garden? What the hell was going on? “Are you okay conejito?” You take a moment to steady yourself and your mind into your new and abrupt situation. “Conejito?” “Yes, Alex, I am fine. What are you doing out there?” You’re met with silence. “Al?” The tall brunette is scuffing her foot against the pebbles of the garden that she had previously been launching at the window. “I don’t want to say. I feel stupid now.” You arch your eyebrow in her direction. You don't think that she can even see it but she knows what's aimed in her direction. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. And also sad. And muddled. And I will miss you so much so I was just imagining how good it will feel when you visit, or I visit. Or when I score a goal and you’re watching. Which I know you’ve seen but now it's my job.” she rambles, pausing momentarily to take a breath. 

“Anyway, I thought about how cool it would be if I came to visit and woke you up by throwing stones at your window like in a film! You’d love that! Then I just couldn’t wait to do it. So here’s me, doing it. I’m being romantic.” She throws a crooked grin up at the window and your heart literally melts. “I..I….” and you promptly burst into tears. “Oh no mi amor no! Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to throw a pebble at your face! I’m sorry!” she gestures towards you with her hands frantically. “It’s not that Alex, you’re just such an idiot. And I love you so much. I am going to miss you so much. Get up here.” needing her arms wrapped around you. She nods vigorously and makes to climb the trellis that goes to your window. “No you idiot! Use the door! You have a key!” “Oh yeah.” you hear her mutter to herself before she scurried back inside. As you’re settled back into her warm arms, her huge hands palming through your hair. “That was very romantic Alex.” you mumble and you practically hear her purr with pride at herself. “Next time though bebe, use your key, I would much rather you be here in bed with me.” “Noted.” she mumbles into your skin, wiping away the tears that you can’t stop from rolling down your cheeks. Alexia got settled into her professional team quickly and efficiently, she was one of the youngest but easily the most talented on the pitch. You would travel up with Jaume religiously at the weekends wherever you could, your time in the week spent busy with the Art College you had enrolled in. Alba sometimes tagging along when you bribed her with snacks.

As promised you were there when she scored her first professional goal, her beaming smile sent directly to you and Jaume in the stands, stood cheering for her. You witnessed her wide eyes, after the game, as you stood waiting for your celebratory hug and maybe a cheeky kiss, when she was stopped by a little hand. “Hola.” the small girl had to crane her neck to look up at your girlfriend. She was shaking with excitement. “Hola?” she replied, confused. “Can I have your autograph por favour?” she asked, sweetly. Alexia just stood there, like a sim. 

You stepped forward with your notepad and drawing pencil that you carry everywhere, you had more drawings of inside a football stadium than anyone would need. You ripped out a page and handed Ale the pencil. “Of…of course?” She scribbled down her autograph for the young girl who beamed and ran away holding it above her head to show her mami who picked her up in glee. Alexia's wide eyes stared at you. “Did you see that?” “I saw that bebe, I handed you the pencil. I also saw your goal, superstar!” You couldn’t control your grin, which was mirrored by your girlfriend. “You played so well! Alex!” You're interrupted as she drags you over the fencing and pulls you into a bear hug. Her face nuzzled into your neck, her body vibrating with excitement. “I scored for you conejito!” she says “Well, hija, I won’t be offended, I have only been to every game you’ve played for 10 years” Jaume appears above you both still in the stands, smiling teasing his lips. “And you papa!” she releases you and pulls her papa into a hug. Dragging you back in after a moment before declaring that her first goal means that she deserves pizza and ice cream courtesy of her papa. 

Through the summer and the fall We had each other, that was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be

You finished your college course and your love for art had never died. You made the trip to Valencia wherever possible to see Alex and she came back to Barna at least once a month to see her family and you on an off weekend. You would spend those weekends living at Alexias house, soaking up every moment together as much as possible. 

She would bring her clothes home for Eli to wash as she was useless at anything practical. You would make sure that you would always snag a sweater of hers before it was washed and keep hold of it, soaking in her scent before you could swap it out again. Alexia, used to pretend she hated it, they would always be returned with paint stains around the cuffs which would harden and she said irritated her skin.  You tried to be more careful but you didn’t stop stealing them.

You saw the same amount of her family as before she moved away, your lives had been so intrinsically linked that you had become an honorary Putellas, and she was a part of your family. You hung around with Alba and you helped Eli with her shopping when her car broke down. You were family.

Weirdly enough, it was you that met Alexia's future best friend first. After college, you started to make money from your art by being a live artist at weddings.

You knew your parents were worried about what you would do with your art. Teaching was the obvious choice but with your speech issues, it was your idea of hell.

This was perfect.

It was a niche business but you got paid well and you loved it. You got to go to weddings for a job. You got to capture people's joy on the most important day of their lives.  You would sit in the corner with an easel set up, sketching and painting guests, the dance floor, the top table. And you could immediately give your paintings to the couple and their guests, the validation was enormous, you were good at what you did. Discreet and professional.

You soon get a client list for miles and the money starts to pour in.

It was at one of these weddings that you met Mapi. She caught your eye during the speeches and you started to draw her outline. She was clearly very very gay at a very straight wedding. But it wasn’t just that that caught your eye, her tattoos intrigued you. And you loved sketching them and adding hints of colour here and there.

She looked up at you and caught you sketching, as guests often would, you were able to not let it distract you, ever the professional you offered a gentle smile.

“You like football?” a heavily accented voice reached your ears as you were adding the finishing touches to the dancefloor scene that was set out before you.

“Que?” It wasn’t often that guests interacted with you, but sometimes it happened.

“Your bag, FC Barcelona? That's not usual for a pretty girl like you, to like football.”

“Ah, Si.” You reply, your eyes not moving from your painting. “It’s my girlfriends.” you reply, emphasising your relationship status, not wanting a moment of confusion.

“Ah, boo, you have ruined my fun.” She replies, “Maria Leon '' She introduces herself, hand out for you to shake, you don’t take her hand, handing your paint-y hands up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “I see, I see. FC Barcelona though. Good team. No women's team though.”

“No, but there will be, and my girlfriend will be their top scorer when it happens”  you reply confidently. “You seem so sure?” “I am.” She lets out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that, then I will be their best defender” she offers a huge smile. Mapis smile is magic and makes you smile.

You and Mapi become firm friends. She talks. And talks and talks and talks. You don’t know how she has so much to say. But she is fun and she is kind. Your stutter makes an appearance as it sometimes does but it is perfectly offset by her inability to stop yapping. You don’t feel a pressure to fill the silence because you know she will. 

Years later, at a supercup final, you will both laugh about your first conversation. About how both of your statements came true. Turns out, people paid well for authentic paintings of their favourite moments. And as a young adult you found yourself with enough money to get yourself a small apartment in Mollet. You loved it. And you loved the independence it brought you. You think that was the happiest time of your life. You would spend days on your sun drenched terracotta tiled balcony. Painting watercolour and sketching the scenes both in your mind and your view over the square that your apartment was on. You had quite the online following and would get some commissions for your art which brought you a sense of purpose and joy. The absolute best time was when Alexia had a free weekend, or a break, she would stay with you and you would live in domestic bliss. It was an unspoken agreement. No question that she would make her base for her time back at your apartment. Even when she wasn’t there you wouldn’t sleep on her side of the bed. More of her clothes made their way into your closet. More of her sweaters would get paint marks on them. You would cook together, sing together, dance together in your small kitchenette. Feeling happy and in love as only young people can. Nothing gets between you. Training had been kind to your girlfriend, and you struggled to keep your eyes off her as she would do basic tasks. She was thick. For want of a better word. Her gangly limbs had become pure muscle, her back would ripple when putting on a t-shirt, you would find yourself staring at her forearms as she would cut vegetables. She knew what she did to you and she loved it. Often sending a wink your was and sending you into more of a stuttering mess then usual, heat climbing to your face. You felt your heart grow as you would go shopping for groceries together. Take strolls in the square, you sitting on a bench and sketching as she inevitably got herself involved in a football game with the local kids. Her favourite time of day would be Friday nights. Often, if she was lucky, she would be scheduled an early kick off on fridays. You would travel back from the game together with her papi. You took the backseat as you knew you would monopolise her time back all weekend. Giving her a chance to catch up with her family. You would get home, she would shower whilst you made a light dinner, both taking it in on the balcony before moving inside and settling on the couch. She would put on some illegally screened recordings of the game she had played in. But she would mute it as she pulled you into her chest. You would have a sketchbook in hand and continue working on your art, or a piece from a wedding that needed finishing up. You always told her the commentary wouldn’t distract you. But she insisted. Once finally saying, “I like the sound of your pencil, it soothes me, and sometimes you trace the sketch on my leg with your free hand. It gives me goosebumps. I like it.” you never asked again. You argued, of course, like any couple did. But it never lasted long. Alex would get angry when she would find paint in the sink, and you would struggle to share your space at first. But you never went to bed in a fight. Even if you tried to be stubborn your body would fail you and you would gravitate towards her in the moments before sleep, muttering your apologies or forgiveness. In those early days of young adulthood it would be the only time in your relationship where you had more money than Alex. 

Football did not pay well. It did not pay a living wage. 

You didn’t care. 

You felt privileged every time you scanned your card for the groceries, or paid for dinner on a date. You knew she hated it though. “One day conejito, I will give you everything life can offer, I promise” she would whisper into your skin whilst she tried to make it up to you in other ways. You would always tell her you had everything you needed right there with you. It was perfect. Life was perfect. You had friends, a stable job, the love of your life. Yes, distance was hard, yes, each time she left you would cry and hold her tighter to you, but you knew it wasn’t forever, and you never felt that distance in your relationship. You grew together, like a plant, your love was carefully cultivated in experiences and shared memories.

And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me

You had never felt sadness like it. It was all encompassing. You couldn’t get away from it. You were sad for your chosen family. You were sad for your own family. You were sad for yourself. But you were devastated for your girlfriend. You didn’t know what to do with so much sadness. You couldn’t hold it in, but you couldn’t let it out. You needed to be strong for your girlfriend. Who was walking around as a shell of the person that you knew her to be. Well, that was when she was walking, she would throw herself into her childhood bedroom and stay there silently for hours. You would be okay with it if she was sleeping, but she just stared at the wall aimlessly. Her Papa was her inspiration. The reason she got into football. She would look up to him even as she towered over him. And it was so so cruel that he had been taken away from her in such a manner. A week after Jamues passing you found yourself next to Alexia at his funeral. It was a beautiful affair, a celebration of the life of a man who loved hard and was loved hard. The morning had been difficult, you had ironed Alexia's dress and set it out for her. She took your instruction like a small child, you brushed her hair straight and pulled it out from her face. You struggled to speak. Such immense grief you felt the words became garbled in your mouth, rendering you mute. But you didn’t want any pressure on Alexia. 

You knew when your stutter made an appearance she would drop everything, concentrate on doing your exercises with you, hand automatically cupping your jaw and massaging the soft area beneath your ear because she knew that relaxed your facial muscles. So you both moved around silently. That morning. As you guided her around what needed to be done. As you packed her bag with tissues you hoped that you needed to use them. You hadn’t seen her cry since she rushed home from Valencia to the news. So no, you didn’t know what to do with your grief. You loved him too. He was the first person you had loved and lost. You had your own special relationship built from long car journeys and shared snacks. He would put your art on his fridge like you were one of his own. He was kind and he was half of the person who you loved to your core. God. If you felt like this. You don’t know how Alexia was still breathing. You had been spending all week as the Putellas household. Not leaving Alex's side. But also not leaving Alba, who would lean heavily into you of an evening, seemingly crying all of the tears that her sister couldn’t. It felt healthy though, through the tears you could share memories and make her laugh. You would go to bed with Alex and the silence would continue. When you were sure she was asleep you would sneak out of bed and grab your sketch pad, settle into the corner of the room and just let it out. Her dad told you once at a game how his father worked as a coal miner. He said it proudly, he adored hard work. That's where Alexia got her devotion from. It was a passing moment, a memory that you didn't even know you had. But it stuck with you as you went into the Putellas garden and took a lump of coal from the barbeque and settled yourself into the dewey grass. Hand not stopping over your sketchpad and tears rolling down your cheeks.

The night after the funeral you stayed at your own parents house. You couldn’t handle the loneliness of your own apartment. You didn’t want to intrude at the Putellas residence, and you hoped that maybe some time with her family would be what Alexia needed to open up. You were right, but not in the way you imagined. A soft clink, clink, clink, woke you up, This time you were not frightened. You had heard this noise before. You immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your window, showing it open and shoving your head out. “Alex! What are you doing here, why didn’t you use your key?” The brunette looked up at you with sad eyes, you saw she was in her pyjamas, eyes sideways showing no car, she had walked here. “I forgot it.” she let out, morosely. “Oh mi amor, no p..p..problem, hold on I will come down and let you in.” before you had a chance to bring your body back into the house you heard her again, “You left me.” your heart cracked into two. You didn’t reply but instead hurried downstairs into the moonlit garden. She stood there, with all her muscle and height, looking everything like a toddler who was lost in a supermarket. You took her hand in yours and used your other to cup her cheek. “Oh, mi amor I didn’t leave you, I thought you wanted some space.” Maybe you expected her to agree, maybe you expected her to disagree and shout at you for getting it so wrong. You didnt realise that you were to her, like an umbrella in the rain, protecting her from the downpour. With you gone she drowned in the grief. You didn’t expect her lip to tremble and her to burst into tears. “I want my papa.”  Those 4 words broke your heart as you huddled her into your arms, rocking lightly to bring her confort. There was nothing you could say, you just brought her into your bed and held her as she cried, painting her skin with whispers of your love “I know, bebe, I know, I promise it’ll pass, I promise, and I will be here. The pain will go. It will pass Alex and I will be here.” It became a mantra that you whispered into her skin.

As she calmed down you took a moment to think. As you got out of bed and she groaned in annoyance you hushed her with your lips to her skin. “Un momento, mi amor, I have something for you.”

You presented it nervously, unsure of the reaction you would get.

It was a framed picture that you had created. Not like your usual artwork as it was made from coal. Coal from the Putellas barbecue to be exact. It was a sketch of a man in the stands of a football stadium, somehow, eyes beaming with pride, laugh lines visible on his face. A footballer with a long ponytail and similar features jumping into his arms.

It was a scene you had witnessed hundreds of times throughout the years. You didn’t need to see it again to create it. The coal added a haunting and beautiful dimension to it. When you explained your reasoning Alexia looked deeply into your eyes. Holding onto the frame with white knuckles like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” 

And when Alexia scored and helped her team to win the U19 Championship for her country not 3 weeks later. Celebrating with eyes to the sky, fingers pointed. You knew that, eventually, she would be okay. 

So the years went by I stayed the same But she began to drift away I was left alone Still, I waited for the day When she'd say, "I will always love you"

It was as though it had been destined for years but finally finally the news came that Barcelona FC would have a women's team. Mapi had texted you with glee when the news broke out, she knew that she was stuck in her own contract but the fact it existed made it a possibility for her dreams to come true. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was a free agent. You thought, privately, that even if she wasn't a free agent that she would break every law on planet earth to play for her childhood club. She was offered a contract and signed without any hesitation. A mist in her eyes at the missing presence in her signing photos. You drove with Alba to collect her and all her things from a year in Valencia directly to your apartment. As you unpacked her stuff, Alba on a food run with money you had shoved into her hand, your small flat suddenly felt full. “Alex,” You called, from the living room, you heard her shuffle around and pop her head into the bedroom where you stood, surrounded by boxes. “Si, conejito?” she asked, breathlessly. You took in her smile, that you had missed over the months, the light in her eyes, the ease of her movements. “I am just asking, I don’t actually remember asking you to move in?” You say, teasingly, gesturing to her boxes surrounding you. It was true, you hadn’t, it had just been assumed by both of you, as well as both of your families. A blush rose up her neck, “I mean… I-i-..”. You burst out laughing. “I am just teasing you”. A glint in her eyes took over and you had half a second to brace yourself before you were tackled by an almost 6ft wall of muscle. You landed gently on the bed with a thump. “Well, light of my life. I think it’s too late for that. Maybe I can make up for my rudeness.” Her voice takes on a sultry tone, attacking your neck with kisses, making you groan. “No, No, No, No, stop it you two! Why is this my life!” Well. Alba was back, You groaned as Alexias full body weight fell onto you as she heard her sister. You had a feeling you both had plenty of time to make up for it. Living with Alexia full time was natural. You had obviously had practice from the year she spent in Valencia but you didn’t realise how easy it would be. You knew where to step to not fall over her boots in the hallway without looking. 

You amended your grocery show to include all her weird protein-packed foods. She would help you get ready for work in your evening gowns that you had to wear to fit in at the weddings, and she would stay up to make sure you got home safe and listened as you babbled on about your favourite parts, all the while taking it in for ideas for your own wedding. You continued to make money at weddings, Alexia rose through the ranks at the new Barcelona Femini team. Quickly establishing herself as a calm and serious captain. 

She took her role seriously,  she would study games religiously at home as you would paint or sketch. Your easel set up in the living room or on the balcony. She would rub your shoulders as you painted, eyes set on the TV at the game. The shared time doing your own activities matched you both perfectly. And just like that, years passed. Years in domestic bliss. Spent together and with your families. Vacations in Ibiza and even a pet cat called Pablo Petcatso, or Pabs for short, entered your little family unit. He was a ginger cat who loved a cuddle and loved getting into Alexia's kit bag, he even made it to the training once or twice, and you had to drive over there to pick him back up. Dragging him away from 22 cooing footballers. 

Women's football grew, as did Alexia's paycheck. And with that, you think, looking back, as did the cracks in your relationship.

“We're here!” Alexias excited voice explained, you had pulled up outside a tall apartment building in the centre of Barcelona. She hadn’t shared with you where you were going. Insisting it needed to be a surprise.

“And where is here?” you looked up at the towering glass building above you, you didn’t come into the city much, you preferred the quiet of your suburb.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Her excitement was catching, and you found yourself giddy as the elevator took you further into the skies of the city.

“Ta-da!” She presents a huge open plan space before you, the glass fronted living room has views over the city to the sea. You could count at least 3 bedrooms from where you stood in the hallway. The kitchen was sleek, straight lines and clean granite. 

“What is this place?” you ask, confused, taking in your surroundings. “It's our new apartment!” What? “What?” you breathe out. “Don’t you love it?!” Alexia remains giddy, her excitement not fading and she fails to notice your unenthused reaction. Your mind whirred. “Come look, come look!” she grabbed your hand, and pulled you further into the apartment. Proudly presenting each room to you. “And this room. I thought you could have it as your art studio!” “Art studio?” you whisper. “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool, and so much space. Now I wont get cross at you for getting paint all over the kitchen! Pabs will have so much room to explore!” She turns around and pulls you into her embrace, you are still shellshocked at everything presented to you. “I promised you, didn’t I? I would give you the world conejito.” Her eyes are so bright with joy, the smile so wide on her face, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the sleek lines, the large space, and the modern kitchen were beautiful. You didn’t see it for yourself, you preferred your terracotta tiled balcony and your plants overtaking your kitchenette. You loved painting in your living room when Alexia would watch a match. Pabs crawling over your shoulders, your little bubble with your family. But you could see how proud Alex was of herself, of what she had achieved. You must have taken a moment too long, as her eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it.” you said, plainly, “No… No Alex, I do! I was just so surprised. I love it, and I love you.” “Yeah?” her eyes brighten again. You kiss her lips softly, “Yeah.” “Good! And think conejito, maybe one day there would be room for a bigger family?” she asks, shyly. Your heart melted as you nodded frantically and threw yourself into her embrace. As Alexia's career grew, so did the pressure on her. She was often away, it was something your whole relationship had survived, but now, being away with both club and country, as well as in an apartment that had never truly felt like home. You felt lonely. You would come home from weddings with only Pabs to greet you, you would create art in your studio without the background noise of Alexia watching a game, or preparing a smoothie. She would do that in the living area. Nights together were rarer. Your love never dimmed. Alexia showed you in her every movement that she adored you. Date nights, whilst few and far between, were the highlight of your week. Though that soon became the highlight of your month. The one saving grace during this time was that Mapi had finally joined Barcelona Femini and you took it on yourself to be her personal Barcelona guide. As Alexia's fame grew, you shied more into the background. You weren't an extrovert. You would never hide your relationship and you never asked Alexia to but the only social media that you had was that to promote your artwork. Meanwhile, Alexia's followers grew and grew. A few crazed fans had deep dived into her archives and knew of you but that was only a portion of the fanbase. She hated the delving into her private life, and that caused her to stop posting anything of you onto her public accounts. Any trace of you, gone. Before being a footballer, in Alex’ mind, she was your protector, that hadn’t changed from 15 years ago. With 2021 came great change. All of the years of dreams and hard work had paid off and Barca had reached the champions league final. You travelled to Gothenburg with Eli and Alba, a nervousness in your stomach more than usual. For both your girlfriend and your best friend. You celebrated the win with a euphoria you had rarely felt. Everything felt worth it. The lonely nights, the travel around the country, the sacrifices you had to make as the partner of La Reina.

And as she pulled you into her arms after the final whistle, and pulled you over the barricade the same way she did when she scored her first professional goal your heart couldn’t swell more with pride. You don’t want to say that Alexia changed after the Ballon D’or. Because she didn’t. Well, maybe she did, she suddenly sported bright blonde locks which, you admit was sexy, but you missed the softness her natural hair gave her face. By the second Ballon D’or you thought maybe it was you that changed. Maybe it was you that put up a barrier. One that couldn’t be identified easily. But with study it could be noticed. The problem was that Alex wasn’t there to notice. Yeah, you were together, you did things together, you made love and you made memories. You went back to Mollet regularly and ate with your families and you went to games with Alba.  But Alexia was busy. She had brand deals, she had interviews, she had achieved her dream of being the best footballer in the world. You knew she was since you were 12. But now the world knew too. And the world wanted her attention. 

Oftentimes she was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t want to cuddle on the couch. She didn't want to walk around the plaza. She didn’t want to hear about your day. She would ask, but you could tell her mind was elsewhere, in some contract somewhere, so you started to lie. To give answers which would satisfy her without arousing suspicion. Always trying to put her ease first. 

You would decline for nights out with her teammates, you even lied once or twice and said you had a wedding to paint, just to avoid suspicion. Alexia would take your answer as the truth, and kiss your cheek lightly as she left the apartment which quickly felt like it had become your prison. Mapi could see through you. She would try to get you to talk, but she was Alexia's team mate. Alex was her captain. It didn’t feel right to discuss your relationship issues with her. Not when you wouldn’t even talk to the woman in question about it. You found yourself in the familiar seats of the Johan Cryuff stadium taking in the first home game of the new season. Alba and Eli by your side. The first game was always a family affair. With the Putellas cousins in attendance, a restaurant booked for this evening for you all. It was an easy win for the Champions of Europe. And as you stood with Mapi and her new girlfriend Ingrid at the end of the match chatting, Patri bounded over, sweat on her brow and joy in her eyes. “Hola Senora La Reina” she teased you, kissing your cheek, you had been around the team so much that they all knew you well. “Ay, Idiota, hands off” and large, familiar hands wrapped around your middle, a kiss planted to your other cheek as you melted into her embrace. “Congrats bebe” you muttered, craning you neck you see her looking down at you with a smile. “Senora Reina, you’ll come out for drinks with us to celebrate the win, won’t you?” Parti asked, full of joy. 

The attention of the 4 footballers on you suddenly unsettled you. Maybe it was the busy environment. Maybe it was being with Ingrid who you’d only met a few times. Maybe it was Alexias hands around you for the first time in what felt like months. But you struggled to get your words out. “Ah, gra…grac…gracias  for the invite diablo, but m…m…me…” “She’s coming out with mi familia Patri, it’s tradition! You know that! Vamos, I will come out quickly for a drink then join you all, conejito” Alexia interrupted you, planted a final kiss on your cheek and headed to the changing rooms. She didn’t feel you freeze in her embrace. She didn’t see Patri and Mapis expressions change. She didn’t see Ingrid's look of confusion. You felt sick. You felt like you were about to burst into tears. Your throat burned and you struggled to swallow. 

You felt small. You shuffled your feet on the ground and looked up to see Mapis' face had grown furious, her girlfriend's arm had come to rest over her shoulders, trying to settle her but unsure why. You went straight into damage control. Alexia has protected you your entire life. She had never interrupted you, she knew you couldn’t stand when people would finish your sentences. It was the worst thing you could do to someone with a stutter. She knew that. You don’t know why Alexia's endless patience ran out that day. But you knew you wanted to protect her from your best friend's rage. You knew it would happen one day, you just wish it had happened without any witnesses. For both of your sakes. “Mapi, it's fine.” “It is not fine!” Patri backs away from the situation with a kiss to your cheek and an apologetic look. “I don’t know what's wrong with her lately. I am going to kill her…” she moves towards the changing rooms but you pause her with a soft hand. “Maps, please don’t. It’s f…f…okay. I am okay. Ju…just go get changed and go on your night out. I will t..text you tomorrow. Please.” You look to Ingrid for help, you don’t know her well but she has the power over Mapi seemingly, and as she guides her to the changing rooms the small Spaniard seems to settle down. 

Not enough though, apparently, because as soon as she sees her captain again, a flicker of that rage comes back to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” Mapi hisses to her captain, “Maria, stop” Ingrid tugged her by the elbow, trying to take her away. Alexia looked up from her phone with a look of indignation, yes she was Mapis friend but she was still her captain, and they were in front of the whole team. Her defensive wall immediately came up. “Discuple?” Her eyes cast across the changing room, their team mates continued to get changed and pretended they weren’t eaves dropping into the mini argument that had developed.

“I said, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mapi spat out. “Why did you interrupt her?” Something in Alexia's stomach dropped. Her hands become clammy, her body reacting to the accusation before her mind could. “What? I didn’t. I would never.” she whispers in reply, but more to herself. “No, No I didn't.” she said more surely, somewhat desperately. 

Mapi takes in her best friend's demeanour, the usually stoic and strong captain looked devastated, maybe even petrified? Mapi knew what she had done, but could see that Alexia would punish herself more than Mapi ever could. She stepped away, guided by Ingrid. Leaving Alexia to replay the last 10 minutes, desperately. Mapi saw the moment that realisation came to the Catalan Captain, as she bolted out of the changing room, hair damp, throwing her shirt on as she sprinted back into the stadium. Which is where she found you, moments later. You were sitting in the friends and family section, Alexias new baby cousin settled onto your knee, playing with your hands and babbling to himself. You made cooing noises and spoke softly to him and all her Tias and Tios got rounded up for your meal out. You felt her presence behind you, you could practically feel her anxiety coming off her in waves. You looked back quickly and confirmed your suspicions, her blonde hair damp and wetting her shoulders, her foot twisting against the concrete floor, hands knotted together and bottom lip drawn into her lip, chewing anxiously. “It’s fine Alex.” you said, as you turned, attention back on the baby in your lap. She must have seen this acknowledgement as her body surged towards you, she loudly collapsed into the seat next to you, the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Conej…” she started. “No Alex, I pr…pr… I swear. It’s okay. But I’m currently holding the ba…bab…ba… child.” you take a sigh. “I am holding the child and I don’t want to cry so p…please. It’s okay.” If it's possible. She looked even more devastated. Her whole face collapsed. She hated when you would revert to old techniques to speak, by changing up your words mid sentence. Alexia was your protector. It was her proudest badge. Before she was a footballer, in her mind, she was your partner. And she had let you down. She had done the worst thing she could have done. To an outsider Alexia's moment of impatience may have been a minor indiscretion at most. But to you? To Alex? It was the basis of your whole relationship. You felt safe with her. You had a voice, she said, all those years ago when you fell in love, and you deserved to be heard. And now she has brought that into question. “Can I touch you?” she asked, gently. This brought tears to your eyes and you nodded, whilst still entertaining the baby in your lap with coo’s and a false smile. She touched your knee, the heat of her hand bleeding into your skin. “You don’t need to mask in front of me y/f/n.” Alexia never used your name. “Please. Use the words you want to use. I am here to listen. Always.” You are interrupted as Alexias Tia comes to claim her baby, who you hand back with a last pat on the stomach and raspberry to the cheek. You are trying to avoid the next 5 minutes you know will happen. Alexia is somewhat rude when her Tia offers her congratulations, eyes boreing into your head. You sweep your hair back as you face her, having had a moment to think you get your words out easier. “Alex, it’s okay. It was bound to happen one day. Don’t worry about it. Please. Go out with your friends. I will go to the meal as planned. I promise. Alba will drive me home later.” “No.” Alexia says desperately, clutching your hand in hers, “Let’s just go home, amor. Please.” “Ale I made a promise to your mami. I am going to eat. I will see you later.” you press a kiss to her cheek and wander off towards her family.  As she stands, watching you interact with her sister and her mami, her teammates call her over. She feels torn. She just wants to go home with you. She just wants to wrap you up in cotton wool and keep you in her arms. Safe. But you don’t want that right now, so she turns to do as instructed. Throwing one more glance your way, missing Albas worried face as she wipes a tear from your cheek.

Lonely and forgotten Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me Just like she used to do Like she loved me When she loved me

You came home early. You asked if Alba could drop you off as soon as you had finished your meal. She was happy to oblige, worried about your silence the entire meal. You were looking down at your phone as you entered your apartment. Assuring Mapi again that you were fine and she should enjoy her drinks. You go to flick on the light in the living area when a stream of light below the door of your studio distracts you. You push the door open cautiously and see Alexia standing there, looking at your work in progress. It was different to your usual work. A close up sketch of a hand, wrapped around a flower, tenderly, it was in the early stages, you could see the lines of the palm and the blades of grass in the field behind. It was mounted onto canvas on your easel and the splashes of colour you had started to add contrasted against the paleness of the room. She hadn’t heard you enter, too lost in the image before her, but Pabs making a run for the door as it opened brought her attention to you. As you stand there, under her gaze, you struggle to remember the last time you saw Alexia in your studio. Yeah she would bob in to let you know dinner was ready, or that she was heading out, but she didn’t come in often enough to take in your work anymore. Now it wasn’t forced on her in the living space. It seemed Alexia had the same realisation as she broke her gaze with you and gestured towards your painting, and then further, to your desk overlooking the window, where more of your work lay. “You’re amazing. I didn’t… I.” a deep breath. “I hadn’t forgotten but I think I… Got lost? Somewhere along the way?” you tilt your head curiously. You don’t know what she’s talking about. “I have been a bad partner to you.” 

“Alex…” “No. I have. And I’m not interrupting you but I won’t let you lie to protect me.” her eyes go again to your easel. “You’re amazing. You are so talented. You are filled with so much kindness. You deserve so much more than this.” her eyes fill with tears and she looks at you. “I tried. You know? I promise I did. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this,” she gestures towards you and around you “was what you deserved. And it is. But more than that you deserve everything.” She takes a step towards you and grasps your hands with hers, her hands are cold, you note. As you take her in you see dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and… damp hair. “Alexia, did you not go out with the team?” “How do you think that I could go out with the team after what I did?” she asks, aghast. The reminder of the way the evening went washes over you. Alexia panics when she sees your eyes fill with tears. And she pulls you into her chest. “I am so, so sorry mi amor. I am so sorry” she whispers into your hair. “I have broken something sacred between us. And I will never forgive myself.” she swears to you. Though that doesnt bring you any joy. “I forgive you Alex.” she shakes her head in despair, joining you in tears. “You said it was bound to happen someday,” she starts, “Do not think like that amor. It was not. This is not your fault. In any way. It is mine. Please don’t think that, you deserve to be heard. I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will never do it again, promesa.”  All you can do is nod into her chest.

She pulls you from the room and settles you both into the sofa, keeping the light off, only the skyline of the city illuminating your living room through the large, glassed wall. 

She lets you cry into her t-shirt, soaking it more than her damp hair, and through the darkness you pull away and take in her face, she looks youthful. Gone, the professional make up, the expensive jewellery, and hair darkened by the dampness from her shower. You take in a large choked breath. “We need to talk.” you let out. Fear takes over her features and she starts to shake her head. “No, Mi Conejito please no, don’t do this.” she wails. It is a heart wrenching sound. She thinks she's going to be sick. “Woah, woah, woah” you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her panicked eyes to yours; “Mi amor I am not breaking up with you.” you state, clearly. “I am not. Now breathe with me.” Her eyes steady from their darting around the room in fear, and you place your hand on her chest, making her breathe with you. “Okay, okay… okay. Yes, please. Talk to me.” she begs, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs.  “I feel alone. I feel… sa…sad. A lot of the time. And I know… you y…you aren’t doing it on pur…purpose.” Your girlfriend looks heartbroken. Like she had just found out her entire family had died. But refuses to interrupt you as you speak. But you have needed this conversation for so long, that the words start to tumble out of you. Getting lodged in your throat. Har large hand comes up to that familiar place, and massages the soft tissue behind your jaw. Trying to help you without interrupting. “You aren’t doing it on purpose.” you repeat. She pauses for a moment and doesn't ask what you thought she would. “Why am I making you anxious?” she asks, cutting through your thoughts. You move away from her and settle your elbows to your knees. Rubbing your face as you feel a large hand settle onto your back. You hated your stutter. You hated that it ruled your life, but most of all you hated how it exposed you. You were like a child who can’t hide a blush in front of their crush. “You aren’t, Alexia.” “Alex.” she corrects, “I am Alex to you” she insists, “your Alex. It’s just me, mi amor.” she looks at you desperately. “I feel alone, you are never here, and when you are here physically, you aren’t here in your head. Your head is in the clouds, it is with your agent, with your coach, it is not with me.” you’ve started now, so you won’t be able to stop yourself “it is me and Pabs and, even though you're dumb as bricks bebe, you're a better conversationalist than him” you try to joke, a half smile on your face. Which she matches, hand not stopping her ministrations on your back. 

“I cannot remember the last time we just sat together, the last time that we cooked together. Can you Alex?” you don’t receive a reply, 

“I haven’t had your eyes, look at me, really look at me for months. You give your time so easily to those around you, your team mates, people I see you out with at events. I can’t blame you, this is what you always dreamed of. But… I miss you.” Your speech is strong now; “and I love you. That will never change. But you need to know how I am feeling. So it's fair to you. I feel as though you are bigger than the world. And I am just the girl you saved in the art room.” She is openly crying now. “Don’t say that, you are everything” she mumbled, through tears. 

She knew that she had been busy. But she didn’t realise the damage that she had done. She had been to events, you had been at her side. But. When was the last time she asked about a wedding you’d worked? God, you used to sit for hours describing the beautiful scenes, and she’d store away ideas for your own wedding.  The last gallery you had shown at? When had she last visited your mami and papi, who had been there for her her entire life? She kept you off social media for your protection, but she didn’t mean to erase you. When had she become so god damn selfish. “Amor, I think that somewhere along the way, I had forgotten, and forgotten to remind you. There are more important things than football. Well. Football is second”.

You are thrown back to a memory, a school championship 15 years ago, sat on the bleachers watching your school get destroyed. The lanky football captain sat by your side. You can’t help it but tears fill your eyes. You missed her. That girl. The one you were and the one she was. “But.. you told me once, that I could have both.” she whispered, into your neck, “and you can, Alex. Of course you can. But you have to want both. And at the moment. It feels. It feels like you don’t want me.” “No! Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Conejito. You are everything. Eres mi mundo. I am nothing without you.” she takes a breath, deep and shuddering. “I will fix this. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I have a chance to fix this. Si?” she asks, desperately. You nod, “Of course Alex, and it's for both of us to fix, I should have said something sooner.” She refuses your admittance of guilt and drags you into bed. She sticks to you like a second skin. Moves with you to brush your teeth. Standing waiting whilst you use the toilet. She places a fresh glass of water on your bedside table.You want to tell her to give you a bit of space, but the fear in her eyes prevents you from doing so. As soon as you crawl into your side of the bed she has pulled you into her embrace and the warmth that fills you goes beyond the shared body heat. For the first time in a long time, you wake up in the strong arms of Alexia. She hasn’t moved in the night an inch, and you take a moment to take her in. This is what you missed. Just breathing the same air as her. Just existing in the same space. As though she can feel you looking at her she begins to stir. Taking a moment to come to her senses, her arms grip you tighter around your waist. “Hola, Mi amor” she whispers into the air. Your response is a kiss to her lips, which she steals, hungrily. As you deepen the kiss you feel her begin to pull away. “Lo siento, mi amor, we cannot get carried away. Things to do.” your heart hurts again. You roll off the taller girl and reach for your phone as a distraction. 

You thought, maybe, just maybe, for today at least. You would spend the day together. “Things to do!” she repeats, jumping out of bed with glee. “Where’s your passport”. That grabs your attention. “Que?” you ask, confusingly. “Your passport amor, Vamos!” She had long ago left the bed, and had started moving around the room, picking up various bags which had definitely not been there when you went to bed and moving them into the hallway. She was like a ball of energy, she stripped off her oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving her standing in just her boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight. Well, you think, at least all the time not spent with you was doing something good. You find yourself in a trance, practically salivating at your view.

A change of clothes being thrown at your head brings you out of your stupor. “Dressed. Go.” Alexia teases you, definitely having caught you starting. This makes you finally start to move as you shrug on the jogging bottoms and hoodie she threw at you. Happily, you note, it's one of hers that you’ve already destroyed with paint marks on the cuffs. “Why do you need my passport Alex? What's with the bags?” “We’re going on vacation!” That stops you, half in, and half out of your hoodie. Getting yourself stuck. “Vacation?” you ask, voice muffled by the fabric. You hear Alexia make her way over to you, then feel her gently pull you free from your fabric prison. “Si…” she gently tells you. A look overcomes her face which you can’t distinguish, then she kisses your nose, softly. “Vacation. Just me and you amor.”

“But what about work?” you ask, still catching up. “You don’t have anything booked for 6 days, I checked your calendar. And where we are going, you can bring all your art things if you need them. I’ve packed the basics in my carry-on already.” “Not my work. Alex, your work. You have a busy week.” at this point you seem to have lost her attention as she turns to your question dismissively. “I cancelled it.” she replies, simply. “You cancelled it.” you repeat. “Si.” “Alexia! Have you lost your mind! You have training, you have that meeting with Oakley - you have the pre-euros media to do! You have a game in 3 days”  you reel off her calendar, watching as she continues to dress and pack her toiletries. She heaves out a sigh and turns back to you.

“Conejito, I know what I had, you don’t need to tell me I have just spent all night cancelling all of them. I spoke to Jona and he’s happy for me to miss the game. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” she moves closer to you again, “So no, I have not lost my mind. But, I did almost lose you, so please. Please tell me where your passport is so we can get on the plane I booked. Mapi will be here in a moment to take Pabs for the week.”  You find yourself standing there, stunned. She seemingly had thought of everything. You look into the hall at the bags packed there ready to go. Pabs sniffed them curiously. She’s looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. There's nothing else for you to do you suppose. As you turn from her and open your bedside table,  a smile can’t be kept off your face, you turn triumphantly with your passport held high. “Voila!” you present it to her; “What are you waiting for then Alex! We've got a plane to catch!” as you scurry out of the room and you hear the front door knock. Alexias cackle behind you. Alexia was always full of surprises when she wanted to be and she remained tight lipped all the way to the airport, refusing to tell you your destination. 

You assumed it would be one of the islands somewhere, with the size of her luggage maybe somewhere farther afield, sun, sea and a pool somewhere promised. But she shocked you. When you got to the check in desk and realised you were flying to Switzerland you could have been knocked down with a feather. Your Alex, who was upset when she even had to wear a bikini top in the month of August, has booked for you to go to Switzerland? 

She ignored your curious stare and just continued to sweet talk the check in lady, upgrading you to business class. As you descended hours later, between the snow peaked mountains against a stunning orange sun you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your hands itched to claim the sketch book from Alexias carry on. Soon, after collecting your luggage and Alexia picking up a hire car that has also been pre booked (seriously did this girl sleep at all the night before?), you found yourself being driven through a mountain forest, as a lodge that seemed to cling to the mountainside came into view, isolated and beautiful. You stood on the wooden balcony, hands gripping a warm drink as you took in the view of the sun setting behind the mountains. “Look at that, Amor.” you felt, more than heard, whispered against your ear. Lips planting a kiss at your jaw as strong hands settle over your stomach. 

You fell back into her embrace. “It’s so beautiful.” you replied, eyes focused on the scene before you. “I saw this advert. Months ago.” she continued. “Just in the back of a catalogue at work. They will have the Euros near here, you know, 2025?” That made you snort with laughter. “Ah, I see Putellas, now it makes sense how you’ve been dragged from the beach, scoping out the environment are we? Anything for that competitive edge.” your teasing is clear in your voice. 

You feel a pinch on your stomach, “No, idiota,” though the laugh is clear in her voice. “I saw that advert and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It is so beautiful here.” you hum in agreement, “But what I could not get out of my head was that I wanted you to see it. I love seeing the world through your eyes.” 

She turns you in her embrace and she places a gentle kiss to your forehead as you feel her breathe you in. “You see things so beautifully, Amor, and then you paint them for the world to see. You are so special.” Your heart melts at the blonde, and you feel some of the despair that had settled into your stomach over the last months shrink. Here Alexia was, at work, flicking through some promotional material between interviews and training, and her thoughts are with you. “And I will not let you forget how special you are, ever. Never again”. You spent those days in pure bliss. You spend the days hiking - her pretending to be as tired as you at the peak of a mountain, she was a terrible actress but you appreciate the sentiment non the less - having picnics, exploring the mountain villages, and on one particularly spicy day, skinny dipping in an isolated mountain lake that a swiss teammate had told Alexia about. Evenings were spent looking up at the stars together, you firmly in alexias lap on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine which you held. She pointed out stars that her Papa had shown her and given silly names to, and you were there to catch her tears. She would complain only minimally that she was cold, and you would offer to warm her up and she would lead you gently into the bedroom. Nights spent in each other's embrace, sighs shared and no alarms to wake you. You would dance around the kitchen, play cards at the table, share wine and stories and just catch up. 

The pit in your stomach mended with each kiss, each peel of laughter and each stroke of the skin. 

One evening, after the skinny dipping adventure in which the footballer insisted that she must have hypothermia and had taken herself off over an hour ago telling you she wasn’t coming out of the warm shower until she had become a prune. You had started to add the finishing touches to a sketch of the scene beyond your lodges window when you felt the blonde return into the room, You eyed her quickly, flannel tartan pyjamas covering her tall frame, hanging over her wrists, matching shorts which are despicably short. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable. 

You didn’t know why she was staring at you though, She moved towards you and you made space for her on the couch.  “You have your glasses on, Conejita.” she mumbled, and you reached up, as though to confirm they were on your face, “I didn’t know you still wore them.” You didn’t, too be honest, but with the long day of fresh air and a strong sun on the mountainside your eyes had grown tired. You shrugged at her, as she placed a soft kiss on your lips. Lovesick look in her eyes. “You’re so hot.” She mumbled, more to herself. You hear though, and the blush runs up your neck. 

You moved to get your work off your lap but she stopped you, pulling you back into her embrace and you automatically moved your knees up to rest your sketchbook there. “Carry on, please.” her chin rested on your shoulder. You hesitated, you didn’t come all this way to not spend time with the blonde, you wanted to soak in every minute. You wouldn’t be happy if she started to kick a ball around in the kitchen. She could sense your hesitation, “please. Remember, I like the sound of your pencil.” she moves your free hand to her bare thigh, “and it gives me goosebumps.” You fell in love again over those 6 days. You never fell out of it. But maybe you both just needed reminding. You felt whole, your communication about how you were feeling had worked, Alexia had listened. You just had one worry though, as the plane landed back in Barna you couldn’t hold it in. “Alex.” you said, before the seatbelt sign came on, gripping her arm lightly. “This was the best trip of my life. Thank you.” Her smile cracked her face, and she looked immensely proud of herself. “Mine too, Amor.” she agreed, easily, her face was peaceful . “But. I can’t go back to how things were again, si? I don’t think I could survive it, not after this week.” she's already shaking her head. “It won’t, I promise. I will not let that happen. Me and you, Si? That is all that is important” you take a moment, “And Pabs.” you amend for her, breaking the tension. “Si, of course” she rolls her eyes, “and Pablo Petcatso.” 

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me

“Hey, Al?” you shout, into the living room as you enter your flat. It's been a few weeks since you returned from your impromptu get away. A busy few weeks. You have been booked up and Alex had to make up for the time she had lost, Barca were still in 4 competitions so the match load was heavy. You could see she was trying though, so that made the darkness that had started to creep back in more bearable. She wasn’t home from training yet. Which disappointed you more than usual. You were giddy. 

You had just found out that your art had been selected to be shown at a huge gallery opening in the centre of the city. An established and high-end gallery. It was a big deal, and it was potentially your big break. You got flutters in your stomach even thinking about the commissions it could make you. Pabs popped his head around the door and you picked him up giddily and span him around, his meow in response you took as a congratulations as you danced and laughed. You didn’t hear the door behind you open but you heard your favourite voice in the world, “And what have I walked into here, hey, a party with my favourite two? Without me?” Alexia laughed.  “Alex, we're celebrating!” you let Pabs free from your grip as he scurried away from his crazy mama. Her arms loop around you as you move into a slow dance, grinning up at her; “Ah, Si? And what are we celebrating?” “I got chosen! For the gallery!” Your feet leave the floor as the taller girl fully brings you into her arms, lifting you and spinning you around in glee, the squeal she lets out is full of childlike joy. “Of course you did! You are amazing!” she plops you back down and attacks your face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you Mi Amor and I am so excited to see your gallery. Oh I can get all dressed up and be your arm piece!” The thought brings you pure joy, the image of Alexia standing by your side, proudly, champagne in hand. Your Mami and Papi and Eli and Alba all present. Pabs in a little bow tie. “Si?” you ask, shyly, much more used to being by her side, “You’ll come? It is in 4 weeks. The 16th. You should be just starting on break.” A shadow of sadness passes her face at your insecurity, “Amor even if I was not on break I would not miss this for the world. If I had the world cup final I would call in sick. I will be there.  I will be the girl with the biggest bouquet of flowers in all of Barna with the lovesick look on her face.” It had been a whirlwind of a month, you had to put the finishing touches on your pieces. 

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

Scenes from the road to Valencia, The Square in Mollett, Beach Scenes in Barca, Snow capped mountains of Switzerland.

It was the story of your love for Alexia. Told through scenes only the two of you could understand the significance of. 

In the week leading up to the opening, you would spend late nights at the gallery, setting up lighting with Mapi and your Papi. Eli would walk around straightening frames on the walls. As you settled into bed each night, Alexia would open her arms and bring you into her warn embrace. 

You couldn’t wait to share your love story with the world. Alexia was having a bad day. It started bad. And continued to be bad. First, she woke up alone, which she hated. 

She recalled a kiss to the forehead and a whispered ‘I'll see you later’ before she'd dozed back off.  Then she realised that she had forgotten to charge her phone and was therefore late to training. Well. Not late for normal people. But late for Alexia. Then she forgot her socks and had to steal some of Irenes. She had a bad training session and Patri beat her in all their 1v1’s. And then the icing on the cake. She was dragged out from her gym session to do media which she hated. By the time she had finished the changing rooms were mostly empty, with only Pina and Patri left, scheming together in a corner.

“Ah now, Capi! Turn that frown upside down!” Pina teased her, “Ay, come out for a drink with me and Patri, the girls are all coming later, a bonding session before the break!”

And Alexia would usually say no, she wasn’t one for massive social events. But a drink sounded good. And it was the last day of training before the break.

Which is how she found herself 4 drinks in, deep in a booth in Patris favourite bar downtown. Most of the girls had joined them and laughter and chatter filled the roped off space. Something was missing and it took Alexia a moment to realise that there wasn’t a yapping in her ear.

“Ay, Pina, where are Mapi and Ingrid?” 

“They text the group, they had something on but they’re going to join us after. Ah… here they are!” Pina turned as Patri dragged her to the dance floor. Alexia turned to where Pina had pointed and saw Ingrid and Mapi walking towards her. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave, as they got closer she took in their state of dress; “Ay, sexy mamas, it’s only a night out with the team. Why are you dressed so nice? Have you just come from your wedding?” Mapi looked at Alexia. But really, really looked at her. “What?” nothing. “Maria, what? Why are you looking at me like that? Ingrid?” she faced the usually kind woman but she wasn’t met with her usual smile, “What’s happening? Wh-ohmygod.” It hit Alexia like a freight train. Like 10 freight trains. She physically had to hold onto the chair to her side to remain standing.  “No, no, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have done.” She starts to pat herself down and pulls her phone out, dead, still uncharged from the night before. She holds it up to Mapi, as evidence, evidence of what she doesn’t know. As though it gives her a lifeline. She knows it doesn’t. “Ingrid? Ingrid please tell me I didn’t miss it.” she asks, desperately. The tall girl looks away, as though she can’t even face what the captain had done. “Alexia.” The rage is barely contained in Mapis' voice. “I can’t even look at you.” Mapi turns to leave, but it's as though her anger wont let her; she turns again and spits out; “Do you think she needed a reminder on her phone to know when the Champions League final was? Do you think… I can’t… I have just come from her gallery opening. Her life's work. A life shared with you. And here you are. At a bar. Celebrating, what?  A game of football? A half season well done? Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck. Off” Ingrid grips her hand and tries to pull her away. All Alexia can do is stand there and take it, it's not a hundredth of what she deserves. “No Ingrid.” She pulls her hand free and pushes her finger into Alexia's chest. “You are a selfish monster. She thought you must be hurt. That's what she thought. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere. She almost cancelled the whole thing to run around hospitals to find you. But then Alba saw you on Patris instagram. And here you are. La Reina.” Mapi looks her up and down, pure disgust on her face. “Your Mamis held her as she sobbed. Alba redid her makeup. I would steer clear of her Papi for months if I were you. She is strong, and she gave a speech.” Alexia couldn’t breathe. You gave a speech? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.  “Please, Maria, stop. I can’t listen.” Alexia couldn’t take it. She moved Mapis' hand off her chest and ran to the door of the club. One thought in her mind. Get to you. Get to you. “It's too late Alexia.” Mapi shouts to her back. She ignores her. It can’t be. No It can't be. She jumps out of the uber onto the unfamiliar street. The lights to the gallery are off but she desperately tries the door regardless. Banging on it with her fist in frustration. She lets out a scream into the empty street. Peering through the windows she sees wall after wall of your work. Scenes she recognises from her life. Football pitches. Beaches, Mountains. The scene from your balcony in Mollet. It was all so beautiful. So carefully curated. And she wasn’t there. She takes off at a run. It’s not too late. Mapi is wrong. It’s not too late. She will die if it is too late. “Y/N!” she barged into the apartment. She must have ran 10 miles. “Y/N are you here?” She runs from room to room. But there is no one there. When that's established she plugs her phone into the charger on the breakfast bar and makes her way back through the apartment. She goes into the bedroom. No, please no. The wardrobe is open, your side is empty. She looks around. Your things are gone.

The kitchen remains largely unaffected. Though the picture of you and your parents no longer sits on the shelf. Your trainers are gone from the hall. Your favourite blanket from the couch. She looks at the walls. Anything you had painted. Gone. Alexia always insisted that your art be on the walls, in each home you shared together. “Why would I want strangers work on the walls, Mi Amor? When I have the best artist in the world here?” she would say, making you blush. She was addicted to that blush. She walks back into the hallway. One picture remains in pride of place. The picture you presented to her in her darkest moment. You would never take that away from her. It was a gift of pure adoration. All it does is make the stabbing pain in Alexia's heart worsen. She pushes open the door to your art studio. All that remains are paints and blank canvases. Except. In the middle of the room. The easel. A picture she had seen before, in its early stages. A hand. A hand holding a beautiful flower. But it had changed somehow. Pressure lines had appeared. The flower beginning to wilt under the force. It wasn’t your usual work. Alexia stood closer. Entranced. As she inspected the image she saw the light tease off still wet paint. You had touched this up recently. Her eyes search, frantically for anything of your last moments in the apartment when she catches it. Too light for anyone not searching for it. 11. Blended into skin at the wrist of the image. A tattoo. So lightly painted but it etched itself fiercely into Alexia's soul. This was her hand. This hand that was silently destructive, was hers.  She saw a post it note stuck to the leg of the easel and in your looping handwriting: ‘Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't use it.’

She brought her hand up to her mouth and let out an audible gasp. She runs into the kitchen and dry heaves over the sink. There, she watches as her tears splash into the marble. And as she watches. She takes note of a single paint droplet. Her tears joined it, creating the most heart crushing piece of work she had ever seen.

God. She used to get so angry at that paint in the sink.

It's been years, she thought, years since she found paint in the sink. How much did you have to lessen yourself in order to be with her?

She collapsed into a seated position. Back against the kitchen cabinet. And brought her knees to her chest. She sobbed. And sobbed. She was joined at one point by Pabs. She thought you’d taken him with you. But no, in a typical act of kindness you wouldn’t leave her alone in her despair.

His little bow tie still sat around his neck, skew-whiff, as he looked at his mama curiously. He licked her nose and she sobbed harder.

Weeks passed.

She doesn’t know how she got through those weeks. Thousands of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. Went unanswered.

Alexia didn’t hear from you. Her Mami and Alba had forgiven her after Alba had found her in a state and unable to look after herself but they made it clear they were on your side. Mapi wouldnt look at her. They wouldn't tell her where you were, they wouldn’t pass on any message.

She was too frightened to go to your Mami and Papa.

She hadn’t trained well for weeks, She arrived at training exhausted. Sleep would never find her. She was barely clinging on. Jona still insisted she play. She was La Reina.

And then she broke. And that's where Irene found her, after another match of lacklustre performance. In a back corridor of the stadium. Broken and staring at the wall in front of her.

A ghost of the woman she was. 

Her phone lay next to her. A message from you. A response to her apologies, her thoughts, the pain she had told you she felt for your failed relationship. 

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[reveriebae]

Loyalty

pairing(s) : Jeong Yunho x f!reader

word count : 8457

summary : You had always kept things light, until a certain someone changes the rules. With a game of chase, tension builds between you and him, leaving you questioning where the lines truly are. What happens when control slips and the heat becomes too much to ignore?

genre : smut

warning(s) : possessive! Yunho, unprotected sex, fingering, rough sex. Let me know if I missed anything!

Part of Songfic

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

It was a regular Saturday, one of those nights where everything seemed laid-back, just a bit of adrenaline in the air from the thrill of a race. Mingi had dragged you along to watch his friends compete, even though you weren’t too interested in the whole racing scene. Still, it was a chance to get out, and you weren’t gonna pass that up. Besides, Mingi always had a way of making it sound more exciting than it really was.

You leaned back against the railing, watching the cars rev their engines on the starting line. Mingi’s voice echoed from beside you, his usual grin plastered across his face as he talked about how “insane” Yunho, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and San were behind the wheel.

“Just wait. Yunho’s gonna win tonight,” Mingi said, nudging you with his elbow. “Dude’s got a need for speed. You might wanna watch closely.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just try not to fall asleep.”

Mingi laughed, but you weren’t listening to him anymore. Your gaze had shifted to the racers on the track. Yunho was talking with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, his attention flickering over to you for a second. His eyes locked with yours, and something about the way his lips curved into that playful smirk made your heart skip a beat.

You weren’t stupid—you knew exactly what kind of guy Yunho was. Charming, confident, and always surrounded by girls. He had a reputation for being the fun one, but you weren’t looking for fun. You had your own rules, your own way of handling things. Casual. No strings attached. You didn’t do loyalty—not after everything that had happened before.

But still, as you watched him approach with that easy swagger, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was a little different. He was already too close before you even realized it.

“Y/N,” Yunho called your name, a grin tugging at his lips. “What’s up? Didn’t know Mingi was bringing a cute girl to watch the race.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just here to watch. I’m not really into all the hype.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it exciting for you,” Yunho said, stepping a little closer. He was a little too close, but you didn’t back away. Don’t fall for it, you told yourself. He was just a guy—another one of Mingi’s friends, another person you could keep at arm’s length.

“Who’s your money on?” he asked, still watching you with that intense gaze.

You gave him a dismissive smile. “Not a fan of betting on things I know I won’t win,” you replied, teasing him a little. “But I guess if I had to pick, I’d go with the guy who looks like he has the most fun.” You nodded toward Seonghwa, who was smirking, chatting with San.

Yunho chuckled, leaning against the railing beside you. “You know, I don’t mind taking that challenge,” he said, voice low and a little too serious for your liking. “But you should be careful with your bets. You might just end up losing something you didn’t plan on.”

You didn’t respond, giving him a quick side glance, but you couldn’t help the flush that crept up your neck. Don’t let him get to you. But there was something about the way he said it, that dark promise in his voice, that made your stomach twist.

Mingi appeared beside you, flashing a grin at you both. “You two getting cozy already?” he teased, eyeing Yunho and then you. You shot him a look that was meant to silence him, but Yunho just laughed, unbothered.

As the race started, the cars took off, the roar of engines filling the air, but you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you weren’t paying attention to the race at all. Every time you glanced over at Yunho, there he was, his focus locked on you like he was trying to figure you out.

And you hated how much you liked it.

The race went on, but you could barely concentrate. The engines roared as the cars zoomed by, but your eyes kept flicking back to Yunho. He wasn’t paying much attention to the race either. Instead, his gaze was fixed on you, his expression a little too intense for your liking. It was like he was studying you, gauging every little reaction.

You tried to ignore him, but it was hard. He was standing too close, his presence like a weight pressing down on you. Every time he leaned in to speak, his breath was warm against your ear, his voice smooth and deep, sending shivers down your spine.

“Are you sure you don’t want to place a bet? I could show you how exciting it gets when you’re in the game,” Yunho said, his words laced with something dangerous.

You shook your head, trying to shake the feeling that he wasn’t just talking about the race. “I’m good. Not really into gambling.”

He smirked, leaning a little closer. “It’s not gambling if you know you’re gonna win,” he whispered, his lips just inches from your ear.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, your breath hitching slightly, but you couldn’t let him see it. You couldn’t let him win that easily. “Maybe. But I’m not so sure about that.”

Yunho pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and focused. “You don’t think I can win, do you?” he asked, a playful challenge in his tone, but there was something deeper, more possessive hidden behind it. He was pushing you, seeing how far he could go.

“I didn’t say that,” you replied quickly, though your voice was a little shaky. Focus, Y/N, you reminded yourself. He was just another guy, another player in this game. You weren’t about to get caught in his trap.

Before you could say anything else, Mingi slapped Yunho on the back, pulling his attention away. “Quit messing with my sister, man. She’s not here to fall for your charm,” he said, looking between the two of you.

Yunho just laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just keeping things interesting. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she has a good time.”

You shot Mingi a thankful look, but it didn’t quite ease the tension Yunho had stirred up. It was like he was testing the waters, seeing just how much he could make you squirm before you gave in. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep your distance.

As the race wrapped up, Yunho leaned in one last time, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ll be around, Y/N. Don’t think you can avoid me forever.”

You couldn’t tell if he was challenging you or warning you, but either way, something told you he wasn’t done with you.

And just like that, you found yourself wondering if you were playing with fire.

The race ended, and the crowd erupted in cheers as Seonghwa pulled ahead to take the win. His car, sleek and dark, had crossed the finish line first, and everyone was congratulating him, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement. Yunho’s red car had finished second, and though he looked a little disappointed, the way he carried himself showed that he wasn’t about to let it bother him.

As the others made their way toward Seonghwa’s place to celebrate, Mingi turned to you with a grin. “I’ll catch up with you later. You’re gonna be fine on your own, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” you assured him, trying to hide the tight knot in your stomach.

But as Mingi started walking away, you noticed Yunho lingering near his car. He caught your eye, offering a small, almost knowing smile.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll see you off,” Yunho said smoothly, walking toward you. “I’ve got something else to do, so I’ll skip the party tonight.”

Mingi, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean you’re seeing her off? She can take a cab.”

You saw Yunho’s smirk grow just a little. “It’s nothing. I just want to make sure she gets home safely. Don’t worry about it.”

Mingi hesitated, looking between you and Yunho. His protective instincts flared, but after a moment, he just shrugged and muttered something about trusting you. “Fine, whatever. Just… don’t keep her out too late.”

You rolled your eyes as Mingi walked off, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t about the time. It was about Yunho. And you were starting to feel like Mingi was more worried about you getting tangled up in whatever game Yunho was playing than anything else.

As you climbed into the passenger seat of Yunho’s red car, the engine hummed to life. The ride back to your apartment was a quiet one at first. Yunho’s presence beside you was overwhelming, the tension in the air thick and unspoken. His grip on the steering wheel was firm, his jaw set in that way that made him look so damn serious. But you could still feel his eyes flicking to you every now and then, as if he were testing you, waiting for some kind of reaction.

“So,” Yunho’s voice broke the silence, smooth and almost casual, “Seonghwa definitely earned that win. But you were watching me, right?”

You let out a breath, trying to act casual, but there was something about his question that felt almost like a dare. “I watched the race. What’s the big deal?”

He laughed softly, but there was an edge to it. “Right. The race. Sure. But you were looking at me, weren’t you?”

You shot him a glance, but his focus remained on the road. You wanted to brush it off, to deny it, but the way he was acting made it hard. Every inch of you felt like it was being pulled into his orbit, and the more you fought it, the more you found yourself getting tangled up in his game.

“I wasn’t,” you said, your voice faltering just enough that you knew he caught it.

Yunho’s lips quirked into a satisfied smirk, his fingers tightening slightly on the wheel. “It’s okay. I don’t mind if you were watching me. I like it when you’re paying attention.”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest. There was something about the way he said it, so casually, that made it feel like it wasn’t just a comment about the race anymore. The unspoken tension between you two was building, thick and undeniable.

The car slowed as you neared your apartment, the sound of the tires against the pavement almost too loud in the quiet. Yunho pulled into the parking lot, but he didn’t park right away. Instead, he took a moment, his eyes catching yours. It was brief, but it was enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

“You don’t have to be so distant, Y/N,” he said, his tone low and coaxing, “I’m not like the others. I won’t hurt you. But you’ve got to trust me if we’re going to keep playing this game.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t need any of this, that you didn’t want to fall into whatever he was offering, but the truth was you weren’t sure anymore. With him so close, with the way he looked at you, it was hard to hold on to your walls.

Instead, you just said, “Thanks for the ride.”

Yunho didn’t smile, but there was something in his eyes. “You’re welcome. Just remember… I’m always here if you need me, Y/N.”

You didn’t respond, but the weight of his words hung in the air, even as he shifted the car into park. As you stepped out, his gaze lingered on you, almost too intense, like he was waiting for something.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t just leaving you with a ride. He was leaving you with a promise. And you weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

The next day came faster than you’d expected. The lingering tension from the night before still clung to you like a shadow, and no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, it was there—right at the back of your mind, like a soft hum that refused to be ignored.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way Yunho looked at you when he dropped you off. There was something in his eyes, something possessive, like he was claiming a piece of you without even trying. And you hated how much you liked it.

As you made your way to the café that morning, trying to push thoughts of him away, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You reached for it, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a message from Yunho.

Yunho: “You left in a hurry last night. Didn’t even let me walk you up.”

You scoffed, fingers hovering over the screen as you debated how to respond. It wasn’t like you had anything to hide. But the way he’d said it… it felt almost like a subtle accusation. Like he was reminding you that you didn’t let him in.

You: “I’m fine. I didn’t need you to walk me up.”

A few seconds passed before the reply came.

Yunho: “Mhm. Sure you didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, tapping your phone screen with frustration. You had no idea why you were getting so caught up in this. It was supposed to be casual, right? No strings attached. Just like everything else.

But something about Yunho was different. You weren’t sure what it was, but you couldn’t help but be drawn to him in a way that was harder to ignore.

Before you could think too much about it, you heard footsteps approaching. Turning your head, you saw Wooyoung walking over to you, a grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well, look who’s out here so early.” Wooyoung greeted you with a teasing smile. “How’s the ride back home last night?”

You glanced away quickly, trying not to make it obvious that you were still feeling the heat from the night before. "It was fine," you said, hoping your voice didn’t betray you.

“I bet,” Wooyoung smirked, clearly noticing the shift in your mood. “Yunho looked pretty serious about giving you a ride home. You know he doesn't do that for just anyone.”

You froze. “What do you mean?”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “He’s the type of guy who likes to keep things casual, but I’ve never seen him so... invested before. Just a heads up, Y/N. Don’t get caught up. You’re his next target. And once he’s got his sights on you…” Wooyoung trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Your heart skipped. You knew what he meant. But part of you didn’t want to believe it. Part of you wanted to believe that Yunho was different. But another part—maybe the part that still feared getting hurt—couldn’t help but wonder if Wooyoung was right.

“I can handle myself,” you replied coolly, trying to sound unaffected by his words.

Wooyoung just smirked again, obviously not buying it. “Sure you can. But just remember… there’s more to Yunho than what he shows you.”

Before you could respond, Wooyoung was already heading inside the café, leaving you standing there with a mix of frustration and confusion swirling in your chest. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to get a lot more complicated.

You spent the next few minutes pretending Wooyoung’s words didn’t bother you. You ordered your coffee, found a quiet corner, and scrolled mindlessly through your phone, but nothing could shake the way your stomach twisted at his warning.

You’re his next target.

It shouldn’t have mattered. You’d been through this before—casual, no strings, nothing deep. If anything, Yunho was your target, not the other way around. But something about the way Wooyoung said it… like he knew something you didn’t… it got under your skin.

Your fingers tightened around your cup just as a shadow loomed over your table.

“Morning, baby.”

You looked up, pulse skipping. Yunho stood in front of you, his broad frame cutting out the light from the café window. He looked effortless, like he didn’t even have to try—just a simple hoodie, messy hair, and those damn dark eyes pinning you down.

You took a slow sip of your coffee, trying not to react. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Yunho pulled out the chair across from you, his lips quirking up in amusement. “That makes two of us.”

You didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered over you, slow and assessing, like he was searching for something.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

You shrugged. "Why wouldn’t I?"

His smile widened just a little, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "No reason. Just wondering if I kept you up last night."

Your breath hitched. You hated the way he said things like that—so smooth, so controlled, like he knew exactly what kind of reaction he was pulling from you.

You forced yourself to look unimpressed. "Not at all. I slept just fine."

“Good,” Yunho murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “Wouldn’t want you distracted.”

The tension between you thickened, unspoken but very present. You had the sudden urge to look away, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you smirked. “Didn’t expect you to care so much.”

Yunho chuckled, low and deep. "Maybe I don’t. Maybe I just like messing with you."

Your fingers tightened around your cup. His words were playful, but there was something lurking beneath them, something deeper than just a game.

"Then don't get attached," you said, your voice light but laced with meaning. "I like keeping things casual."

For a second, something flickered in Yunho’s eyes—something unreadable. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual smirk.

"Casual, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretching out beneath the table, nearly brushing against yours. "Funny. You don't seem like the type to play it safe."

You raised a brow. "And what type do I seem like?"

Yunho tilted his head, studying you. "The kind that likes danger."

You felt your breath hitch before you could stop it. His voice was soft but firm, like a promise. Or maybe a threat.

Before you could respond, Yunho’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed, glancing at the screen before standing up.

“Duty calls.” He tucked his phone away, then gave you a long, unreadable look. “See you later, Y/N.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you with nothing but a racing pulse and a head full of thoughts you really didn’t want to have.

Maybe Wooyoung was right. Maybe you were playing with fire.

But for some reason… you wanted to get burned.

The next evening, Mingi was already dragging you out of your apartment before you could protest.

"Another race? Didn’t we just go to one?" you groaned, but Mingi just grinned, practically shoving you into his car.

"This one's different," he said. "And you had fun last time, didn’t you?"

You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight him on it. The truth was, you did enjoy the rush of it—the adrenaline, the roaring engines, the smell of burnt rubber. It was dangerous, reckless, but exciting. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see a certain someone again.

By the time you arrived, the crowd was already buzzing with energy. The night was electric, neon lights casting sharp glows against sleek, polished cars.

Mingi parked and led you toward the starting line, where the racers were getting into position. Your eyes flickered over to Yunho’s car—a sleek, fiery red beast that looked just as fast as it did dangerous.

He caught your gaze as he climbed into the driver’s seat, sending you a smirk before revving his engine.

You quickly looked away, ignoring the way your stomach flipped.

The race started, and just like that, they were off—tires screeching, metal groaning, speed blurring everything together.

And this time, Yunho took first place.

The moment he stepped out of his car, the crowd erupted, girls flocking toward him like moths to a flame.

You watched as they threw themselves at him—hands on his arms, fingers grazing his chest, sweet voices giggling in his ear. Yunho didn’t seem particularly interested, but he didn’t push them away either.

Not that it mattered to you.

You sipped your drink, looking completely unbothered.

Wooyoung, standing next to you, chuckled under his breath. "Cute act."

You frowned. "What act?"

Wooyoung smirked, leaning in. "The whole ‘I don’t care’ thing."

You shot him a glare, but he only laughed, shaking his head. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Before you could respond, Mingi clapped a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I was thinking," he started, grinning. "You and San would look good together."

You nearly choked on your drink. "What?"

Mingi turned to San, who had just walked up. "Don’t you think Y/N’s your type?"

San, always one to play along, grinned. "Oh? You tryna set us up, Mingi?"

"Why not?" Mingi shrugged. "She could use a guy like you."

You rolled your eyes, about to shut it down when you felt someone watching.

And when you turned your head, you met his gaze.

Yunho was staring—no, glaring.

His jaw was tight, his eyes dark as he watched the interaction unfold.

Then, without warning, he was walking straight toward Mingi.

"You know I’m interested in your sister," Yunho said, voice low but firm. "So why are you trying to push her toward San?"

Mingi blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Wait, what?"

Yunho stepped closer. "I’m not playing with her, Mingi. I want her."

Mingi scoffed. "You? The same Yunho who always has girls hanging off of him? You really expect me to believe that?"

Yunho didn’t back down. "I don’t care about them." His gaze flickered to you, intensity burning behind his eyes. "I care about her."

For a moment, Mingi just stared, his expression unreadable.

Then he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Damn it, Yunho." He exhaled sharply. "If you’re serious, prove it. ‘Cause I swear, if you mess with her—"

"I won’t," Yunho cut in, his voice unwavering. "I’ll show you."

You stood there, speechless, as the weight of his words settled in.

This wasn’t a game. Not to him.

And maybe… not to you either.

The tension from Yunho’s words still lingered in the air, but you weren’t about to entertain it.

Not now.

Not when you knew exactly how this story went.

Men like Yunho—possessive, intense, all-consuming—were dangerous.

So instead of addressing the weight of his words, you just huffed, forcing a smirk as you folded your arms.

"You care about me?" You raised an eyebrow, amusement lacing your tone. "That’s cute."

Yunho’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing slightly, but you just turned to Mingi with an exaggerated sigh. "I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m suddenly helpless, Min. I don’t belong to anyone."

San, sensing the tension, let out a whistle. "Damn, should I be offended?" He grinned playfully. "Feels like you just rejected me and Yunho at the same time."

You gave him a wink. "Oh, baby, I don’t reject anyone."

Wooyoung let out a sharp laugh, and Mingi groaned, rubbing his temples.

"You are so annoying," Mingi muttered. "Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when it blows up in your face."

But Yunho?

Yunho wasn’t laughing.

He was still watching you, still processing your words, that dark, unreadable look settling into his features again.

"Noted," he finally said, voice calm but heavy.

And the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

---

Later that night, your phone buzzed.

Yunho: You wanna act like this is a game? Fine.

Yunho: Let’s see how long you last.

You stared at the messages, heart skipping a beat.

Then, with a smirk, you typed back.

You: Challenge accepted, baby.

But what you didn’t realize…

Yunho wasn’t the type to lose.

---

The next few days felt like a silent war.

Yunho wasn’t the type to chase openly, but he was always there.

Whenever you turned around at the races, his eyes were already on you. Whenever you laughed a little too hard at something San said, he’d be right beside you—close, possessive, radiating heat like a warning.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you.

But you weren’t about to fold.

So you played along.

When another racer—some guy named Jisung—offered to take you for a ride in his car, you accepted with a smirk, knowing damn well Yunho was watching.

But the second you went to open the door, a firm hand caught your wrist.

"Not happening," Yunho muttered, voice low and final.

Jisung looked between you two, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "Uh—?"

Yunho didn’t even spare him a glance.

"I’ll take her home," he said.

Your lips curled, amusement flickering through your expression. "Oh? I don’t remember asking."

Yunho’s grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen either.

"You didn’t," he said. "But you will."

That struck something in you.

But before you could call him out on it, Mingi’s voice cut in.

"Bro, let her do what she wants," Mingi sighed, but he didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked like he expected this. "She’s not gonna listen anyway."

Yunho’s jaw ticked, and for a second, it seemed like he might argue.

But then he looked at you.

And you could feel the warning in his stare.

A promise. A threat.

This wasn’t over.

And somehow, you knew…

You would be asking him to take you home soon.

Even if you didn’t want to admit it yet.

The tension only got worse after that night.

You could feel it everywhere—every time Yunho was near, every time his gaze settled on you like a weight you couldn’t shake. He wasn’t the type to throw a fit or make a scene, but that only made it worse.

Because you knew Yunho wasn’t the type to lose.

And yet, you kept playing.

The next race came faster than expected. Mingi dragged you along as usual, talking about how tonight’s lineup was going to be intense. Apparently, some big-name racers from out of town had shown up to challenge Yunho and Seonghwa.

You weren’t really paying attention. Not until Yunho showed up.

Dressed in all black, his jaw tight, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

Something dark flashed across his face.

Then he smirked.

And just like that, the game was back on.

You pretended not to care, shifting your attention to San instead, laughing at whatever stupid joke he had just made. Mingi seemed pleased, clearly trying to push you closer to his friend, but you didn’t miss the way Wooyoung gave you that same knowing look.

"You’re really gonna keep playing with fire, huh?" Wooyoung muttered under his breath, just low enough for you to hear.

You just smirked, shrugging. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Wooyoung huffed a laugh. "Sure you don’t."

Then the race started.

And Yunho won.

It wasn’t even close. He cut through the track like he was born for it, weaving between cars like a shadow, his red car a blur against the night.

And when he crossed the finish line first, the crowd erupted.

You watched as girls swarmed him immediately, their hands all over him, their voices high and sweet. He let them. He even smiled, that cocky grin of his sharp as a knife.

You forced yourself to look away.

"You’re really unbothered, huh?"

Wooyoung’s voice was laced with amusement.

You rolled your eyes. "Why would I be bothered? Yunho’s got a lot of options. It’s not that deep."

Wooyoung just hummed, unconvinced. "You’re his next target, you know."

That made you freeze for half a second.

But you covered it up quickly, tilting your head. "Oh? That what he told you?"

Wooyoung just smirked. "Nah. He doesn’t have to."

You scoffed. "Yunho's got girls hanging off him every night. You think I’m dumb enough to take him seriously?"

"Maybe not," Wooyoung said, "but Yunho’s not like the others."

That made you pause.

But before you could ask what he meant, you caught sight of Yunho again.

Only this time, his attention wasn’t on the girls.

It was on you.

His smile was gone.

And the look in his eyes?

It wasn’t just playful anymore.

It was a warning.

The night seemed to drag on after that, with the races winding down and the crowd thinning out. You found yourself lingering near the edge of the lot, still pretending to be uninterested, chatting with San as he nudged you playfully. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of Yunho’s eyes on you.

He wasn’t among the group of girls anymore.

You hadn’t noticed when he slipped away from them, but now, as you stood there, a low growl of an engine hummed in the distance, and you knew. You knew it was him.

You turned, but before you could even take a step, Yunho was already standing in front of you, his presence like a force of nature.

"Hey," he said, his voice low, the playful edge replaced by something darker, something demanding.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back casually. "What’s up, Yunho?"

"I thought we had an understanding." He didn’t even waste time with pleasantries. His eyes searched yours, daring you to look away. "You’re not here to play games with me, are you?"

You tried to keep your cool, but something in the air was different now. It was thick with tension, and you could feel your heart picking up pace. "You’re the one playing games, Yunho. Last I checked, you were busy with those girls."

He took a step closer, his presence suddenly feeling overwhelming. His lips curled into that signature smirk, but his eyes weren’t playful anymore. "You really think I care about them?"

You didn’t answer, trying to keep your deflection up, but Yunho wasn’t having it. He took another step forward, cornering you against the side of a parked car. The intensity in his gaze was suffocating.

"You think I haven’t noticed what you’re doing?" he muttered, his voice rough, low—like a whisper just for you. "You keep pushing me away, keep acting like it’s just casual, but you know exactly what this is."

You swallowed hard, not able to bring yourself to look away from him. You couldn’t—he was pulling you in, inch by inch, like gravity.

"Is that so?" you asked, voice steady despite the tension coiling in your chest.

"Yeah." Yunho’s smile faded, replaced by something darker, possessive. "I’m not like the rest of those idiots who go after anyone and everything. But I’ve made my interest clear. So what is it, Y/N?"

You tried to step away, but he held you in place, not with force but with that unspoken* pressure, like the weight of his words was enough to keep you rooted where you were.

"I told you," you started, voice shaky despite your best efforts to sound confident, "I’m not looking for anything serious. Just something casual, nothing more."

Yunho’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but there was no humor in it—only something dangerous.

"Then why do you keep looking at me like that?" His hand moved slowly, brushing against your cheek, his touch burning. "Why do you keep pretending you don’t want me to want you?"

Your breath caught in your throat, heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. You could only feel the intensity of the air between you, thick with desire and challenge.

"You don’t have to do this, Yunho," you whispered, voice betraying you with the crack in it. "It’s never going to be more than this."

"Don’t lie to me," Yunho said, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re not fooling anyone."

He stepped closer, his chest brushing against yours, and you couldn’t escape him. His presence swallowed you whole.

"You want me," he whispered in your ear. "And I’m not letting you go until I have you. Loyalty."

The moment Yunho’s lips brushed against your ear, his touch sending a shock through your body, you knew there was no escaping it. His words were dangerous, thick with promise, and you could feel them vibrating in your chest. Your breath hitched, but before you could think of pulling away, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip.

"No more games," Yunho growled, voice low, controlled, but there was no mistaking the fire behind it. His hand tightened around you, practically dragging you towards his car before you could protest.

"Yunho—what the hell are you doing?" You tried to pull your arm back, but his grip was iron, and he didn’t even look at you, his focus completely on getting you into the car.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. You knew.

You tried to resist, but the instant the door slammed shut, you were trapped. Yunho’s eyes, dark and unwavering, met yours, and you could see that same dangerous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Without a word, he slammed the car into gear and sped off, the engine roaring as he pushed the car faster, harder, like he was trying to outrun the world.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of panic and something else—something dangerous that you couldn’t quite place. You wanted to argue, to keep pretending that you didn’t want this, that you weren’t drawn to him in a way that you couldn’t control.

But the heat of his touch on your wrist, the way he kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he drove, made it impossible to deny.

"You’re not even going to ask where we’re going?" Yunho asked, voice rough as he turned the wheel, pushing the car even faster. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his grip as possessive as the one he had on you just moments ago.

You tried to look away, acting like you didn’t care, but you knew he could see the way your breath caught in your throat. You knew he could feel the tension between you.

"I don’t care," you said, though it came out softer than you intended.

He smirked, his eyes flashing with something wild as he pushed the car even faster. "Good. Because you don’t need to care. I’m the one in control here, Y/N. You don’t get to decide how this plays out."

Your pulse quickened at his words, but you didn’t answer, instead crossing your arms and trying to hide the way your body betrayed you—how much you were feeling everything about this. The way his voice sent a shiver down your spine, the way he looked at you like he was just waiting for the right moment to take.

When you pulled up to his place, it was clear that he didn’t care who saw, didn’t care about anything but the two of you. He parked the car with precision, the engine cutting off as he reached over, grabbing your wrist again with that same firm grip, dragging you out of the seat and toward his door.

Before you could even process, you were inside, the door slamming behind you.

Yunho didn’t waste any time. He backed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours in an instant, trapping you between him and the door. His lips crashed against yours, hot and demanding, as if he’d been waiting for this moment, wanting it just as much as you.

His kiss was fierce, urgent, and he didn’t give you a chance to pull away, his hands exploring, touching, gripping you like you were his to claim. You could feel the heat building between you, an undeniable magnetism pulling you both closer, until you couldn’t tell where his body ended and yours began.

Yunho’s hand slid into your hair, gripping it with just enough force to tilt your head back, his lips trailing down your neck as he kissed his way down, leaving a path of burning skin in his wake. Your breath caught in your throat as he whispered against your skin.

"I told you, Y/N," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "I’m not letting you go."

You tried to keep up your front, to push him away, but his touch was addictive, and everything about him was pulling you in, making you forget what you even wanted. The game you’d been playing with him, the one where you pretended you didn’t care, didn’t stand a chance.

His lips found yours again, kissing you hard, deep, like he was determined to make you feel just how much he wanted this. And for once, you didn’t fight it.

Yunho was right—he was in control now, and you were his.

Yunho wasn’t wasting a second. His hands were everywhere—pulling you closer, one hand at the back of your head, pushing you into him, the other down to your waist, gripping you like he owned you.

You could feel the hardness of him against your body, and the way your pulse raced in response only made things worse. He smirked against your lips when he felt the shiver run through you.

"Don’t try to act like you don’t want this," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. "I don’t need to act. You’re the one who—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Yunho shoved you hard against the wall, his mouth crashing down on yours with a wild urgency. You gasped, but he didn’t care, his tongue slipping inside your mouth in a hot, desperate kiss. His hand slipped under your shirt, finding the bare skin of your stomach, rough fingers brushing against your ribs as he moved to pull it off.

You tried to keep your hands at his chest, to push him away, but he was relentless. The moment you tried to shove him off, he lifted you, spinning you around so your back was pressed against the cool, unforgiving wall.

"Stop fighting me, Y/N," Yunho warned, his voice deep and breathless.

But you couldn’t. Your body was already betraying you—your chest heaving, your breathing ragged.

He let out a frustrated growl, and with one swift move, he tore your shirt off, tossing it to the floor. His hands went straight for your pants, unbuttoning them quickly before pulling them down with no hesitation.

"Y/N," Yunho panted, lips trailing down your neck, "I can feel it, you want me just as bad." His lips found the sensitive spot right below your ear, sucking hard, sending a pulse of heat through your entire body. His hands moved between your legs, fingers brushing against the waistband of your panties.

"Yunho," you gasped, barely able to keep it together, your body on fire as his hands teased your skin, leaving marks wherever he touched. He didn’t give you a chance to react before he was kissing you again, harder this time, dominating your mouth as his hands found their way back to the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to join your pants.

The moment he heard the sound of fabric tearing, Yunho grinned, and that made you feel something dangerous crawl through your veins. He wasn’t asking for permission anymore. He was taking it.

"All mine," he muttered, voice rough and hoarse, fingers slipping inside you with barely any warning, stretching you wide.

You gasped, your body tensing up at the sudden intrusion, but Yunho didn’t care. He pulled you closer, his lips back on your neck as his fingers moved, fast, rough, precise—like he already knew exactly what you needed. His breath was hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear, "You wanted to keep things casual, but you’re mine now, Y/N."

You couldn’t even form words, too lost in the haze of heat and sensation. You grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your body responded to him in ways you couldn’t control. The pressure was building, your body betraying every word you said about keeping things casual.

"Say it," Yunho demanded, his voice a low growl. "Say you want me."

You could barely catch your breath, but when his fingers found that sweet spot inside you, you had no choice but to surrender.

"I want you," you gasped, your voice coming out ragged and desperate.

He smirked, pleased, and didn’t waste another second. He pulled his fingers out of you, taking off his own clothes, the sound of fabric hitting the floor sending a thrill through your body. Without saying another word, he lifted you up again, holding you effortlessly against the wall, lining himself up at your entrance.

"I told you," he growled, his lips brushing against yours one more time. "You don’t get to play games anymore."

And then, in one swift movement, Yunho was inside you, filling you completely, his pace brutal and fast from the start. Your nails dug into his back, and you couldn’t help but let out a sharp gasp at how good it felt.

Yunho didn’t slow down, his hands gripping your hips, pushing you harder against the wall, his body slamming into yours as if he was marking you, taking you in every way he could. His breath was heavy, his grunts and growls turning into something primal as he fucked you like he was the only one who could give you what you needed.

You couldn’t think anymore—only feel. Feel the way his cock moved in and out of you, the way your body tensed with every thrust, the way his hands gripped you with enough force to leave bruises. You were his now, and the realization hit you like a wave, making everything inside you spiral.

"Fuck, Yunho!" you cried out, the pressure building, your body starting to shake as you neared the edge.

"Yeah, baby, that’s it," Yunho hissed, his pace relentless, pushing you closer to the edge. "Cum for me, Y/N. Let me see how much you need me."

And with that, you shattered.

Your body trembled, your nails scratching down his back as you came undone, screaming his name as pleasure coursed through you in waves. Yunho wasn’t far behind, his thrusts growing sloppier as he finally found his release, his breath ragged in your ear as he came inside you with a growl.

He didn’t let you down, not even when you were both left panting, bodies tangled together in the aftermath.

“You’re mine now,” Yunho murmured against your skin, his hand still gripping your waist as you tried to catch your breath.

You knew it wasn’t over. He wasn’t going to let you go. And deep down, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

Yunho’s breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling against yours, as you both caught your breath. The weight of what just happened settled in, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. He pulled out gently, keeping you in his arms as he guided you to the couch nearby.

You felt a little shaky, but Yunho was steady as always, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He helped you get comfortable, pulling a blanket over your body, still keeping you close to him. His hands were soft now as they traced over your skin, the tenderness a stark contrast to the roughness of moments ago.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quieter now, but still laced with concern.

You nodded, still processing everything that just happened. “Yeah... I’m good.”

Yunho’s fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he looked at you, his gaze serious but gentle. "I didn’t mean to rush you, Y/N. I just... I couldn’t hold back anymore. You’ve been driving me crazy, and I needed to know where we stood."

You swallowed, shifting slightly to face him, your hand finding his. "You... really want this?" You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to face the truth, but you needed to know. “I thought you just wanted to keep things casual like me.”

His jaw clenched at that, and he exhaled slowly. “I won’t lie to you, Y/N. At first, I thought I could keep it casual too. But when it’s you? I can’t. I won’t.” His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, his eyes softening. “You’ve been acting like you want to keep your distance, but I know you feel it too. You feel what I feel, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you just stared at him, taking in his words. He wasn’t looking at you with anger or impatience, just a deep intensity. “Why me, Yunho?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “There are so many other girls, you know. Why do you want me?”

Yunho’s hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His touch was warm, tender, like he was trying to soothe the doubt in your mind. "Because I don’t want anyone else," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "You think I don’t see how you push me away? How you try to keep it light, like you’re not affected by all this? But I see through that. I see how you’re always right there when I need you, how you look at me when you think I don’t notice."

You felt your heart race, the warmth of his words sinking in. “But I’ve been trying to keep it casual... I don’t know how to let go of that fear, Yunho.”

He leaned in, forehead resting against yours, his voice low and raw. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not like the others. I’ll show you. If you let me, I’ll prove it to you every damn day.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. It was hard to believe after all the heartache you’d been through, but with Yunho, it felt different. He made you feel seen.

"How can you be so sure?" you asked quietly, your voice barely audible. “How do you know I won’t just run again?”

Yunho sighed, pressing his lips against your forehead, the gesture so soft it almost made your heart ache. “Because I’m not giving you a choice,” he murmured. “I’ll fight for you. I’ll make you see that what we have is real. You won’t have to run. Not from me.”

His words made something inside you click. Maybe you didn’t have all the answers. Maybe you weren’t sure how to take that leap just yet. But with him, there was no more pretending, no more games. It wasn’t just the heat and the mess that made it real. It was how he cared—even when you pushed him away.

You took a deep breath, turning your face into his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your ear. “I don’t know what this is yet,” you whispered, “but I’m not going anywhere either, Yunho.”

And in that moment, the uncertainty didn’t feel so scary. You could trust him. He wasn’t going to let you go.

The night stretched on, quiet now, save for the soft hum of the city beyond the windows. You stayed nestled in Yunho’s arms, his warmth surrounding you like a protective shield. He didn’t try to rush anything, simply content to let the silence speak for the both of you. His hand gently played with your hair, the softest of touches, as if he was savoring every moment.

You felt the weight of the world lift, just for a moment, like everything outside of this room didn’t matter. It was just you and him, and that was enough for now.

Yunho kissed the top of your head, his voice gentle when he spoke again. “You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to keep pretending. I’m here. For real.”

Your fingers curled around his, squeezing lightly, feeling the truth of his words sink in. You didn’t have to have all the answers tonight, or even tomorrow. For once, you didn’t need to figure everything out. All you needed to do was trust him.

And, for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could.

[snowsinterlude]

Remember The Time.

(coriolanus snow x reader)

summary: there was a time where that boy craved and wanted love more than power. and you remembered it better than he did.

c.w: songfic, young president snow, angst, wife!reader, mentions to academy times, mentions to sex, cheating, pregnancy

back when you both were seventeen, back when he was poorer than the district people, who were rich when it comes to love, coriolanus had one person who was always there for him; you.

beautiful, dazzling, shining you. with your shining eyes, your perfume, your way of walking and talking and going as far as to making him fall in love with you. yes, the now president of panem, who was colder than the own snow, who always landed on top, who never looked up to anyone, was once a time ago, a boy. an innocent, craving love boy.

when we were young and innocent.

he got your hand tangled on his, his eyes gleaming and shining at the sight of your much smaller hand on his. he was so cute there. everything seemed to be sugar coated and honeyed up; the hand-made gifts, the flowers he handed you, the way he played with your hair and braided it oh so nicely.

everything was a memory now. nothing but something that you'd remember until you had something like amnesia or alzheimer when you were older.

"y/n!" he called, walking to your direction. athletically skinny, tall, blonde. the perfect depiction of a pretty boy.

he reached for you, his hand reaching for yours, his lips curling into a smile to you, his eyes couldn't seem to leave you, your eyes, your figure, everything in you was like a diamond for him.

carefully, he placed a daisy flower behind your ear, trying to get it right, trying to put it in the right position.

"coryo," you smiled at him, so sweetly that he thought he would lose his teeth. he thanked god he didn’t. "how have you been?"

"fine. better now. saw this flower yesterday, it reminded me of you." he said, fingers laced on yours.

he was too sweet when he was with you. sweet like white chocolate, one only you could taste, for when it comes to others he was as venomous as a snake.

🌼

rotting in your room, you heard the window; a rock being thrown in it. you opened the quicker you could- you just had to yell for that person to stop throwing rock at your window. they are expensive.

you were met with his eyes. looking at you as if you were a jewel. staring back at you as if there's nothing prettier than you in a nightdress or you on a general basis

you quickly forgot the face you were doing; the one that showed displeasure now showed love, something you had in stock for him.

"coryo." you said, seeing him climbing to your window. he leaned in it.

"is ir a bad timing?" he asked, and you couldn't have a better answer for it than a roll of your eyes.

"of course! gosh, it's snowing out there-"

"i'm a snow."

"you're an human being." you said, helping him in and closing the door to your room. your dad thought of coriolanus as the one who would lead you down the wrong path. he seemed to feel it in his bones, saying he looks poor or anything like it. "you should be at your house! what would i do if you get a cold?"

his hands travelled to your waist, a devious grin played on his lips as he kissed your shoulder.

"warm me up?" he proposed, making you chuckle, but then you were on his lap, kissing him in a way that would keep him warm for days and days, fucking him until his body was as hot as the summer, loving him until flowers blossomed and died.

you did, in fact, warmed him up. so many times that it would be a joke to say that he was cold- physically, at least.

with that being said, it was a surprise to you when he came back from district 12- he had changed. he had another girl's perfume on him.

then you remembered her. you met her once. lucy gray baird. of course, neither did you and neither did coriolanus told her you were engaged.

engaged. such a strong word- and at the same time, weak when it comes to flesh.

back in the spring.

"you cheated on me." you said, trying to keep yourself calm- you couldn't. your heart was too loud, your poor lungs didn't seem to be functioning anymore- everything seemed loud to you. "with her. with lucy- god, and she didn't even knew! where is she?!"

"i don't- y/n, listen, i-"

"-'i' what? you didn't cheat? you weren't with her? you were supposed to be at district 8! how come you were on 12?!"

he kept quiet. he didn’t had an answer other than 'i didn’t cheat', did he? of course not.

"i love you," he said. "i love you, y/n."

"you don't. you never did. you don't know what love feels like- you don't know how it is." he did. he did know how it was and felt. each thump of his heart was beating out of his ribcage with the despair of losing you.

with that being clear, it didn't took much time for him to be president.

soon enough, you both were married.

🌼

it's not like you forgave him. you didn't. your father married you off to him after he won the elections. did you love him? god, of course you did. but not like before. never like before. you still had hope that he would be there. that your lovely boy would still be there, bouquet in his hand, hands finding yours in the secrecy of the darkest places of the academy; but that boy wasn't anywhere to be found.

instead, there was a man, a ruthless, cruel, cold-hearted man who never looked up to anyone. who never looked directly into your eyes, but past them.

sitting by his side, cutting the steak on your plate, everything was just as silent as in a funeral until you spoke, finally.

"coriolanus." you called. "do you remember the time we fell in love?"

quiet.

you kept going. "we would be together all times, talking about how highbottom hated you. we would skip classes saying we were sick when we would actually hang out."

he kept quiet.

"you would come to my window at least three times per month, always promising things and handing me flowers." you said.

quiet, quiet, quiet. quiet. you decided to be more straightforward this time.

"then we would warm ourselves up. you would fuck me and ask for my hand in marriage and say you would make me the happiest woman alive." you said.

"what do you want?" he asked, finally.

"i'm pregnant." you hear his fork fall to his plate. "i know you don't love me and i am not going to beg for your love. but i want to raise this child with love. and if we'll have to pretend we like eachother and love eachother then i am okay with it."

he kept quiet, again. and you kept going, without knowing about the ache of his heart; both of happiness and mourn. mourn, because he knew you didn't love him anymore. he knew that if it wasn't for the baby forming on your body you would run away from him.

"i don't want this child to be depressed nor to have the knowledge of how we don't like eachother." you said. "i want this child to be happy."

he was almost gagging. your eyes were pooling up on tears you didn't want to cry, your voice cracking up.

"okay." he said. there was not a better answer for that than this.

when dinner was over, you both went separate ways; he would go to his office, you would go to your chambers.

no one would know about the heartbreak of the other.

no one would hear nor see the tears rolling down your faces; the redness, the runny nose, the sobs. they would never be heard.

and everything between both that was once a happy memory, was nothing but a photo in your memories. a happy painting portraying a couple that was yet to be separated.

[jointherebellion215]

Flowers

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: You're living a perfectly content life on Geidi Prime with your husband. It's a shame your mind can't rest, sparked by glimpses of a life unknown. Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: Dark!Feyd-Rautha, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, yandere!Feyd-Rautha, manipulation, gaslighting, like SO much gaslighting holy shit, descriptions of violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, isolation, tragedy, nonconsensual drug use, nonconsensual medical treatement, induced memory loss, amnesia, dubious consent, pregnancy, songfic, happy-but-not-really-happy ending, I know I said female!reader but there's virtually no pronoun usage or descriptive words in thisfor the reader besides titles so maybe GN!reader??

A/N: I'm blown away, almost 500 notes on His Kiss, the Riot? Holy shit, all of the thanks! Here it is, the final part! I'm ending it with the song that actually started this whole idea. Listening to Eva's interpretation of Eurydice singing Flowers gave me the most delicious, fucked-up bit of inspiration and this came out. I was clutching my own metaphorical pearls writing this cause damn, this gets dark. Like, way more than I thought I could write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of this twisted tale. Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate you taking the time to like, comment, and reblog.

Read Part One and Part Two

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

“You won’t feel a thing,” he said, “when you go down”

Nothing gonna wake you now

Drops of blood. 

A wicked, black smile.

“You won’t feel a thing.” 

You wake up with a gasp. Your doctor had warned you about dreams like this. They weren’t real, just an aftereffect of your accident.

The medical staff for House Harkonnen had been gracious enough to inform you of your predicament. When your family had recently hosted the Harkonnens, you quickly met and fell deeply in love with the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. Your love for each other was so intense that you had demanded to get married right away. Your father disapproved of the union, so he disowned you and banished you, demanding to never see you again.

On the journey back to Geidi Prime, a stray asteroid hit the ship and caused you to hit your head. Feyd had apparently worried for your life, which saddened you and warmed your heart. It was nice to know that someone truly cared for you. However, your mind wasn’t quite the same afterwards. Your life before Geidi Prime was completely unknown to you. Your memories were in a fragile state.

That was just a few months earlier. Unfortunately, your mind has not yet recovered your memories prior to the accident. You were diligently taking a specially brewed tea that would calm your mind so it wouldn’t fracture under the immense pressure to try and fix itself. When you asked how long it would take for you to recover, your heart cracked when they said that it may take the rest of your natural life.

While it broke your heart to hear of your father’s dismissal of your feelings, you believed that you were strong enough to carry on. Having no further ties to your home world made it better to settle in with your new family.

You are a Harkonnen now.

Now, your footsteps make the quietest of echoes as you traipse down the narrow corridor. Heads of nearby servants and slaves bow, and eyes snap to the floor as you pass by. You feel the barest of sympathies, for not being allowed the simplest of human connection with their na-Baronness. But it was paradise considering the consequences should anyone ever feel bold enough to try otherwise.

Your husband wouldn’t allow that.

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

Men are kind, until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart

“Can I not have a single friend on this planet?!”

You burst into your shared chambers, rage rushing through your veins. All you had wanted was to have lunch and tea with one of the few female palace advisors you had taken a liking to. Maybe share a laugh or a story. Make a connection outside of your new family. That was all ruined when Feyd barged in and gutted your companion, stomach-to-throat, while she sat in her chair.

You were sure that your shoes had trailed blood down the hallway, but your mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

“What use would you have for friends? I am right here.” He closed in on you, grasping your arms and forcing you to look in his direction. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not give you everything you should ever desire?”

His hands tighten around your wrists, making you flinch. A stray tear falls from your eyes, guilt starts to overcome your anger.

“No, not at all, husband! You have given me everything I could have wished for and more,” You wrench your hands out of his grip and grasp his face. He showered you with gifts, never let you go hungry or thirsty and this is how you repay him? “I just… I didn’t think you would want to hear me talk about certain things. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know you don’t, my darling.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the tension in the room start to settle.

“Your mind is already fragile from the accident… I just want to keep you safe.”

Safe. That was the key here. He takes step back and retrieves a small dagger from his belt.

Feyd holds it up, showing you the weapon. “Did you know that your friend had a blade dipped in poison strapped onto her person?”

You can feel the blood rushing from your face. No. You didn’t know.

“I-I didn’t see a knife on her. She couldn’t have-“

“She did.”

He drops the blade and leans in closer to you, forehead aligning with yours. “There are people out there who seek to harm you, who seek to harm me through you. I can never let that happen.”

You nod furiously. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid. 

Trust is unbelievably hard to come by in the Galactic Imperium. Your few months’ worth of memories can even attest to that. It seems that the only people you can truly rely on is family.

“I only want what’s best for you.”

You understand now.

Is anybody listening?

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Another argument discussion had emerged from your telling of your latest dream. Your husband was convinced that you were entirely too exhausted to put any stock into what your subconscious was telling you, but you thought otherwise.

Fingers run through a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

“I swear to you, it felt so real! It was almost like a memory, like something I-,” A firm hand is placed on your shoulder as you give a slight stumble. Feyd puts a hand on your back, leading you to the edge of your bed, setting you on the bench that was placed against the footboard.

“Please, have some of your morning tea, my darling. You look a bit peaked.” You accepted the cup he gave you, settling down and taking a few sips of the warm, spiced drink. Your mind instantly calms, anxieties evaporating from your body like puffs of smoke. Never mind the memories that you had just… Floating.

Your husband is now on one knee in front of you, arms encasing your body, as his hands cup your face. He brings your eyes to meet his, seemingly searching. For what? You do not know.

“What were you saying about this dream of yours?” A pause reverberates throughout the room as your head tilts in confusion.

“My…?” You stutter, mouth opening to complete a thought that was no longer entirely there. “I can’t quite remember. What were we talking about?”

Your husband gives a smirk, analyzing your face once more before placing his hand on the dark fabric covering your swollen belly.

“Nothing of import. It seems that my heir is set on scrambling your thoughts.”

There seemed to be nothing in this world that brought more joy to Feyd-Rautha’s face than the sight of you and his unborn child. He’s more protective of you now than ever, having guards always posted near you, having you wear a shield during all public appearances. Not to mention, he was damn near insatiable in private. His hands and mouth are practically dragged away from you and your growing stomach every morning.

You give a chuckle. “I’d heard about pregnancy brain before, but never knew it to be this taxing! Perhaps I’ll take a walk later if I’m feeling up to it.”

Feyd gives your cheek a soft pat before rising to his feet, “Rest, my darling. I shall check in on the both of you later.” His hand rests next to yours, giving your belly a quick rub before he walks towards the door.

Your head goes to set on your pillow, the warmth from the tea running through your body. You must be really tired, since you fall asleep so quickly.

Quick enough to not hear the deadbolt lock clicking from the outside once the door is closed.

Flowers, I remember field of flowers

Soft beneath my heels

Walking in the sun, I remember someone

Someone by my side, turned his face to mine

The dreams start to encroach your mind while you are awake. You continue to follow your doctor’s instructions: take your daily tea, rest often, don’t overexert your body or your mind. But, ever persistent, they push through, finding parallels with your daily life to latch onto.

A hand, gently enlaced with yours, guides you through a meadow—

You husband’s hands lead you to stand with him by his uncle’s side, preparing for another ceremony.

A laugh, familiar and warm—

A chilling cackle of laughter reaches you in your viewing box, watching your husband gleefully slay another adversary in the arena.

Bright, yellow sunlight caressing your face and neck—

The black sun of Geidi Prime pulses in your periphery as you wave to a crowd below, your husband standing stoically next to you.

A kiss, given freely—

Feyd ravishes you in your chambers, lips melding together with yours.

My darling—

My love—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

“Is everything alright, my darling?”

You blink, snapping back to the present. Pale, smooth skin and blue eyes, your husband extends his hand towards you. Safe. He gives you everything. You and your child will never struggle or suffer with him. You are safe with him. Aren’t you?

Blood splatters over a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

You give a bright smile.

If you ever walk this way

Come and find me lying in the bed I made

[shardsofmarxx]

Sleep Well | Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Criminal Minds songfic based on/inspired by the song Sleep Well by d4ad. Angst/fluff

Summary: After having an argument with Spencer, you storm to your hotel for the night so you can get some sleep and take your mind off the argument, but you end up having a bad nightmare and you don’t know who else to call… (Told from reader's POV)

Warnings: Nightmares, violence, argument, general CM themes. (Nothing too graphic.)

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: My first fic!!! I'm so excited to start sharing my writing with you guys, and I really hope you all enjoy this fic! I'm planning on making songfics a regular thing on my blog, so feel free to request any songs you'd like me to write about in my ask box! (As well as any other things you'd like me to write about.)

As you were putting on your bulletproof vest in the conference room, you heard someone open the door. You looked over to see Spencer glaring over at you, his bulletproof vest already on.

“What are you doing?” he asked in an accusatory manner, clearly bothered by something. 

You paused for a few moments, confused and taken aback by his tone. “I’m getting ready to head out with the rest of the team. Is something wrong?”

“What's wrong is that you're getting ready to go to the field when you know you're not supposed to.” 

You let out a small sigh, realizing what this was about. Technically, he was right; you weren't allowed to be back in the field for another few days due to the ear injuries you sustained when a bomb went off a little too close for comfort during one of the BAU’s cases about a month ago. However, you were very careful in your day-to-day life, and the doctor said you were making rapid progress in terms of your healing.

“Spence, I only have a handful of days left, and considering the kind of unsub we're dealing with, I'm sure it's fine.” You paused for a few moments before continuing. “Plus, I have earplugs,” you said while turning your head in both directions so he could see them. Unfortunately, he still wasn't convinced.

“It doesn't matter, Y/N; you haven't been cleared by a doctor yet, so you can't go out into the field. You should just focus your attention here,” he said while pointing at all the photos and paperwork sprawled around us in the conference room. “You should look it over; there might’ve been something we missed.”

You raised your eyebrows at him and let out a snort. “That's the best excuse you have, Spence? I appreciate the concern, but I'm going. This unsub is highly dangerous, and we need all the help we can get.”

"No, you're not,” he replied sternly.

“Who died and made you Unit Chief?” you scoffed, feeling your annoyance growing. “I'm going with you guys, whether you like it or not. I'm a grown woman, and I can handle myself just fine.

Although Spencer had a tendency to be stubborn, his behavior right now was foreign. You began walking toward the door, and just as you were about to grip the doorknob, you felt Spencer’s firm grasp wrap around your wrist. You looked over to see him staring at you coldly.

“Y/N, you're not going. I can't let you put yourself in danger.”

You suddenly felt your blood boil. Who did he think he was to act like this? To grab you and order you around? Treat you like you didn't know how to take care of yourself? 

You snatched your wrist away and quickly turned to face him. "Actually, Reid, I'm going to go wherever I please, seeing as you have no authority over me whatsoever.” You were silent for a few moments until the perfect remark suddenly came to mind. “Somebody obviously needs to work on respecting boundaries,” you said slyly, opening up the door to leave, but he spoke up, stopping you in your tracks once more.

"Well, somebody obviously needs to work on following orders,” he muttered.

That was it. Your annoyance and anger finally bubbled over, and you lost it. You both began going back and forth, snapping snarky remarks at one another with no mercy whatsoever, your words piercing each other like knives. 

“You just can't put aside your fucking stubbornness for the good of the team, can you, Reid?”

You could tell that those words hit him hard because from one moment to the next, his whole demeanor changed. “I can't put aside my stubbornness?” He said quietly, breathing shakily as he did. 

He spoke up once more, this time at a much louder volume. “You're the one who can't put aside your stubbornness, Y/N! You can't admit the fact that you're not currently fit to do your job, and your stupidity is putting yourself and the entire team at risk!”

You begin to open your mouth, ready to retort, but he cuts you off. “Face it, Y/N, you're weak!” He was practically screaming at this point, the veins in his neck sticking out as they pulsed rapidly. Suddenly all you heard was a sharp ringing, and you fell to the floor, tightly clutching your ears in an attempt to make it stop. As if on cue, Derek ran in to diffuse the situation. 

Caught up in his anger, Spencer spoke again, still yelling. “See?! This is what I'm talking about. If you can't handle me raising my voice, how are you going to go in the-”

“Reid!” Derek yelled, your whole body wincing as he did. 

“Give it a rest; can't you see she's in pain?” He said harshly, turning his attention back to you immediately. He helped you stand up, and you quietly thanked him before turning to Reid.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you said softly as you removed your bulletproof vest. “Good luck out there, Dr. Reid.” Your tone was full of dejection and defeat as you placed the vest on the table. You didn't even bother looking at him or Derek as you walked out of the conference room, through the bullpen, and out of the precinct.

You ended up walking outside for a while before deciding to actually head to the hotel. The night air soothed your soul and brought you comfort as you wandered the streets aimlessly. However, you knew you couldn't stay out there forever, no matter how much you wanted to.

When you walked into your hotel room, you placed your stuff down on a small lounge chair and flopped onto your bed, letting out a large sigh. You remembered you had turned your phone off once you walked out of the precinct since you desperately needed space, so you grabbed it out of your bag and turned it back on just to make sure you hadn’t missed anything important. 

You had a few missed calls from Derek and Garcia, along with a text from Hotch.

“Take the night off. We'll talk first thing tomorrow morning.”

You let out a groan, knowing what that message entailed. You decided to shower before heading to bed, hoping the water would cleanse you of what you were feeling.

You step into the shower and are welcomed by warm water, instantly feeling at ease as it falls on your cool skin. Unfortunately, the feeling doesn't last long as your mind wanders back to the argument. You didn't understand why Spencer was so frustrated, so stubborn, and so mean to you. His words continued to echo in your head, and you eventually broke down, bawling your eyes out from the sheer pain you felt inside. The fact that he called you weak shattered your heart into a million tiny pieces. You guys had been close friends for years, and that's what he thought of you? Really? You felt stupid and betrayed, especially because you've had a huge crush on him for years now. All that love, care, and admiration felt like it amounted to nothing now.

Wanting to just put this awful night to end, you turned off the shower and continued getting ready for bed. You grabbed your pajamas out of your go-bag and lazily went through the rest of your nighttime routine. You then walked out of the bathroom and dropped on the bed in defeat, falling asleep as soon as you slipped under the covers.

You and Spencer walked quietly through the dark warehouse, the cool, eerie air causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. You scanned the hallway with your flashlights and guns in hand, only to be met with nothing in each room you had checked. You reached the end of the hallway and slowly moved your hand over to twist the doorknob before you heard Spencer yell from the room behind you.

“Y/N!!! Hel-!”

You raced to him only to find the unsub holding him at gunpoint. Spencer had a few cuts on his face, probably from being pistol whipped.

“Drop the gun right now, or I will shoot,” you said sternly, aiming your pistol right at his head.

“Ah, not quite! Place your weapon over on that table, or your lovely partner here gets a bullet to the brain,” he spoke, motioning his gun over to the small wooden table to your left. Having no other choice, you walked over and placed your gun on the table, turning back around to face the unsub.

“Good girl! Now, allow me to take care of one small thing before we begin,” he said, directing his attention to Spencer. He hit Spencer over the head with his gun, using as much force as he could muster. Spencer immediately dropped to the floor, and you screamed.

“Shhh, don't fret, darling; now the real fun can begin,” he said as he slowly walked over to you. His ominous tone sent chills down your spine. 

“You see, the only reason any of this happened..." He paused for a few moments, looking you dead in the eyes as he said his next words, “is because you're weak.” Immediately, he swung his gun across your face, causing you to fall to the floor. He began kicking you, yelling at you as each kick landed.

“You're” kick “just” kick “a weak” kick “bitch.”

Your whole body writhed in pain, praying one of your teammates would come to rescue you and Spencer. As the unsub continued, all you could do was look at Spencer and feel flooded with guilt. 

After what seemed like forever, the unsub brought the beatings to a halt and proceeded to walk back over to Spencer.

“And now, the grand finale!”

You used all your force to croak out a small “no” as you watched him stand behind Spencer and inch the gun towards his head, preparing to shoot him. He cocked the gun and then turned to face you.

“Remember, this is all happening because you're a weak FBI agent who couldn't do her job,” he said coldly. “The only reason I'm keeping you alive is so that you can watch this and know that it's nobody's fault but yours. Your weakness is to blame, and your consequence is to live with the guilt of your mistakes.” You watched him bring the gun to Spencer’s head and pull the trigger as you wailed. 

Suddenly, you were back in the hotel room, your clothes soaked with sweat. You were shaking like a leaf and rapidly hyperventilating, feeling like your heart was going to burst out of your chest from how hard and fast it was beating. 

You instinctively reached for your phone and called Spencer, your heart rate increasing each time the phone rang.

Suddenly, it stopped.

“Hey Y/N.”

As his words echoed through your head, you felt a sense of both relief and dread. You realized that you had just had a terrible nightmare and that Spencer was completely fine. However, you were also immediately reminded of the argument you had with him earlier and suddenly froze. 

“Y/N? Are you there?” Spencer spoke once more, only to be met by silence.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

Not knowing what to do, you hung up the phone and threw it across the room, sinking back into the covers almost immediately. You couldn't believe that this night had somehow managed to get worse. You wanted to scream as you felt the tears creep up behind your eyes, feeling absolutely helpless and worthless.

You felt weak, just like Spencer said you were.

You let out soft sobs into your pillow, not knowing what else to do with all the emotional turmoil stewing inside you. You thought about calling Garcia or Derek, but quickly realized they'd be either working or asleep, and bothering them was the last thing you wanted to do right now. You continued to cry, hoping you'd tire yourself out and eventually fall asleep between sobs. 

Surprisingly, you actually ended up falling asleep, but it didn't last long. You were suddenly awoken by a series of knocks on your door, the noise causing you to sit up in bed. You sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the door and wondering if you had just imagined the noise. You knew you were wrong when you heard a few more knocks, along with Spencer’s soft voice.

“Y/N?” knock. knock. knock. “Please let me in; I want to talk.”

You were in shock. Why was he at your hotel room so late at night? You felt your heart race and your body shake as you tried to figure out what to do. You knew you two had to talk at some point, and you did really miss him, but you didn't want him to see you. Not like this. Your eyes were red, puffy, and swollen from all the crying; your hair was messy; and you were wearing an old baggy t-shirt and shorts. 

Basically, you looked like crap.

Despite all this, you knew you had to let him in. You reluctantly got out of bed and approached the door, twisting the handle and slowly opening the door to meet Spencer’s eyes.

He quickly rushed into the room, his urgency taking you by surprise. Once he was inside and had put his stuff down, he began examining every inch of you with an intense, worried gaze. He could tell you were in pain, and the worst part was that he knew it was his fault. 

"Reid,” you croaked, clearing your throat before continuing your sentence. “What are you doing here?”

He began fidgeting with his fingers, thinking of a reply. He looked so meek compared to the argument earlier.

“You called a little while ago,” he said softly. “I spoke multiple times, and you never said a word. I had tried calling you afterwards, and you wouldn't answer.” His eyes met mine. “I was worried about you.”

“Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine, so you can leave now.”

“Y/N, please-” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“Reid, it's late. You need to leave” you said sternly, swallowing your tears as you practically pushed him toward the door.

Before you could open the door, you felt him wrap his arms around you, causing you to freeze. He began to speak, practically whispering in your ear.

“Y/N, please. I can tell you're not okay, and I know I'm to blame. Let me make it right, please."

Maybe it was how distraught and desperate he sounded as he spoke, or maybe it was because you were finally in his warm embrace after missing him for so long, but you couldn’t hold back your tears any longer. Spencer just held you as you cried softly, trying to comfort you any way he could while he waited for you to calm down.

“Can we go to the bed, please?” you requested softly.

Spencer gave you a small nod with a weak smile. “Of course, Y/N.”

You walked over and laid down on the bed, shifting your body away from the edge of the bed and then patting your hand down on the empty space, urging Spencer to follow suit. He took off his shoes and gently laid down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you placed your head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothed you as you listened to its echo in his chest. 

“So why did you end up calling tonight?” He asked softly, running his hands through your hair as he spoke.

You took a deep breath before answering, doing your best to maintain your composure, or whatever you had left of it.

“I, um, had a nightmare. We were on a case and…” Your voice trailed as the nightmare flooded your thoughts. “It was a bad one. I had to make sure you were okay, so I called you as soon as I had woken up. Once I heard your voice, I was reminded of our argument from earlier and realized I just had a nightmare, and I froze.”

You then explained the entire nightmare in detail, a few tears escaping your eyes as that horrid scene replayed in your head. Spencer just listened the whole time as he held you, stroking your hair or holding you a little tighter at times while you spoke.

Once you finished, he opened his mouth to speak. “Y/N… I'm so sorry. I never wanted to argue with you; I just couldn’t handle the thought of you getting hurt again, and I snapped.” His voice was shaky as he spoke. 

“I thought I had lost you in the bombing, and I couldn't let you get hurt again, not if I could do something about it. I care about you too much to let you get hurt again.” He paused for a few moments before continuing. "But I spiraled, and I was wrong. I ended up hurting you anyway.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he began talking again before you could even get a syllable out.

“You're not weak; you're one of the strongest people I know. You're strong, brave, and courageous, and I admire you so much.” His voice began to choke. “I never wanted you to think you're weak because you're so far from it. I'm so, so sorry."

Now, you were both crying in each other's arms, holding each other tightly as you each whispered words of comfort into the other’s ear in between your sobs. At one point, you both coincidentally lifted your heads up and locked eyes with each other, causing both of you to laugh at how much of a wreck both of you looked.

“We look like shit,” you said, catching your breath from that sudden fit of laughter. 

“Yeah, we sure do.”

Spencer’s gaze suddenly changed, and he had a similar look of sadness from earlier as he spoke his next words. “Well, I should probably get going, shouldn’t I?” He got up, but you reached for his wrist before he could go too far.

“Um, this is probably wildly unprofessional and all, but could you spend the night with me, Spence?” You could feel the blush on your face burn your skin as you waited for his response. 

“Of course, Y/N. I’d love to stay the night,” he replied warmly, bringing a smile to your face.

You both went into the bathroom and got yourselves cleaned up. Spencer changed into his pajamas and quickly joined you in bed. He laid down and wrapped his arms around your waist, tucking his head into your shoulder, right by your ear. Just as you were dozing off, you heard him murmur something into your ear.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You suddenly felt your whole body get hot and instantly turned around, wondering if you were just hearing things.

“What did you say, Spencer?”

“I said I love you. I love you and care about you so much, and from now on, I’m going to spend every second of every day loving you, no matter what.” He planted a small kiss on your forehead after he spoke, pulling you into his chest and wrapping you tightly in his long arms. He felt so warm, so comfortable, and so right. You felt like you could just melt into his arms and become a part of him. You knew you belonged in his arms. 

“I love you too, Spencer. Sleep well,” you whispered softly, nuzzling your head deeper into his chest before finally drifting off to sleep.

Thanks so much for reading!

[hhoneyhams]

I Despise You - Chilchuck/F!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Features: Jealous Chilchuck, Fighter class Reader, size differences, and workplace crushes.

Warnings: Entirely SFW with some slight language :^)

The reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and descriptors, wears a dress in the fic, is a tall-man, and fighter within the party. There are no real specifics for appearance other than that.

Songfic based on "Daft Pretty Boys" by Bad Suns

Author's Note: This is my first time writing fanfiction for others to lay their eyes on in a very, very long time. I've had a blast writing this for the last few days and I'm excited to write more for Chilchuck and Dungeon Meshi!

The dwindling embers of the camp’s fire lit the dungeon with a warm, orange glow. A sense of electric excitement had infected the late-night conversation amongst the party members, some chattering excitedly about their plans for the next few days on the surface and others silently planning their next moves. 

“Laios and Falin are planning on heading up to go take care of some business, but I think I’m ready for some pleasure!” you laugh out, taking the last swig of the drink in your glass. You set it down with an aggressive click, the sound jerking Chilchuck from his reverie beside you. The two of you had grown rather close over your shared drinking habits, often staying up into the wee hours drinking and chatting amongst yourselves. 

Chilchuck furrows his brow at you and scowls slightly.

“You can keep that to yourself,” he scoffs, turning back to the meager portion of food he had been chasing around his plate for a while. 

“Wellllll…you of all people should know there’s no greater pleasure than a cold drink and some hot, greasy, fried food,” you relent. Chilchuck’s stomach growls and he groans. “Other pleasures usually follow~”

“Like being chained to the toilet and dealing with your needy, drunk ass all night?” he questions, brushing off the last comment with a sense of disgust. Your nose wrinkles in response.

“Well, hopefully not at the same time!” This causes him to snort out a semblance of a dry laugh. 

“I’m hoping we’ll wind up at different taverns anyway, I need a break from all of you,” the rogue raises his gloved hand to gesture around the room. Just as you start to jokingly pout at him, he points straight at you. “Especially you.”

Despite the two of you growing close after drinking together, he’s become exponentially rude towards you. You find it a bit confusing and heartbreaking at times but understand that it’s not like him to get personal with party members. 

“Jeez, ‘Chuck, tell me how you really feel,”  

—

The party disbanded early that morning. You and Namari pair off together to explore the town as the Toudens take care of their prior engagements. The two of you regard Chilchuck warmly, but don’t bother to invite him along.

Instead, he went into town to a merchant to sell some of the odd treasures he had picked up in his travels in hopes of procuring a bit of extra copper to fund his big night on the surface…

He examined the money he had on him and sighed. It was more than enough for him, but he wanted the extra… ‘for what?’

‘Surely not for…?’ He’d put the thought to rest as soon as it crossed his mind. He stuffs the heavy bag of coins back into his satchel and heads back into the town’s square. 

—

“Oh Namari, this would look perfect on you!” you gush over an embroidered cotton tunic that you found hanging in the window of a storefront. “I think they even do alterations here if you really want it,”

Namari shrugs, brushing off the idea altogether. 

“I’ve got a clean set of casual clothes in my bag so I don’t really need to spend what I’ve got on that. We’ve still got to get a room, eat, and drink tonight,” she reminds you.

“Ah, yeah,” you respond, a little disappointed that you couldn’t go shopping for new clothes with Namari. She’s very practical as you’ve learned. “I still want to try to find something nice for tonight, if that’s okay with you?”

She agrees to go on and book a room while you go inside the store and shop around. As a fighter, your clothes have been torn up quite a bit from the countless dungeon brawls you’ve been in. Your pants are torn at the knee, armor rusted and dented in places, and anything white holds the telltale brown of blood. As your calloused hand snags against the soft sleeve of a light olive green dress, you find just the thing to wear.

You find yourself hoping you both chose the same bar.

—

Namari moans in relief face first into the down-y pillow. Her freshly washed red hair sticks to her forehead as she lifts her head up to turn towards the bathroom door as you walk out in a towel.

“What’s nicer, having a bed or a real bath for once?” you joke, flopping down on the bed situated opposite of hers.

“Both are pretty damn good, honestly,”

“I’ll drink to that,” 

There are the telltale signs of a band warming up downstairs and the unmistakable smell of food that wafts up. She peels herself up from the bed and makes the descent downstairs to scope out the festivities for the night as you take the time to get ready. 

Your body is still riddled with cuts, bruises, and broken skin, all of it superficial. Sometimes you just don’t have the tolerance to sit still and let someone heal you. The dress’s sleeves are long and off of your shoulders, and the skirt is long and flowing. There was nothing flashy about it, but it still made you feel confident and pretty. 

You haven’t felt that way in a long time.

—

It’s no surprise that Chilchuck found his way to the tavern, the promises of music and the inviting smell of the food from outside drew him in nearly immediately. There were loads of people, a clear view of a dance floor, and plenty of patrons lined up along the bar. He was ready for his good time, sauntering in with a cool and calm stride right up to the bar to secure his order for the night. 

His mind wanders to relaxation and the array of activities available to him tonight. With enough drink coursing through him, he’d take a shot at cutting up the dance floor. His eyes bounced between the locals and other adventurers that were passing through, not recognizing most. His eyes lay on a mess of red hair hunched over a table in the corner and he breathes a relieved sigh. 

…didn’t he need a break from his co-workers?

“Oi, Namari!” the half-foot calls out, showing off a full bottle of wine and a food ticket detailing his dinner order. Namari waves him over excitedly and kicks out an empty chair for him. “You’ve got the right idea, tonight!”

“Damn straight! Got a room here and everything,” the redhead gloats, finishing off the last little bit of ale in her own mug. As she smacks it down on the table, she jerks her head to the side to gesture towards the other end of the bar that was in eyesight. “Someone needs to let ‘miss priss’ know that I’m not third wheeling tonight, no matter how drunk this guy gets her!”

Chilchuck raises his eyebrow and glances towards the scene in question, almost expecting an entirely different outcome even though he knew that you and Namari were sharing a room tonight.

You were perched at the bar on a high stool, your new dress draped down to flutter around your crossed legs. Your toe tapped along to the music as you were locked in conversation with a fellow tall-man. The guy was above average in the looks department, giving off a clean-cut vibe that you normally would not go for at all. His copper got you drinks, and drinks got him a conversation.

…NOT companionship.

He sees the way that you smile at this guy and he immediately knows it's disingenuous. In the dungeon, the smile you have as you fight alongside him is cracking and goofy, but definitely not tight-lipped and wry. Anyone who knew you would know this was some act.

Laios would call it akin to a mating ritual. Chilchuck calls it bullshit.

Your nervous glances as the blond touches your arm are darting yet subtle enough to be mistaken as butterflies. Your skin was flushed because of the amount of drinks you’d already had, not because you were flattered by any of the drivel this guy spoke to you.

‘If he calls you ‘beautiful’ one more time, things might get…ugly?’

He couldn’t tell if he wanted to smack you or the pushy guy that’s taking all of your attention. Chilchuck would never participate in the active harm of a party member, his job is obviously to prevent it, but GODS did he want you to get a grip.

Was he…jealous?

“Well, that’s annoying,” he says, not only saying it in reference to you, but to the nagging feeling now bouncing around his thoughts. He didn’t get into the personal lives of his fellow party members, openly detesting the idea of interpersonal relationships taking place in the dungeon.

But, this isn’t the dungeon…and you’re not working…

He takes a loooonnng sip from the bottle. Namari chuckles and claps a hand down on his shoulder as she scoots past him to go get another refill.

“If looks could kill, huh?” she teases.

—

The mask was truly coming off as the night dragged on. Jaunty music played as the bar-goers swung each other around. Every time the music dipped to a slower song, you were clearly not having it.

The ‘it’ being anything else to do with this guy. Dinner came and went, a meal that would have been picked clean by now was left growing cold on the bar as you dizzily weaved through the dancers to get back to your spot. Quickly, you scooped the plate and utensils into your hands and tried to make a break for Namari’s table. A hand skirts along your lower back and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Need some help, beautiful?” Chilchuck sneers from your side, offering to expertly guide you through the crowd without much incident. You roll your eyes and glance down at the smaller man. 

“If I hear that word one more time, I’ll probably go insane,” you complain, glancing over your shoulder for the creep in question. “You know, he tried to read my pulse to see if I was nervous earlier…”

“He was probably checking to see how easy it would be to skin you alive later,” Chilchuck says dryly, wiggling his fingers in a mockingly menacing way. You groan in response and wipe the sweat from your brow. Your fingers pinch it slightly in frustration as you begin to recount the events of the night.

“Too bad you didn’t want me to spend time with you, I’d much rather have been with you instead of going through all that,” you say, flopping into the chair Namari left behind and kicking your feet up. You end up digging into your food voraciously, the temperature is tepid but not entirely cold and inedible. 

You get a bit of barbecue sauce on your chin, but not enough to where it would fall down onto your dress. 

Were you really that tipsy?

“You realize that was a joke, right?” He looks away from you and out towards the crowd, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink in embarrassment. Your confused look was too much, an innocent shock washing over you as if you thought it was the truth.

“Well, you’ve been real rude to me lately, I figured you ACTUALLY had a problem with me!” you argue between bites, your tone indignant like a child’s. He scoffs and bites back a laugh, actually trying to fuck with you on this one. 

“Yeah, I despise you!”

“I’m getting mixed signals here,”

“You’re a liar, you kick ass all the time in the dungeon and then try to act like a lady the second you step foot out of it. I’ve seen you covered in monster guts, and this is scarier to me,” He gestures to the outfit.

“Shit ‘Chuck, forgive me for wanting to wear something pretty for ya…”

“Well, you’ve already got my attention, you can drop the act now.”

You look at the way his face is completely flushed and it all begins to make sense. You distracted yourself from the half-foot’s hot and cold treatment, you curbed your expectations within your working relationship and completely ignored that even though he wasn’t one to share his feelings…he still had them.

“So, when I said that thing about ‘pleasure…’”

“I didn’t want to wind up watching someone else take you home…or to Namari’s room…or whatever! I wanted to hang out, to drink, and things to just stay the way they were,” he fusses, getting up from his chair and walking towards you. He tenderly grabs your chin and turns your face up towards him. Between him standing in front of you and where you sat at the table, you were nearly eye to eye…

Surely, this wasn’t…!

He takes the cloth napkin and wipes the sauce from your chin. 

“I care a lot about you…and I don’t like seeing you make stupid decisions,” he confesses, still holding your face in his gloved hand. You find yourself having a hard time keeping a straight face. “...What’s that dumbass look on your face for?! I like you, I swear!”

“I’m drunk and this is hilarious,”

“You could say it back!”

“I like you too, ‘Chuck…I swear,” you reply, placing your hand on top of his. Your face cracks into that goofy smile he likes so much and he can’t help but to sigh. 

…If only you weren’t in public.

The crowd at the bar had dwindled down to only a few remaining patrons, some at the bar were still engrossed in conversation with the bartender and others were finishing up their rousing and complicated game of cards. Namari was still nowhere to be found and Chilchuck shrugs as you look around the tavern for her again.

“She’s outside, surely,” he says, pushing his chair in. As you get up, you stumble slightly and grab onto the chair for support. “I’ll help you up. You’re still pretty tipsy, huh?”

“Yeah, but that’s what I get for trying to keep up with you,” you chuckle, reaching out to him for support. His arm supports your lower back, his hand is on your hip as he walks you towards the stairs. You were all legs and curves to him, but he didn’t mind as long as you didn’t fall on top of him…

…without his consent of course. 

The other key to the room was tucked haphazardly into your brassiere. How it hadn’t fallen out onto the dance floor at any point was so beyond you, but you were just happy you weren’t locked out after all.

“I’ve still got to find a place for tonight,” Chilchuck realizes, forgetting about it altogether in all of the excitement.

“Honestly, I could probably hide you under the covers,” you joke, albeit rooted in truth. “I’d really like it if you’d stay though…”

“And incur the wrath of Namari? I like you, but not that much,”

“Fair enough,”

—

The two of you spend the night chatting and sobering up in each other’s arms. You fall asleep first, Chilchuck shortly after. The oil lamp’s glow lights the room dimly, neither of you had made a move to turn it off. 

The door’s lock unlatches and Namari flings it open excitedly, a new longsword glinting proudly in her arms. “--oh you TOTALLY owe me now, but I got a great deal on the perfect longsword for-” 

Her voice trails off as she sees you stir and another body that follows suit…

End Notes: I hope you enjoyed the fic! I've got some ideas for a continuation in the future if folks are interested teehee

I'm still working on becoming a more confident writer, so I'm hoping y'all will stick around for my growth! Minor edits will be made if I find any mistakes and constructive criticism is always appreciated! (Just don’t be an ass about it 👀)

Credits: Dividers by @/cafekitsune, cover art from 'Daydream Hour' scans

🖤 Rules | Ask Box | Masterlist 🖤

[dearly-somber]

Crush | l.mh

-> pairing. crush!minho x f!reader (ft. jisung & reader)

-> genre. s2l, pining, fluff, humor

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1294

-> warnings. None!!

-> a/n. This was supposed to be an x jisung fic but Minho came knocking so 😪

-> collection. songfics

-> started. ???

-> fin. Dec. 21st, 2020 @ 00:12

-> edited. Mon., Feb. 19th, 2024 @ 15:05

"Y/N? Hello? Are you even listening?"

"I'm sorry, what?" You smiled awkwardly. You were sitting in the cafeteria with Jieun, staring at Lee Minho who was sitting a table away from you with his friends. He was laughing loudly at something his friend, Han Jisung, had said. You shared classes with most of Minho's friends, and you were pretty sure he was in almost all of your classes, which equalled one very disastrous distraction.

"You were staring again, weren't you?" Jieun asked, a Cheshire grin pulling at her lips.

You puffed out your cheeks, annoyed with your friend's teasing. "Shut up..."

"Why don't you just tell him you like him?"

"Because he'll reject me?” You frown incredulously.

"How would you know for sure if—"

"I'm not even going there, Eun." You shut her down immediately, frustrated with your situation. You really, and I mean really liked Minho. You didn't wanna give yourself hope, because you knew he'd never go for a girl like you. You'd much rather just admire him from afar.

"That's it, I can't do this anymore." Jieun sprung up from her chair so suddenly you didn't have enough time to grab her. She sped towards Minho's table, effectively turning your eyes into saucers.

You jumped away from your seat so quick you fell over. “Shit!”

You shut your eyes tightly, internally chanting, fuckfuckfuckfuck. You had more pressing matters, even though you were sure a hundred different people had turned their heads in your direction, including some of Minho's friends.

"—needs to tell you—” You smacked your hand over Jieun's mouth, putting her in a headlock and pulling her away from the table. You smiled awkwardly at Minho while laughing, whispering into Jieun's ear about how brutally you'd murder her after this.

"You wanted to tell me something?" Minho asked expectantly, sparing a worried glance at your arm around Jieun's neck. You ugly laughed as you let go of your friend, pushing her behind you while glancing at the roaming eyes around the cafeteria. "Uhm..."

What you hadn't realized (being occupied with not embarrassing yourself further) was the way Jisung had seen how nervous you looked from behind his friend's shoulder, recognizing some of his own anxious habits. Taking a step forward, Jisung smiled at you and Minho brightly, your brows furrowing in obvious confusion.

"Y/N wanted to know if it was alright for her to come over to the dorm so that we could study for Calculus together? I asked her to ask first because I was nervous and you know how I—"

Jisung was cut off when Minho laughed happily, unintentionally making the corners of your mouth turn up. Before he could notice you smiling, you snapped out of it and put on the most neutral expression you could.

"Yeah, of course it's fine! I don't know why you two are so nervous to ask.” Minho chuckled before ruffling his friend’s hair playfully. Jisung scrunched his nose, smiling at you afterward. You nodded, mumbling something about how you'd meet Jisung at 4pm after classes ended, mouthing thank you as you left.

You stood outside of the SKZ dorm room, where Minho and his friends stayed. They were all majoring in Music & Arts, and you knew how talented they all were. You were majoring in business, though you were hoping all of your writing classes and practice would pay off. It was one of the reasons why you liked Minho.

You haven't seen true perfection until you've seen that man dance, 'cause let me tell you—

"Y/N! Come inside, please!" Bang Chan, the supposed head of the group, said with a dimpled smile. Cute. You ducked passed him and into the dorm room with a smile. "Jisung should be down in a bit, he's just cleaning up."

"Cleaning up?" you repeated curiously, looking around the living room, dining room and kitchen in awe. How was it so clean?

"Him, Felix and Hyunjin had dance classes a couple of minutes ago,” Chan said, watching you curiously.

"I hope I'm not intruding?" You bit down on your lip anxiously.

"No! Of course not!" Chan smiled brightly, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. "If you want anything to eat we have some snacks in the fridge, or you can just get Han to order pizza or something."

"Okay, thank you..." You smiled shyly, watching Chan disappear down the hallway and into one of the rooms.

"Y/N! Hey, sorry I'm kinda late."

You turned to Jisung. "Oh, it's no prob...lem…"

Jisung’s hair was damp and disheveled, and he was wearing a now almost see-through white tank top with loose fitting sweats. His socks had a cute ducky pattern on them.

"You okay?" he asked, reminding you of a squirrel you'd seen in the park a few days ago.

"Me? Yeah, I'm great! Sorry..." You laughed awkwardly as you took a few steps towards him. "So where are we 'studying'?"

"Studying? Oh, right. I thought we could just chill in my room?"

You went a light shade of pink as you imagined yourself alone with Jisung, closing your eyes tightly to erase any dirty thoughts. "Uh, sure?"

Once you were in his room, Jisung apologized and picked up some stray pieces of clothing, throwing them onto a pile in the corner of the room. You made yourself comfortable on his bed, spreading out your books and sheets before waiting awkwardly for him to sit with you.

"You're actually going to study?" he asked in a shocked voice, eyes wide.

You looked at him with a confused expression. “What else would we do?"

"I don't know... I thought we could talk about your little crush." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Your eyes widened, ears turning pink. "What crush?"

"Your crush on Minho hyung—!"

You leaned up on your knees to slap your hand over his mouth. You pulled away almost immediately after realizing what you had done, stuttering slightly.

"Shut—shut up! Don't let the whole world know would you?" you hissed, puffing your cheeks out at the way he giggled at you.

"Why don't you tell him?"

"Oh my God you're just like Jieun," you whined, leaning back on your haunches while Jisung tried to hold back his laughter.

"Seriously though, you should tell him. He's started noticing you a lot more now."

"Really?" you asked, biting your lip hopefully.

"Yeah, of course! He kept talking about how cute you were at the cafeteria during our vocal lessons today—"

"Is he.. Is he here?" you asked nervously, voice soft and shy.

Jisung beamed at you, telling you where Minho's room was.

You stood outside of his door, staring at the photo you had saved from his Instagram (no, it was not weird). He was leaning against the palm of his hand in a denim jacket he wore often enough for you to recognize it, his lips poured as his hair curtained his right eye, hiding it from view. Such a cute, completely natural picture, and yet he looked like a model...

How?

After a moment, you lifted your hand to knock on the door, instead falling forward when the door swung open. You yelped, falling down on someone with a gentle oof.

"Oh my God, Minho, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? I swear I wasn't being creepy I just—"

"It's alright, Y/N, please just uh... Stand up?"

"Right!" You scrambled to your feet, your hair falling into your face.

"Uhm..." Minho looked at you as if he was just as nervous, scratching the back of his neck. “Did you want to... Say something?"

"Uhm yeah, actually... Listen... Ireallylikeyouandidhould'vetoldyouearlierbutIwastoonervousandIreallyhopewecanbefriendsifyoudon'tlikemeback—“

"Y/N!"

You looked at him anxiously, shutting your eyes tightly before cracking them open. "Yes?"

"I like you too..."

"Well, shit."

[xuanhttps]

⠀♩⠀⠀‿‿⠀⠀❀⠀⠀⠀﹒⠀⠀⠀꒷꒦⠀⠀⠀Ꮺ ֶָ۪ ⠀⠀⠀﹐ i will see your body bare

› in which ;; you will always be there.

› containing ;; azul ashengrotto, leona kingscholar, silver vanrouge , gn!reader (you/yours)

› disclaimer ;; not proofread and written at midnight, kinda songfic??? not rlly but i plaster mitski lyrics here and there bc im in love with her carnally

a treasury is not complete without a pearl — ashengrotto, azul.

he is dependant, even if he hides it. azul would rather eat octopus than admit to his dependancy on your love. someone as strong and independent as the ramshackle prefect would surely laugh at his desperation! he cannot be weak. surely. that is what he must be telling himself, you think as you pull his head closer to you. resting it inbetween your shoulder and neck as his eyes droop. after hours of managing the lounge, perhaps the big fish mafia boss needs his own break.

you lay him down in bed, not before taking off his blazer and hanging it on the chair. he lays down in your bed, although uncomfortable in theory the simple scent of that perfume schoenheit bought you will never fade. he sighs lovingly, gazing at your face which is just so.. responsible, taking care of him like this.

i will wash your hair at night, and dry it off with care.

other nights, the two of you bathe together in his dorm. your hair knitted in his curly, white locks as you massage the shampoo into his scalp, only looking at his face to avoid him feeling insecure, you know him so perfectly. it drives him crazy in love. he feels so safe, even with his body bare. with you, its as if the past 17 years of his life never occurred. all that matters is the soft caress of your fingers against his skin, the sweet words you whisper as you press kisses to his neck and back. how you promise to him, that he will always be your pearl.

you are the one thing i cannot lose — kingscholar, leona.

it should be considered unbecoming of him, to be so loving with you. to let you tangle your finger tips in his braids as you rub his ears as if he were a housecat. his grumbles go unnoticed, you both know how much he loves them. how he will always lean into your touch. how, for once, as embarrassing as it is.. he wishes for someone to fall back on. someone like you. the perfect, unstoppable prefect.

ever since his overblot, his eyes have been on you. the persistence you hold is something he wishes for. yet once he is in your lap, or you rest in his, that resolve turns to specks of sand in afterglow savannah. he could be stripped of his royal title, and he would still dismiss it if it meant feeling your hands graze over his skin. or seeing the ways in which your expressions change with your mood.

cause' all I ever wanted is here, all i ever wanted.

right. he could shed tears when he remembers how dear he is to you. what did he do to deserve this? a second place player, a second place prince. always second place. why is he first to you? is it pity? he should be enraged. he should growl and remind you that he is far from weak. yet, he melts into you like cotton candy in the rain. hes weak for you, youre weak for him.

i see your smile in my dreams — vanrouge, silver

he wishes to see more of you. with you, more than ever, silver wishes his narcolepsy could just disappear. silver is abundantly aware of how much he misses, your smile and your voice.. how much more he could see them, how much more he would hear them. how addicting it would be, like a drug that only brings fortune. silver wishes he could protect you from the forsaken world you are trapped in. yet despite that, he knows you are strong. silver cannot help but look up to you, you who will always be the strongest person in his heart.

so by the time you wake, ill be brave.

he rests his head in your lap, like a child longing for the embrace of a parent. the experience carries a scent of childhood, if such a thing may be described. like a warmth enveloping the two of you. thorns in your side wither into dust when he is near. his eyes glimmer like stars fallen to the sand, a long walk barefoot with the grains against your feet and the wind passing by like time being a dream silver finds hopeful. perhaps in another world, he could stay awake to see your face much longer. should he be blind to such a rejuvenating sight, silver will drown in the sensation of your touch like a diver at sea. he may never return, if you leave he may never be the same. for, his home lies in your heart alone.

[leighsartworks216]

Might I request an enemies to friends to lovers with Astarion?

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LITTLE DRABBLE. IT IS ALMOST 4K WORDS. It also became a songfic. The song is "Your Stupid Face" by Kaden MacKay

Also it is 11:20. I am so tired. I do not have the energy to proofread this rn. So it's as good as it's gonna get

Warnings: self-doubt, bickering

Word Count: 3,957

Masterlist

AO3

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I just really hate your face

Though I know that won't surprise you

But, to me, your skin is one giant wart

And your laugh's one big snort

And you stink, so in short

I despise you

You disgrace the human race

'Cause you're more of a mosquito

I would rather have the dentist and drill

Then this swine in the swill

And if you were a bill, I would veto

And if the world was perfect, you would be gone without a trace

But since the world could never be that great

I'll just hate your stupid face

-

Astarion sighed just behind you. You glared over your shoulder at him. Did he really have to be so annoying when you were trying to help? What did he have against doing the right thing?! Or were all high elves as up their asses as him?

The little girl glanced nervously between you, her hands fiddling anxiously with each other. “I-Is that alright?”

You turned back to her with a big smile, though Astarion could see the strain behind it. “Of course! It’s no problem. We’ll find your toy and bring it back before nightfall, how’s that sound?”

“Really?!” Her eyes became wide and excited, bouncing on her feet like there were hot coals beneath it. “Thank you so much!”

You watched as she ran off back to her mother, jumping as she grabbed the woman’s arm and pointed at you. You smiled, genuine this time, and waved to them both. Then, you turned to go back into the woods.

The joy didn’t last long.

“I thought being an adventurer meant slaying dragons, learning powerful spells, gaining power - that sort of thing.” Astarion sighed again, long and dramatic, as he stepped over a branch. “But, no, here we are, armed to the teeth, tadpoles crawling into our minds, looking for a stuffed animal.”

You grit your teeth together and tried to ignore him. The sooner you found the girl’s stuffed bear, the sooner you could stop listening to his whining. “She said she lost it over here, somewhere, but something could have taken it or moved it by now. If we split up, we can cover more ground.”

You could almost feel the way he rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. If I find it, I’m not telling you. And I’m certainly not going to touch it. Gods only know what’s on it.”

“You’re such a child!”

He lays a hand over his chest, looking down his nose at you. “I’m so sorry that I have some dignity left.”

How did you get stuck with such an annoying, self-entitled, brat? 

“Fine! Then I’ll look, and you can follow me around like a lost puppy.” You smiled sickeningly sweet up at him, your whole expression filled with sarcasm and annoyance. “Happy?”

He scowled. “And I have to follow you because…? If you’re so eager for my company, you should just say so, darling.”

You shook your head, facade falling. “You’re impossible.” You stomped off. He could follow you or wait around, you didn’t have the energy left to care.

—

Oh, no

No

I just really like your face

You don't have to look so happy

I'm not really into love that you flaunt

In some glittery font

But if that's what you want

Make it snappy

I just feel so out of place

Well, except for when you're near me

When you're gone, I'm like a plant with no root

Or a song that's on mute

Don't you dare call it cute!

You should fear me!

And if the world was perfect, you would've never invaded my space

But since the world's obsessed with saying, "psych!"

Now I like your stupid face

-

You tilted your head, watching as Astarion held up a mirror. The tadpole kept him from burning in the sun, but it did nothing to bring back his reflection.

“Looking at something?” His voice catches you off guard. It was odd to have someone talking to you with their back turned, even more so when he could see your reflection and you couldn’t see his.

“Just looking,” you tell him. “What are you doing?”

He sighs, forlorn. “I’m looking, too, but not seeing very much. Another quirk of my affliction.”

“Do you miss it?”

He stands and turns while he speaks, finally meeting you face-to-face. “Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?” He sighs again. His face looks so droopy and sad, like a puppy left out in the rain. “Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

You look at his eyes, really look. It was hard to picture him with any other color. It was a side-effect of his vampirism, but you could go your whole life believing they always were and always had been red. “What color were they before?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past.” His face scrunches up in rage as he throws the mirror on the ground. You step back to avoid the shards that break from it. “Another thing I’ve lost.”

You can’t imagine forgetting your face. It’s a rather big portion of who you are, after all. Thinking about looking in a mirror and seeing nothing stirs your stomach like a witch’s brew. You study his face, eyes tracing over every curve and sharp edge and wrinkle. You tried to imagine being him, no longer able to see what you looked like.

Astarion frowns at you. “What?”

“I’ll be your mirror.” The words are out before you can even think them, but a spark of hope flickers in his eyes, and you can’t bring yourself to back out of it now. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me.” He pauses. His voice gets soft, lacking its usual bravado. “What you see.”

He waits as you look at him. You try to figure out what the world sees, versus what you see. The world may see his eyes, sharp and red and keen. The world would see his dangerous smile, full of pretty teeth and sharp fangs, threatening to bite.

But it’s not what you see. You see his hair, paler than freshly fallen snow. You see the way it curls around his ears, how there’s always one stubborn strand hanging by his forehead. You see the wrinkles that crease his face when he smiles, surrounding his mouth and crowding in the corners of his eyes. And you’re startled, trying to figure out how long ago you’d noticed these things about him.

“I see… the creases when you laugh.”

He sneers, placing a hand over his chest. He takes it as an insult when you mean it in the kindest way possible. Without his wrinkles, he wouldn’t be Astarion. “Excuse me? I’m an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother.” He huffs. He looks like he wants to stop - never mind what he looks like, he doesn’t want to hear what else you could possibly say. But he continues, “You can do better. What else?” The curiosity wins out.

You wonder if you should tell him the easy answer. Tell him what the world sees. What everyone else sees. But to do so feels like a huge disservice. You inhale, prepared to be scolded once more. “I see the way your hair curls around your ears.”

“This is meant to be flattery, not poetry.” He sighs, creases forming between his brows as he frowns, annoyed. “Just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.”

“Is that all you want?” You don’t mean to sound as angry as you do. “Shallow praise?”

He scoffs. “Hardly.” He begins ticking off fingers. “There’s also gold, sex, revenge - quite the list, really. But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

You shake your head. “What I see isn’t good enough for you then? The seductive, charming face you put on for everyone else - that’s what you want to know about?” He sneers. He hates how easily you’ve read him. And you hate how much it hurts. You can’t tell if it’s because your words mean nothing, or because he can’t even allow himself a single, beautiful flaw. “The world sees your eyes. They’re strong and piercing. And your smile: Dangerous. They see you for the monster you are. Are you satisfied now?”

You leave before he can answer you. Anger trembles in your fingers, but they’re weighed down with sadness. A conflicting bundle of emotions twists in your chest. You shouldn’t care if all he wants is to be called pretty and move on. You shouldn’t! And you don’t!

But you do…

—

I just really miss your face

Though, by now, I must disgust you

I had tried to be the stubbornest mule

'Cause I knew life was cruel

So I guess I was foolish to trust you

But I wait here just in case

Though I know I'm being senseless

How could I have ever been so naive

And wear my heart on my sleeve

When I knew it would leave me defenseless?

And if the world was perfect, you would be here in my embrace

But since the world denied me one last kiss

I'll just miss your stupid face

-

The sun burned. Truly, honest to gods burned. And he ran. What else was he supposed to do? Bake in the sunlight while everyone else said their teary goodbyes, “We’ll see you down the road”, yadda yadda?

But, he can admit when he messed up.

He should have stayed longer. By the docks. The sun was just beginning to rise, he had plenty of time to slip from one shadow to the next before it was high in the sky. He could have said his goodbyes. He should have.

Already he missed Karlach. He fondly remembers when she hauled him over her shoulder, jostling him about as she ran. He certainly wasn’t too pleased at the time, but now… And he missed her nickname for him. And the banter, and teasing, and… everything.

Everyone had their charms, he supposed. Gale was, well, Gale, but even he wasn’t too bad. And you.

It was hard to admit. He could say he missed the others all day, but you? You who dragged him into the woods to find a stuffed animal for a kid? Who begrudgingly let him have a sip that night he revealed himself? Who yelled at him when he couldn’t bear hearing anything other than he wanted to when you offered to be his mirror? Who hugged him after he killed Cazador? Who helped him save his brothers and sisters and all the other souls whose lives he ruined? Who smiled so sweetly at him?

He couldn’t say it.

After he ran away, cursing and damning the gods for confining him to the shadows again, he disappeared to the Underdark. You’d mentioned how they needed a leader, guidance. And, well, he had nowhere else to go.

He never got to see you run in the direction he left after saying your goodbyes, smiling and excited. Or watch as you search and search for him. How you shout his name. How tears well in your eyes as you realize he’s gone.

And maybe it’s better that way.

—

What are you doing here?

I didn't run away!

It was... it was a strategic retreat

What is there to talk about? It's over—I ruined it

Well, yeah of course I'm sorry, but

No, no, don't forgive me!

Why do you do that?

Why—why give me another chance to mess things up?

Because you—what?

Those three little words

Out of the blue

Completely uncalled for

Especially from you

Why don't you hate me?

Why do you care?

Can't you berate me? Isn't that fair?

Where is your glare?

Don't you dare leave our problems and pain on the shelf!

Because if you don't hate me, I can't hate myself

But that's why I need you

You shatter my fear

'Cause despite my misdeed, you are still right here

Though it's stupid to date me

You're willing to try

And if you don't hate me, then why should I?

Are you sure you don't want to give up on me?

You're a moron

-

The last thing Astarion anticipates is you barging into his home, stomping and angry. The next last thing he expects is for you to throw a cloak in his face. He backs up as fast as you approach, tripping and falling backward over an armchair. It tips back with him and he lands with a thud. When he pulls the cloak off his face, you’re standing over him, still just as pissed as before.

“Ah.” He grins sheepishly. “Hello?”

“You ran away!”

“Yes, yes, I know-”

“You ran away! I went chasing after you and you were gone!”

“The sun! I couldn’t-”

“I know! That’s why I went and got you that damn cloak! And I was going to give it to you on the docks, but you ran away!”

He struggles to get up, grunting as he tries to push the armchair off so he’s not bent in half. You huff and sit the chair upright. Then, you offer him a hand. He’s not sure if he should take it. He’s half-certain you’ll flip him over and crack the floor with his body. But you wave your hand, insistent, and he does not want to piss you off any more, so he takes it. You haul him to his feet.

He holds the cloak out in front of him, studying it with a frown. “Darling, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but clothes don’t actually protect us from the sun.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” You sigh, hands on your hips, but you seem to have cooled off some. “It’s the Cloak of Dragomir. Gale helped me find where it was hidden. I figured, if the tadpole is the only thing keeping you safe in the sun, then after it’s all over, you’d need something else to protect you. So.” You gestured at the cloak.

He was speechless, and perhaps a bit skeptical. It had already been several weeks since the docks, and every day he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. Basking in the sun. Lounging in her warmth like a cat as he sleepily flipped through a book. It sounded too good to be true - a simple piece of fabric that could prevent him from turning to ash?

“Are you sure it works?”

You laughed, airily and annoyed. “No, I had a shortage of vampires to test it on at the time. I was going to find out when you tried it on. If it didn’t work, well…” You let out a long breath. You refused to take your eyes away from the cloak. Like looking at him again would bring all the rage and frustration back. “I’m still in touch with Gale. He can help me look for something.”

He spun it around to look at the back. It was a deep purple, with the only remarkable feature being a sort of fur around the neck and shoulders. He could almost imagine it hanging up in a shop.

You cleared your throat. “Put it on.”

“Hardly the best place to test it. The sun doesn’t exactly reach down here.” Still, he unclasped it and swung it over his shoulders.

It was light and breezy, allowing air to move through, but warm enough it kept away any chill - not very concerning for a vampire, but still a nice feature. It reached mid-thigh. He shifted around in it, testing its movement and fit. He bristled when he felt something brush against his arm.

He lifted up the edge of the cloak where he felt it, and his undead heart stopped all over again. There, messily embroidered on the lining in gold thread. Little Star. A poor imitation of embroidered stars surrounded it, forming a sort of faux night sky.

“I did that.” You clear your throat and scratch the back of your head, avoiding his eyes everywhere you looked. Every time you glanced back at him and his dumbfounded face, your cheeks heated up. “I know it’s not as good as yours, but, you know, I thought it was the best way to get a message across.”

His chest was full of emotion. He still had a hard time deciphering it all, even after so long of you carefully teasing them out. But through it all was one resounding question.

“Why?”

You finally made eye contact with him. You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this can’t have been easy to get your hands on. You could have sold it when I ran away, but you embroidered it, sought me out… Why? Let’s be honest, dear, we’re not exactly friends.”

“We’re not exactly at each other’s throats either.” It came out harsher than you meant. You took a breath to calm your nerves. “I know we didn’t really get along when we first met - hells, we still argued about everything under the sun with the slightest prompting, but I do care for you.”

His lips quick up slightly. “An unfortunate choice. I’m not exactly the easiest person to care for.”

“No.” You smile, soft and patient. It was hard to look at you now and connect you to the person who barged into his room moments ago. “But I want to. You’re worth the effort.”

—

So you think that we could work?

Here I thought I'd been the dumb one—what?

You're forgiving me for all I did wrong

You're unmuting the song

And, again, I belong to someone

No! You can drop the stupid smirk

Though by now I guess you've earned that

'Cause no matter how intensely I pout

Your stupid face will win out

And I guess it's about time I learned that

And though we go together like a Chanel Nº 5 and mace

At least it's not as dull as fitting like a glove

'Cause you're a nightmare that I've not been dreaming of

But I suppose that when push comes to shove

Fine!

I love your stupid face

-

You tugged Astarion through the city, releasing short apologies left and right to any early-risers you bumped into. He’d tried asking multiple times where in the hells you were taking him, but you never answered. You just shot him a bright smile over your shoulder and kept on running.

Before he knew it, you were at the docks. A light orange hue lined the edge of the ocean, signaling the sun’s appearance. He frowned. “You dragged me all the way out here to watch the sunrise?”

“Yes.” You squeezed his hand. Your eyes were wide and bright and filled with overwhelming glee. “You never got to see it last time you were here. But now you can!”

He scoffed, a grin teasing at his lips. “Darling, we could watch the sunrise from anywhere. We don’t need to be exactly here to do so.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, no, but it’s more about the principle of the thing. You didn’t get to see that sunrise and say goodbye, but now you can.”

Red eyes scanned the horizon. Oranges and yellows flooded from the ocean-line, chasing away the dark blue of night. He couldn’t deny it was beautiful, but…

He swallowed, frowning out at the sea. He couldn’t look at your face as he asked, quietly, too afraid to actually put the words out there, “So this is goodbye?”

The edge of the star poked her head out. He’d enjoyed watching the sunrises and sunsets during your adventure. He would welcome her touch onto his skin every day, grateful for even just a brief moment to be able to feel her warmth again after 200 years. And every night he would mourn her loss, a seed of fear planted deep within that any sunset could be his last, before he would be contained to the shadows forever. He never got to savor the last one. The one time he wasn’t prepared to go gracefully into that night.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you whisper back. If you hear the shuddering breath he lets out, you don’t say anything. If you see the tears building at the corners of his eyes as he turns to look at you, you don’t point it out. “I can stay. With you. If you want.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.” But I wish I could. He wants nothing more than to be selfish. To take every single scrap you offer him and give nothing back.

You release his hand only to better tangle your fingers together. Your thumb runs along his palm. “You wouldn’t have to.”

“You’d be living in the shadows most of your life, even with this,” he lifts the edge of the cloak to make a point.

“Okay.”

“You wouldn’t be able to go on adventures. You wouldn’t be able to find someone else, have a family, live your life.”

“Okay.”

“Why are you so willing to give up everything for me?”

You raise your free hand to his cheek. It’s haloed by the red-orange light of the sun. He hates the way he leans into it without a second’s hesitation.

“Is it so hard to believe that I’d stay because I want to be with you?”

He opens his mouth, shuts it again, and tries to find the words. Strained, he chokes out, “Yes.”

“My lovely little star, even without the cloak, I’d stay in the shadows with you for eons. Adventure would be empty without you by my side. There is no one else I could bear to put up with besides you.”

He takes a breath and closes his eyes. It’s hard for the words to sink in, but he urges them to. Staying with him would not be a burden. He is not a burden. He holds your hand to his cheek, pressing it tighter against his skin. By the time he opens his eyes again, the sun is halfway risen.

“I’m not good at… this. Whatever this is. I have no idea how to do anything more than what I had to do. I have no idea what will happen.”

You smile. “Now that sounds like an adventure.”

He chuckles. The knot in his heart loosens. When had you turned from an annoying thorn in his side to this? How long ago had you wormed your way into his soul? What would he do without you?

He feels like he’s just been thrown downstream - caught in the current and waiting for it to burn. He’s uncertain as he leans forward slightly, experimentally. You let him come to you; you wait patiently and smile at him encouragingly until he rests his forehead against yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

The sun warms his skin as he lets go of the guilt holding him back. He’s a mess. He’s still working through his emotions with Cazador, trying to find footing amongst the spawn in the Underdark, trying to be good enough. And here you are saying he already is.

He catches your lips and allows himself to forget for the briefest moments that this is a terrible idea. How can he possibly think this is wrong when you sigh into his mouth and pull him closer? How can this possibly be wrong?

The reds, oranges, and yellows fade from the sky. Bright blue dominates the sky. And everything is okay.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @chesb0red

[catbolt]

— PRETTY

[SOUNDTRACK] Pretty - The Weeknd || ▶︎

Sylus doesn't take breakups lying down. Well... maybe lying on top of you.

[TAGS] sylus x female mc, angst, smut, rough sex, ex-boyfriend!Sylus, cheating (with him) (on Zayne eek), dubcon sorta, choking, Evol, mentions of blood, glasses sylus bc it's soooo hot

[A/N] my debut fic for LADS (have not written for genuinely years so forgive any rustiness, first time doing any smut also, so i was frankly a bit light with it.) More angst than smut tbh as that is my comfort zone hehe. 100% inspired by "pretty" by the weeknd from my sylus playlist

plz reblog and share or comment if you want! Feel free to leave any thoughts or feedback as this is my first time writing in a while :)

[WC] 5.1k

songfic 1/?

Sylus’ call comes unexpectedly. As his calls always did, but especially this time, considering the last time they talked she had cursed him out and damn near trashed his house, saying she was done, telling him to delete her number. He had sat on the couch with an impassive stare, arms crossed, legs splayed leisurely, completely silent. This had just enraged her even further, and she had thrown a pillow at him, desperate for some kind of reaction. He had caught it and set it down next to him calmly, continuing to refuse to give her even a morsel of proof he cared.

Whatever the two of them had had, it was over. She thought she had made that extremely clear. So her eyebrows furrow in confusion and annoyance when his name comes up on her phone screen. Sylus wouldn’t be the type to beg for her back, so what could he possibly be calling her for? Especially when he knew she was going on an out of town mission?

Especially when he knew Zayne was on this mission with her?

Against her better judgment, she accepts the call and leans back in her chair in her hotel room, mouth drawing into an irritated grimace. “What.”

The line crackles with his dark, familiar laughter. “Hello to you too.” “Talk,” she spits.

“I’m on a flight,” he says. “To where you are. I’ll be landing in an hour. Let’s see each other.”

“I don’t think so,” she retorts immediately, seething  at his audacity-- how he could possibly be calling her right now as if what had happened last week was nothing. 

“Ah. Let me rephrase. That wasn’t a question,” he says sternly. “I will be seeing you when I land. Consider this a courtesy heads-up.”

“You don’t know where I am,” she responds. “I am not seeing you. It’s late and I have work tomorrow.” “Don’t piss me off.” He snarls. “I don’t like being underestimated. I obviously know exactly where you are.”

She grits her teeth, realizing she should have anticipated that, but quickly regains her composure. She’s used to the back and forth with him. “Don’t tell me you came all this way to see me.” “Of course not,” he says coldly. “I’m here on business. I just happen to have a free night.” His voice softens. “And I’d like to spend it with you.”

Her hands curl into fists. “Don’t act like I didn’t tell you to your face to never contact me again. What the hell are you doing?”

Sylus doesn’t respond for a moment, and then the silence is broken with his chuckle. ��You didn’t block me. So it seems you weren’t as adamant about that as you acted.”

Her cheeks redden with shame. He’s obviously right, she didn’t block him-- something had stopped her, even though she knew she should have. In the back of her mind, she had maybe fantasized about him calling her desperately, apologizing, begging for her back, and her crushing his hopes coldly like he had done to her so many times before.

“It doesn’t matter. You know I’m with Zayne now,” she says matter-of-factly. “You have no right to see me. I’m with somebody else.”

“I said don’t piss me off,” he bites, the simmer of irritation beginning to seep into his voice. It gives her a shiver of satisfaction knowing that she’s able to get under his skin even just a little. She leans into the receiver. “In fact, I was just on my way to his place now. It was a long day... we definitely both need to rest up together.”

The line falls quiet, and then Sylus finally replies, voice icy and measured. “You can’t possibly think I’m buying that, are you? Please, princess. I told you I’ll be there in an hour. Doll yourself up for me. I’ll take you out.”

The line drops. She scoffs, shaking her head. She’s pissed that he saw through her lie about Zayne-- he’s still working late, and there’s no way she’ll be seeing him tonight. She wonders what gave it away. Was it that he’s got men spying on them, or was it that her voice betrayed a hint of halfheartedness when she lied?

Her heart thuds, and her mind snaps back to the situation at hand. One hour. She sits still in the seat, completely unsure of her next move. Deep down she knows whether she likes it or not, Sylus will be on her doorstep right when he said he would. It’d be fruitless to attempt to escape him when he has eyes everywhere. So her plan... should be to fend him off. 

Her resolve was always weak when it came to that, but she tries to steel herself, taking deep breaths, recounting all the times he had ignored her, pushed her aside, forgotten about her. She tries to channel that resentment into a cold hard shell around her. She won’t be weak again. Not now. Not when she’s found someone good and kind who’s shown her that she’s worth time and effort. She won’t “doll herself up” for him. It’s her turn to show she doesn’t care.

The hour ticks by in a second, and there’s a steady knock on her door. Her heart sinks-- she had hoped that somehow his plans would have been foiled by some unexpected flight delay, but he was right on time as always. She sits still on the corner of her bed, unmoving. 

“Don’t make me pick the lock,” he chides softly. His voice is muffled through the wood, but the gleam of amusement shines through. She buries her face in her palms for a moment, and then slowly walks up to open the door just a crack. 

He pushes it fully open with a strong hand, smirk playing on his lips already as he looks down at her. “Still in your uniform,” he chides. “You want to wear that?”

“You are not taking me out.” She responds coldly, turning to walk over and sit at the coffee table again, not meeting his gaze. She needs to maintain distance. 

“If you’d rather stay here, we could make that work.” Sylus shuts the door quietly behind him and then leans his back against it, posture casual in a way that sends a spike of annoyance through her. This is why they broke up in the first place-- he was always so motherfucking casual about everything, even her, face betraying not a sliver of his true feelings. 

“What do you even want from me?” She snaps, eyes glued to the coffee table. Anything to avoid looking at him. “I told you I’m with someone else. I’m not interested in restarting anything with you.”

“When did I say anything about that?” He chuckles, clearing the room in a few swift strides and sitting on the loveseat opposite her. He’s wearing a casual sweater and sweatpants-- even his glasses, which he usually doesn’t. His hair is mussed up a bit, and she notices light bags under his eyes that give her pause. Something’s definitely up. She doesn’t know what, but doesn’t want to ask. She can’t invite more conversation if her goal is to get him out of this room. 

“I just want to take you out,” he murmurs, head now resting in his hand. “Is that a crime?” “Yes, when I’m spoken for by another man, it is.” She glares at him. “What about me being with someone else do you not understand?” “Does he make you feel pretty?” Sylus drawls, red eyes flickering with a hint of contempt. Her breath catches slightly, not anticipating the question. “What--”

“Does he?” Sylus pushes, leaning forward in his seat. “Does he make you feel beautiful?” “I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“No.” he cuts her off. “He doesn’t.” 

She’s stunned into silence. He leans back again, chuckling and pushing up his glasses, a motion that unfortunately sends a familiar fire coursing down her body, through her chest to her abdomen. “You didn’t fight me when I came in. You didn’t yell, or tell me to leave. That tells me all I need to know, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she sneers back. 

Suddenly Sylus’ hand is gripping her chin hard, forcing her head to meet his eyes. He’s closer than she had realized, his eyes staring deep into her own. “He can’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus rumbles, his thumb tracing her jaw, expression an inscrutable mask. 

In a moment, she finds herself sprawled out on the hotel bed before she can think. His Evol-- he can throw her around how he pleases, she reminds herself, mind flashing with memories she’s tried to forget of all the compromising positions her body’s been twisted into at his whim. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed across his chest as he looks down at her. She feels the heat of his gaze like two laser pointers as they examine her, lingering on every part of her. It's as if she’s under a scientist’s microscope. His gaze is unfeeling, but still somehow red-hot, and she can’t help the way her chest heaves up and down, feeling so observed.

He takes note of her body’s involuntary reaction. “He can’t make you feel like this by just looking at you, can he doll?”

“Fuck you,” she barks, face flushed with shame as she backs up on the bed, increasing the distance between the two. He smirks. “You’d like to?”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that what you’re here for? Sex?”

“No,” he muses, sitting down at the corner of the bed, looking at her. “Though I’m not opposed. I wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Her breath is coming out ragged. She can’t hide her anger much longer. “How are you acting like nothing happened? We--I-- I don’t love you! I don’t want you! What about that is so hard for you to understand?”

“Liar,” he hums in a sing-song tone, brow quirking as he meets your harsh stare cooly. “I don’t understand it because it’s a lie, sweetie. If I touched you right now your body would tell me the truth. But I already know it.” His face is smug. She wants to slap him.

“Just-- just because I might still be attracted to you doesn’t mean I would ever do anything with you again, Sylus. I have morals,” she spits.

In a red flash, he’s on top of her, a finger pressed into the center of her chest, other hand braced on the headboard. Her body convulses involuntarily in shock of his sudden proximity as well as the feeling of his skin-- even just his fingertip-- pressed against her.

He grins at her reaction. “That’s my girl.” 

“Get the fuck off me,” she hisses up at him. He lowers himself so his lips touch her earlobe, so his chest is pressed against hers. “No,” he whispers simply.

At this distance, she can see even more strikingly the weariness in his features. His skin is rough. His eyes are tired. There’s a small pimple on his cheek, a hint at the fact he must have been skipping his skincare routine that he’s always been so adamant about staying on top of.

For a moment she relishes in the thought that his undone-ness is because of her. Her instincts get the better of her, and she ensnares a fist in his sweater, pulling him down even lower, tilting her head to whisper in his ear, now--

“You look like shit. Are you sad about me?”

He reels back in surprise, eyes clouding for the first time with something other than smugness, brows momentarily twitching, betraying his facade. His hand wraps around her throat, holding her into the pillow, the touch gentle but forceful. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds her steady. His mask is on before she can double back.

“Can’t a man have an off day?” he chides her. “Maybe I haven’t slept so well. I was just on a long flight. Sue me.”

“Doesn’t look like it was just a day,” she responds instantly. “Looks like an off month. Are you finally regretting being a dick?”

He sneers, hand twitching around her throat, but he remains gentle. “I’m not a dick.”

“You are a huge fucking dick,” she spits back. He leans back off her, rising into a kneeling position, smirking down at her, releasing his hand from her neck It’s then she realizes she’s been holding her breath even though he hadn’t been choking her.

“Then why are you still lying here under me? If I’m such a dick?” 

“You’re just gonna use your Evol to put me back. It’s no use fighting you,” she retorts, but inwardly she knows she could have at least tried to struggle, shame rising in her stomach. 

“I’m not buying that, sweetheart.” He absentmindedly hooks a finger in the top of her uniform and pops the top button open with one hand. Her face flushes involuntarily at the gesture. “W-what are you doing?”

“Seeing how long it’ll take you to shove me off. If you really do hate me so much as you say.” He murmurs, finger sliding down to pop open another button. 

Her body freezes, her breath stilting into uneven inhales and exhales. It’s as if Sylus’ Evol is pinning her down, restraining her movement, but he isn’t-- he’s barely restraining her, only his finger on her body now, wrapping in the cleft of her shirt and undoing yet another button. Yet she can’t find the strength to move, eyes hazing over with the familiar lust she’s always had for him, and something further-- adoration, as she watches his face concentrated on her body. Even in this disheveled state he radiates, makes her heart swell against her will, beat hard and insistently like it’s pressing up against her ribs. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, leaning down slowly to kiss at her jaw, lips warm and soft. She chokes back a sigh, clenching her teeth at his touch but still inexplicably unable to move. “You know you want this.” She doesn’t respond, grappling with herself, memories of Zayne rearing, his soft and measured touches, in contrast to Sylus’ raw aggression. Finally, hearing Zayne’s voice in her head, she snaps herself out of her paralysis, hand coming up to push Sylus back, palm flat against his chest. “W-wait.”

He stops, eyes searching her face silently. “I--I--” she stammers, eyes wide, not able to get any words out. 

“Shh,” he murmurs, tracing a thumb across her lips. “I won’t make you ssay it.” He focuses on her, and then she feels heat flood her senses, a key sign he’s using his Evol again, in the other way. Her vision darkens, and she knows here, in this quiet black place he’s taking her, she can’t hide from him. It’s a place where she can only be honest. She feels her back arch as the feelings burst out of her-- I need it, I need you, make me yours, I miss you-- she feels a pang of relief that he’s removed the burden from her of saying it, of forcing her to betray herself, betray Zayne, out loud. But the shame eats away at her, corrosive like acid, as she looks into Sylus’ eyes, watching them glimmer as they decipher her hidden thoughts. 

Sylus focuses, attuned to her mind and body, feeling the words of her consciousness rush in as if uttered directly into his ears, proving what he already knew-- that he still has her wrapped around his finger. “Let me have you,” he purrs, fingers wrapping around yet another button.

Her resolve crumbles with her deepest desires surfaced by his Evol. He makes work quickly of the rest of the buttons, tearing open her shirt, exposing her bra. He growls at the sight,  eyes narrowing. 

“You want this... don’t you?”

Her response is choked in her throat, but manages to slip out despite her better judgment. “Yes,” she moans, and that’s all he needs to hear. His mouth meets her collarbone, sucking attentively. “Good,” he murmurs between kisses. “I’m not fond of sharing, you know.”

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she mutters, her body’s reaction to him involuntary (or so she convinces herself.) “I’m still not... your girlfriend, or anything like that. I don’t even like you.”

“Who said anything about you being my girlfriend?” He mutters, mouth working over her neck now. He smiles into her skin. “Ah. Do you think I came here to get you to be my girlfriend again?”

“No.” She snaps, blushing furiously, her hands landing on his arms that are braced on top of the mattress as he leans over her. “I didn’t say that. I’m just reiterating what should already be beyond clear to you.” “I’ll tell you what’s clear to me,” he murmurs, pulling back for a second, his deep blood-red eyes boring into hers. “What’s clear is... this Zayne guy doesn’t seem to be able to handle this beautiful gift he’s been given, and it seems like this gift herself knows she isn’t being cared for properly. Enjoyed properly.” He hooks a finger into her bra strap. “Or else it wouldn’t have taken her only five minutes to crumble.”

“I’m not going back to you,” she spits out. 

“You never left,” he says softly, a half smile rising on his chapped lips. 

Suddenly she’s being flipped onto her back, her face smothered in the pillow below her, the sensation of a cold hand gripping the back of her neck, fingers encircling it with practiced ease. His weight presses her down, pins her deep into the blankets. With his other hand he deftly unlatches her bra from the back, and then tugs off her pants, leaving her exposed with just her underwear on. She whimpers, feeling the air smooth over her hot skin. 

“He doesn’t do this for you, does he?” Sylus drawls, an arm snaking under her hips to pull her upward on her knees, his other hand still pressing her head and neck into the pillow. Her cheeks burn at this new position, knowing how vulnerable and bare she is. She stays silent, a flicker of anger mixing with desire. 

He roughly yanks down her panties, and before long she feels a calloused thumb between her wet folds. She bites into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar warmth of pleasure surges over her. She curses herself internally for letting herself become so pliant, so weak in his hands.

“Seems like I’ve got my answer,” he mutters, thumb pressing against her clit. She bites back a groan, teeth impaling her bottom lip. She can hear his usually stoic voice growing thicker and deeper with his own building arousal, a sound which only makes her feel weaker.

“Now sweetheart, I don’t have much time.” He bends down by her ear, leaning over her, hot breath sending a shiver down her body. “I’d love to take care of you slowly, bit by bit, but I wasn’t joking when I said I was here on business. I have some pressing matters to take care of that need my attention, after this... matter right here.” He slaps her ass, hard. She yelps, drawing a rough chuckle from his throat.

“I only have time for one round, unfortunately, so I’m going to ask for your input.” He purrs into her ear. “Don’t say anything else-- just be good, and answer my question. I don’t have time for your backtalk.” The flat of his hand smooths over the spot he slapped, sending bolts of heat through her abdomen. 

“Fingers, my mouth... or all of me inside you. Choose.” 

She tastes the tang of blood from where she’d bitten her lip earlier as she opens her mouth to speak, voice hoarse. She whispers something unintelligible into the pillow. 

“Speak up, love,” he murmurs, gently easing up his hold on the back of her neck. 

“All of you...” she mutters, embarrassment making her cringe, face pressed into the side of her pillow. 

Suddenly Sylus spots her bleeding lip, and his brows furrow for a moment. His hands scoop her up so that she’s positioned up off the pillow, on her knees, his chest to her back and arms securely around her waist. He uses one hand to tilt her chin up and to the side. “You’re bleeding, honey. Bit your lip?”

“What does it look like,” she responds gruffly, still not wanting to give him the pleasure of agreeable answers. His thumb skates across her bottom lip, dabbling in the blood there. She winces. “Were you trying to be quiet?” he murmurs, examining his thumb that’s now flecked with her blood. 

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, leaning down to kiss her softly, the metallic acrid tang of blood mixing between both their tongues. “Don’t do that,” he whispers softly into her lips. “I don’t want you to be quiet. You know that’s not what I like.” 

The moment is more intimate than the previous ones they’ve shared tonight, and for a moment she softens a bit, her heart giving an uncomfortable fluttery lurch at his kiss, at his gently murmured words. But the moment is gone quickly, and his hand finds the back of her neck again, fingers pressing into her skin. “Remind me of your choice?” He says through clenched teeth. 

“All.. all of you...” she says through a soft gasp. His face is so close to hers that all she can see is the slope of his jaw and a burning eye that’s trained on her bottom lip. 

He nods curtly, and then lays her back into the mattress, her face finding the pillow again, her back arching as he nudges her knees further apart, his own legs coming between hers. As she hears the sound of his belt buckle unfastening and his low, deep breaths, she feels the shame and regret already churning in her stomach as she lies there, spread and prostrate, waiting.

“Don’t think about him,” Sylus says darkly, as if he’s reading her mind. She feels his large, muscular hands grip her waist, as if to steady her mind, to bring her back to earth, back to this moment. “He’s not here right now. Think about me.”

She stifles a moan as his fingers drift between her legs again, spreading her wide open. Her throat feels tight, and her entire body is covered in goosebumps. She trembles in anticipation, unable to deny the feeling. 

“He won’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus snarls, his hand returning to her hips, digging into the flesh. His voice is angry this time, and then her eyes blow wide as he sheaths himself completely inside her in one sharp thrust. A strangled sound tears itself from her throat, a sound she hasn’t made in a long time. He stays there, back hunching over her, his arms shaking, his knuckles white as his fingers press bruises into the skin of her waist and hips. 

He starts, his pace brutal, and she can immediately detect something in the way he thrusts, in the way his hands are so rough as they move up to her breasts, gripping her from behind. Rage. His hips snap against her, sending nearly painful daggers of pleasure through her belly. She gasps each time he pistons in and out of her, unable to see him behind her, face still pressed into the pillow. “He can’t make you feel beautiful like this..” Sylus spits between grunts as he buries himself deep, again, again, again...

“Sylus,” she chokes out, eyes hazy with pleasure, the world around her vignetting, falling dramatically out of focus. “I want to see you-- let me turn over--” she babbles. 

He pulls out with a harsh grunt, and then flips her over onto her back at her request. She takes him in fully now, eyes raking over him, torso bare and sweater discarded on the nearby couch, his pants at his knees, his face contorted in a mess of lust and fury, glasses slipping lower and lower on his nose. It might be the most upset she’s ever seen him look, even more upset than when they’d broken up.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says harshly, gripping her hips again and aligning himself with her dripping entrance. 

“Like what--ah!” She hisses as he enters her, cutting the conversation short. He resumes his unrelenting pace, coming down to his elbows, inches of space between them as he ruts into her.

“Like you’re fucking examining me--” he sneers between thrusts. She protests, her hands finding his shoulders as she’s pulled deeper and deeper into pleasure. “I’m not examining-- hah... I’m just looking at y-” 

His hand clamps over her mouth. “Don’t talk,” he snarls. Her eyes widen. Something’s snapped in him, his demeanor different, whatever cold exterior he’d managed to build cracking undeniably now, revealing the twisted feelings layered underneath. His muscles ripple with unrestrained emotions, and sweat beads on his brow as he snaps his hips into her. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” he mutters. “I don’t want to hear that I look like shit. I don’t want to hear you ask me why I’m angry as if it’s some fucking surprise to you.” With each thrust it’s somehow more intense, the friction and heat between them growing exponentially. Her hands find his hips as he pistons into her, scrambling for purchase on flesh that’s now slick with sweat. “Of course I’m fucking angry,” he hisses. They’re face to face, inches apart. “I’m angry that-- you’re gone-- I can’t--” he lets out a strained noise that sounds almost like he’s in pain, his abs clenching as he holds himself back. “He can’t make you feel like this... he can’t...” 

His hand is still clamped over her mouth, and she breathes through her nose, the restriction of air making her heart speed up with adrenaline. He fucks her deep, and it takes more of a toll on him than she knows it should. The way he’s sweating, the way his face is still twisted with anger and anguish and desire, the way his free hand grips her waist possessively as he ruts into her-- it’s not the physical exertion making him act like this. He’s genuinely upset in a way that he’s never let her see before. “Sylus,” she pants, her orgasm building deep in her core, like a coil of fire. As if the noise triggers his memory that his hand is still over her mouth, he removes it suddenly, holding her waist instead. He looks away briefly, eyes finding where their bodies connect instead, eyes black with lust as he thrusts into her. She can see the way he’s starting to go quiet, the way his rhythm is staggering. She knows he’s close too. 

“Do you still love me?” He blurts out, still not meeting her eyes. 

She doesn’t expect the question, and she doesn’t know how to respond. She evaluates a thousand possible answers at once, her brain overloaded with pleasure and confusion. 

His head falls, weak, as he continues rutting into her. “P-please...” he says, his voice breaking. 

She’s stunned. Almost as a reflex, she sits up a bit, gaze lacing with a newfound concern. “Sy...?”

“Say it,” he groans, his pace becoming more erratic, the unpredictability of it driving new spikes of pleasure through her. “Say you--”

“I love you,” she whispers softly, before she can stop herself. “I love you, Sylus.”

His body hunches over as he comes, as if on command at her words, and her own orgasm follows quickly, her hands seizing the sheets for a moment in a brutal grip before latching on his waist again. She gasps, holding him close, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as she feels his warmth fill her, feels his body jerk with exertion and pleasure. Her hands find his face, cupping his jaw as he weakly thrusts himself through the aftershocks, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself upright over her. 

The moment flickers with a liminal quality, and she feels like she’s trapped in limbo, some hellish purgatory of confused emotions. She’s said those words she can’t take back now, and now the two of them are floating in the dead space, less than lovers, a lot more than friends. He’s weak in her arms now, completely undone, whatever mask he once wore in pieces, ground to dust under the weight of her confession. He lies there atop her for a minute that feels like an hour, as she strokes his hair, confused by her own tenderness but unable to hold it back. And then he tears himself away from her. He’s buttoning his pants, pulling on his sweater, wiping a wrist across his brow and readjusting his glasses. It’s as if they hadn’t done what they just did, like they’re strangers again. She lies there almost in shock still, attempting to cut through the foggy haze of afterglow and form more coherent thoughts.

“I have to go,” he mutters under his breath, his voice still betraying some of the turmoil in him. It’s softer than he usually sounds, and more uncertain. 

At his words, she snaps out of it. “Wait,” she blurts. “We-- we need to talk about this. You can’t just go after that!”

“I have to.” He says quickly, organizing his messy hair in the mirror. “Don’t have time.”

“Don’t have the time?!” She says incredulously. “You can’t treat this like some one night stand!”

“I never said that,” he mutters, looking at her. His eyes drift down her body, to her entrance, staring at the evidence of their encounter. She flushes, clamping her legs shut. Sylus clears his throat. “I never said it was,” he repeats. “I... I’ll call you. We can talk later.”

“When later?” she says hoarsely.

“When I can,” he replies, tone smoother now, regaining his usual  impassioned quality. She notices, and it pisses her off. “You can’t just do what you always do,” she snaps. “You can’t just run away again and act cold. Like this doesn’t matter.”

He pauses in the doorway, and exhales a small sigh. “It matters,” he says quietly. 

And then he’s gone.

[mariaofdoranelle]

You should stay in my good graces

Written for Rowaelin Month, songfic day @rowaelinscourt

Sabrina Carpenter once said: “Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete.”

Warnings: none I think? Some heavy petting but still safe for work lol

Words: 3,5k

Aelin Galathynius Seen At Football Game As Fans Continue To Wait For Album Release

“You do know he won’t want you for more than a night, right?” Lysandra asked while Aelin looked for Rowan Whitethorn at the afterparty with hawk-like precision.

“I hope so, yes,” she replied.

Aedion’s groan was loud even with the club’s music and hooting.

It shouldn’t be this hard to find the team captain at a game afterparty, but looking for someone she didn’t know in person wasn’t the best thing to do at crowded, massive, and poorly-lit nightclub.

Rowan Whitethorn. All she knew were his piercing green eyes that made her memorize his face even through a picture, and that he was a player in and out of the field. His reputation preceded him. The only thing Aelin could judge him was for how hot he is, though the media diagnosed him as an ‘incorrigible womanizer’ while experts called him the greatest football player of this generation.

And most importantly, her ex-boyfriend’s favorite active athlete.

“Are you sure you want to keep up with this?” Aedion asked, glancing between her and the crowd. “You weren’t even that into Chaol.”

Aelin sipped her margarita and shrugged. “This isn’t about my feelings towards him, it’s about his disrespect towards me.”

She knew her cousin well enough to know that he wasn’t comfortable leaving Aelin alone, half-drunk and mini-skirted at a bar filled with strangers, and Aedion knew her well enough to know she was carrying on with her plan anyway.

Lysandra proceeded to blabber about cultural differences between hot dogs from every country she’s been in with Aelin for this last tour, and Aedion ate it up with rapt attention. Aelin, however, looked around in a way her friend saw right through, feigning boredom to search for the one person she was here for tonight.

She couldn’t see everyone’s faces, but she could easily see how the crowd’s pattern shifted like the Red Sea parting for someone with a presence as strong as a team captain’s. Aelin saw people move and heads turn before seeing the man himself, and that’s how she found her target.

It was so easy to spot the difference between the moment he saw her from the moment he noticed her—a millisecond was enough to spot the blooming glint in the eyes of an archer who’s just found his prey.

The look of womanizer who’s just found a maneater in sheep’s clothing.

One, two—a slow smile—three, four. One polite tug and his gaze was drawn away, but she kept eye contact for long enough to get his attention.

“It’s done,” she told Lysandra and Aedion by the high bar table. Their reactions were much different—one excited, the other reluctant—but they knew it was their cue to leave.

Rowan knew where to find her, now all she had to do was wait. Aelin wasn’t so desperate she’d chase a man.

Her ex, Chaol, was never at these events to avoid his father—the CFO of one of the companies that sponsored the White Hawks—but that didn’t mean he didn’t love the sport. He watched every single game with Dorian, and Rowan Whitethorn’s autograph had a special spot in his hallway, among other framed signed jerseys from his favorite athletes.

Yes, Aelin googled every single one from that wall. The list wasn’t too big, and after crossing off every one that was dead or too old for her, the problematic ones, and the married ones… let’s say there was barely a list after what was supposed to be an initial selection, and she almost gave up on the plan. Aelin might be looking for someone to sleep with to get back at Chaol, but that didn’t mean she’d sleep with anyone just for the sake of revenge. Ew.

She got lucky that Chaol’s favorite athlete in their age group looked this cute.

One day, she’s going steady with her three-month long situationship; the next, her publicist calls her in the middle of a family dinner to tell her Chaol was caught looking way too cozy with another girl. They’d never discussed exclusivity in their relationship, so something they could’ve figured out in a conversation turned into something bigger because he was stupid enough to be photographed.

And if Aelin’s humiliation was public, Chaol’s payback would be too.

A hand on Aelin’s shoulder caught her attention—it was meant to only call her attention, but now the man kept a steady grasp on her that slid down to her elbow.

A pair of dark brown eyes assessed her with curiosity. “Aelin Galathynius,” he said, eyes now trailing down to the long stretch of exposed skin of her legs.

Aelin yanked her elbow back and was about to ask who this creep was, but didn’t get to it.

“Cairn.” She heard the name in a deep voice, but didn’t see his mouth move. A hand reached his shoulder from behind, and another man—the man she was looking for—stepped into their circle. He was even more magnetic up close.

“What.” Cairn said to his captain, terse.

“Coach wants to talk to you.”

“Is it about that foul?”

“Gotta ask him, man.”

Cairn gave Aelin one last look, then sighed and left off—resigned yet pissed.

Rowan took his time, alcohol-free beer in hand while he maintained a steady presence by her side. In that moment, Aelin decided that photoshop and celebrity takes did him no favors.

From the line between his brows the magazines smoothed out to that look he gave his teammate—not a disappointed-yet-resigned one with the politeness publicists groomed into public personas, but the look of a man who knew what he wanted, and wasn’t above bypassing his teammate in order to get it. The person she saw online was a polished version of the little part of the man she met now, and Aelin just happened to like him best rougher around the edges.

“Did he?” she said.

“Did he what?”

“Did Gavriel want to talk to him?”

Rowan smirked. Took a slow sip of his drink. “The thing about Coach Gav—if one of his players is there to listen, he always has an advice to give.”

He might as well have said ‘no’. Though he didn’t have to—even if Aelin wasn’t focused on taking Whitethorn to bed tonight, that Cairn person’s vibes were all off, she wouldn’t have given him any attention either way.

“I’m Rowan.”

“I know.” She giggled. “If I’m crashing a game afterparty, I should at least know the captain’s name.”

Not exactly crashing, since every man in her family was usually invited to this kind of sports thing, but this definitely wasn’t her scene.

“I think there’s a 50/50 chance you’re someone I should know,” he said with an apologetic expression.

She never found this offensive. When a good portion of the world was bombarded with Aelin’s name whether they want it or not, finding someone oblivious to her existence was somewhat refreshing.

“I’m Aelin.”

“Aelin,” he trailed with a faraway look in his eye. “Aelin, Aelin, Aelin…” The turning engines inside his head were clear as day until it clicked. “Aelin! From that Yulemas special, right?”

Aelin burst out laughing. She had been lucky enough throughout her career that none of her work could ever be called a ‘flop’, but that Yulemas special was the closest thing she had to it. The show was good enough and so was the viewership, but let’s say she did not sign up for another one the next year.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a confused, but mostly amused look.

“You’re the first person I meet that knows me because of that Yulemas special, that’s all.”

Rowan ducked his chin, and Aelin was sure that blush on his cheek was just the strobe lights tricking her eyes. “I don’t really keep up with social media, or celebrity stuff… or anything that isn’t work, actually. But my cousins put that show on every Yulemas dinner.”

Aelin grinned. “That’s sweet.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself because the song shifted to something even louder, and the crowd erupted in cheers. When it subsided, he leaned closer and said, “Can I take you to a booth upstairs?”

Aelin reared back to read his face. “Just a booth?” she asked with one brow quirked up.

“Just a private booth.”

A slow smirk danced on her lips. “Lead the way, then.”

Rowan pointed to the general direction they were going and trailed behind her, but his hand found her back and stayed there when he noticed the sets of eyes following Aelin around the club—marking his territory.

However, they came to an abrupt stop when one of his teammates quite literally ran their way.

“Rowie!” Moonbeam shouts, trying to get Rowan’s attention. “D’you have spare pants?”

The man stared, motionless. “What?”

His teammate turned around and pointed at the ripped seam on his bottom that exposed his underwear. “Got an extra pair or not?”

“How in hell did you—“

“It’s the DJ’s fault!”

Partying too hard, then. Aelin didn’t know Fenrys Moonbeam personally, but he was known to keep it as classy as a wannabe D-lister at their first Grammy afterparty—except he was a world-class athlete.

The man’s eyes widened when he finally noticed Aelin, and he pointed at his butt again and said, “Can you sew this for me?”

“Dude.” Rowan cut him off, eyes hard as steel.

“What?”

“Seriously?”

“What did I do?”

“That’s fucking sexist, man.”

Fenrys gaped. He looked between her and Rowan, then flailed his arms in an empty gesture, fumbling to articulate himself. “I didn’t just see a chick and ask her to sew, she went to fashion school!”

Rowan blinked, then sent her a confused look.

“I did,” Aelin said between giggles. “Find me a thread and needle and I’ll fix it.”

Fenrys went off with his new quest, and Rowan took her upstairs. When Aelin asked him about his friend finding them again, he just grumbled something about ‘the boyo’ always finding him whether Rowan wants it or not.

The private booths were much more comfortable—with softer music and table service, the atmosphere was quite different from the dance floor’s madness.

“I really need to write a new single if the Yulemas show and fashion school is what I’m being referenced for these days,” Aelin said after they were settled.

Rowan oh-so-smoothly sneaked his arm around her. “That’s what you’re doing now? Writing?”

“Writing feels like a too-strong word for what I’m doing now,” she said with a slight grimace. “Let’s say I’m torturing my piano while my manager sends me contacts to write it all for me and get the album out in time.”

He frowned. “Can you do that? Hire other people to write it for you, I mean.”

Aelin laughed—she didn’t mean to, it just tore out of her. He was so oblivious to her line of work, it was endearing.

Rowan just picked another one of his alcohol-free beer, not seeming to be offended about her reaction. “That’s also public knowledge I’m clueless about, isn’t it?”

Aelin bit her lower lip and gave him an amused look that hopefully was answer enough. Then held both hands up and said, “Look, all I know about football is that the ball goes in the goal, and I look cute in your team’s colors. Nothing else.” She tapped the side of her head. “Nada.”

“That can’t be true.” His face was an inch closer to hers now.

“Maybe I need some teaching,” she whispered, eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips.

This. This is where he slips. This is how Aelin finds the first red flag before he lured her into his lips. Because red flags are the trail of breadcrumbs she leaves to not lose herself in a man, and she needed them more than anything now that she was enjoying herself too much for a revenge plan. Please, big hot guy, please mansplain to me your favorite sport.

Instead, he held her neck—the goosebumps down her body were due to the cold temperature, she was sure—and murmured back, “But I doubt you want to learn now.”

Oh, shit. Before her mind even registered it, she held his cheek and tugged his lips into hers, the soft feel of his pillowy—

“Rowie!” They heard Fenrys before he was in their sight, kiss broken—half-kiss, actually. The man sighed when he found their booth and plopped on the seat next to Aelin, sandwiching her between the two players.

“Turns out management keeps an emergency sewing kit,” he said, baffled. “Can you believe it?”

“I really can’t,” Rowan grumbled.

“Now if you excuse me… Aelin, could you…?” Fenrys trailed, pointing at the wall.

She complied and stared at the wall until granted permission to look back. When she did, Fenrys held his pants with one hand and a towel around his hips with another.

She grabbed the piece of clothing and did a quick work of it. Her days of fashion school were long gone, but muscle memory got her on it like time wasn’t even a thing.

Rowan still looked a bit grumpy about Fenrys’ intrusion, but she didn’t blame him. They kinda got cockblocked, but Whitethorn’s was kinda doing it for her.

“How did you even know she went fashion school?” he asked.

It was public knowledge about her, but the kind not even the casual fans knew. And if Rowan was asking, his teammate must not be a die-hard fan.

Fenrys smirked at Aelin. “I memorize a few random facts about you to impress the ladies.”

Aelin chuckled and playfully rolled her eyes. She knew this move existed, but no one that used it had been so bold to say it to her face.

She handed the pair of pants back to Fenrys, and kept her eyes closed while he put it back on and blabbered something about his brother mocking him forever after this.

“I think we all will, Boyo,” Rowan said. “Now get lost.”

“Thanks, Aelin!” he said with a salute on his way out. “I’m streaming your next album so hard—it’ll be another #1!”

Aelin groaned and sagged back on her seat, but only Rowan was there to see it.

“Are you really triggered by any mention of your next album?”

She shrugged. “Nah, just being dramatic.” Aelin put her hands on his shoulders, slowly so she’d feel his pecs on her way up. “But I’d feel better if you didn’t speak at all.”

His lips met hers for another kiss, and it tore into her bloodstream like discovering a new favorite melody, his mouth on hers as he tilted her head to taste her better. Aelin ran her fingers through the short strands of his hair while Rowan tugged her body closer, ran his fingers over the exposed skin of her legs.

A miniskirt wasn’t the most practical attire, but it did prevent her from being stupid sometimes—if it wasn’t for the looming threat of accidentally flashing the whole VIP section of the club, Aelin would be in Rowan’s lap by now.

Rowan grabbed the hair by her nape to allow him space on her neck, and Aelin just shut her eyes closed to let that man and his wicked mouth draw every shiver he wanted out of her. With his hands on her body and his lips on her neck, she let her guard down and allowed him something she rarely gave other men—consent to play her like his favorite instrument, walls as down as her panties if this was his way of taking control.

His trail of kisses went upwards, from her collarbone to her ear. “I was thinking—“

“You’re really hot and all, but I don’t sneak into club bathrooms.”

The low rumble of his throat as he chuckled was so sinful Aelin felt it between her thighs. “I don’t drink Dom Pérignon in plastic cups, baby.” Rowan whispered, his breath fanning her ear in a maddening way. “And I like to savor it—let the taste linger on my tongue.”

All her thoughts vanished. Aelin only had half a mind to ask, “You drive?”

She’d come with Aedion, wherever he is now.

“Sure,” he said. “Let me just…” Rowan grabbed a napkin to remove the lipstick that was supposed to be kiss-proof—it did a better job than most, but it still smudge his cupid’s bow and bottom lip.

“That’s Pat McGrath, babe. You’ll need it surgically removed.”

Rowan frowned. “Pat McAfee?”

Their exit was quite different from when they entered the VIP section. Rowan’s possessive-yet-polite grasp on her fully left the latter part, greedily taking hold of her on their way out. He also brushed aside two teammates that sought him, likely afraid of being interrupted by them like Moonbeam did.

The valet was already outside with his car when Rowan noticed the paparazzi outside. He looked at them and back at Aelin, brows furrowed in thought.

“I usually just go,” he said, sounding unsure. “What do you usually— what do you want me to do?”

“I’m a big girl. Let’s do this.” Aelin squared her shoulders and quickly fixed her hair.

The flashes were a dizzying contrast to the club’s dark ambience, but Rowan kept her steady with one hand protectively on her back, trying and failing to shield her from the onslaught of cameras.

He opened the passenger door for her and ran to the driver’s side, and soon the madness faded out, leaving just the two of them and the soft music on the radio.

As the mood settled and the city lights became blurs around them, it dawned on Aelin that she was about to be unwrapped, bended and spread out by a man who was too dreamy for his own good—the worst kind in the long run.

What was she doing? Aelin wasn’t even the one-night stand type—she wasn’t used to long relationships either, but that wasn’t the point. The “incriminating” pictures of her with Rowan were taken and out soon, and Chaol—whose existence she completely forgot about—would be pissed already.

Aelin steadied herself for what she was about to do, red flag on the floor for him to pick up and wave once she did it.

“I have a counteroffer.”

“Do tell.”

“You drop me off at my apartment on Goldryn St, and I’ll see you around.”

If Rowan was pissed or offended, he didn’t show. Instead, he quickly studied her expression, a bit confused, but once her face didn’t waver, he gave his car screen a pointed look and asked her to type her address in the GPS.

Aelin did vow that she would never settle for anything less than a green flag collector, she didn’t know why it was so unsettling to see one live.

Not that she would settle anytime soon, it was just something that crossed her mind.

Even if she was willing to have a fling with Rowan, she didn’t regret turning him down tonight. If a man wasn’t willing to chase a girl he fancied, what was he chasing in life?

The car pulled up at the building’s entrance, empty except for the doorman by the glass doors. No paps in sight.

Rowan’s jaw fell. “This is too peaceful, even for a spare home.”

“That’s actually my dad’s apartment, for when he has a late work night and doesn’t feel like making the drive home.”

No doubt Aelin’s own home would be absolute mayhem after tonight, that’s why her dad left his safe haven at her disposal.

“Your dad…?”

“He’s in politics.”

Rowan’s face contorted into a grimace, earning him a laugh from her.

“But we don’t wanna ruin our goodbyes by talking politics, do we?” she said.

“Absolutely not.”

Rowan jumped from his seat and circled his car to open the passenger door for her and gave her a hand to help her stand up. Except he didn’t let go. He kept her hand gently yet firmly clutched to his and brought it to his lips, giving her knuckles a chivalrous kiss while his eyes looked borderline devilish.

“I’ll see you around?” he asked, repeating her exact words from the ‘counteroffer’.

She grinned. “I’ll see you around.”

Aelin walked the few steps to the building, but stopped before the front door and turned to take a glimpse of him. Rowan stayed leaned against his car, arms crossed while he waited for her to walk in.

She wiggled her fingers at him over her shoulder with a sweet smile and watched his serene grin turn sly.

Aelin saw right through his chivalry, the dangerous promise hidden beneath looking near transparent to her eyes.

Aelin Galathynius Watches With Rowan Whitethorn Play Amid Chaol Westfall Breakup Rumors

Aelin Galathynius’ Fans Spot ‘Lipstick Smudge’ On Rowan Whitethorn After White Hawks’ Afterparty

Rowan Whitethorn Follows Aelin Galathynius On Instagram After Rendezvous With The Singer!

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[reveriebae]

Love Overdose

pairing(s) : Park Seonghwa x reader

word count : 7946

genre : smut

summary : seonghwa’s been burned before and swears he’ll never fall for anyone again. But when he meets you, he decides to make you fall for him first—playing mind games, teasing you, and letting you get obsessed. Only then will he let himself care.

warning(s) : dom!Seonghwa, sub! reader, Seonghwa is pushing and pulling, unprotected sex, begging, oral, cunnilingus(?), slight hand job, edging, creampie. Let me know if I missed something!

Part of Songfic

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

It started subtly—just enough to get under your skin without you realizing it.

Seonghwa had always been careful, always in control. Love had ruined him before, and he had sworn never to let himself fall first again. But when he saw you for the first time, something shifted. A spark. An ache. A temptation.

He refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he turned it into a game.

At first, he was polite—charming in that effortless way that made him so damn magnetic. He wasn’t too obvious, never too eager. He let you come to him. And when you did, when you found yourself drawn in by the way he spoke, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long, he gave you just enough to make you want more.

The first time he called you late at night, his voice was smooth, dripping into your ear like honey. “Can’t sleep?” he murmured, low and intimate.

You didn’t even question why he was calling you. It felt natural—Seonghwa had a way of making things feel that way. You talked for hours, your laughter soft, your voice laced with sleep. And just when you started to feel comfortable, just when your heart started to flutter at the sound of his deep, soothing voice, he ended the call with a teasing chuckle.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

The next day? He barely acknowledged you.

You caught glimpses of him—passing by in the hallway, standing with friends, laughing at something on his phone. But he never looked your way. Never acted like he had spent the night making you feel special.

It made no sense.

The second call came a few nights later.

“Missed me?” His tone was playful, edged with something darker.

You had missed him, though you wouldn’t admit it. He spoke to you like you were the only person in the world, his voice warm, teasing, addictive. He asked about your day, hummed in amusement at your stories, flirted just enough to make your stomach flip.

But again—when you saw him the next day? Nothing. Not a glance, not a word.

It drove you insane.

You didn’t understand it. Every time he spoke to you, you felt like he was pulling you deeper, making you feel something real. But then he shut you out like none of it ever happened. It was like he wanted you on the edge of something—something just out of reach.

And the worst part? It was working.

You started thinking about him more than you should. Wondering when he’d call again. Replaying his words in your mind. Craving his attention, even when you told yourself you didn’t care.

Seonghwa could see it. He could see the way you started watching him when you thought he wouldn’t notice. The way you hesitated before walking past him, waiting—hoping—he would acknowledge you.

He smirked to himself.

You were already getting hooked.

And he hadn’t even touched you yet.

The first time you confronted him, Seonghwa nearly laughed.

You had been patient—painfully so. But patience had limits, and yours had finally snapped.

He was leaning against the wall in the dimly lit hallway, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world. That same air of effortless confidence, that infuriating calmness. Like he hadn’t been calling you late at night, whispering things that made your heart race. Like he hadn’t been slowly pulling you deeper into whatever twisted game he was playing.

You marched straight up to him, your hands clenched at your sides. “What the hell is your problem?”

Seonghwa barely looked up.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his thumb lazily scrolling across his screen.

That infuriating, dismissive reaction made your blood boil.

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me,” you snapped, stepping closer. “You call me in the middle of the night, you talk like—like I actually mean something to you, and then you act like I don’t even exist during the day? What kind of sick game are you playing?”

Seonghwa finally lifted his gaze, dark eyes locking onto yours. There it was—that look. Amusement. Amusement at you. Like he had been waiting for this moment. Like he wanted you to get mad.

His lips curled into a slow smirk. “Oh?” he mused, pushing his phone into his pocket. He tilted his head slightly, watching you like a predator watches its prey. “You’ve been thinking about me that much, sweetheart?”

Your stomach twisted.

You had walked straight into his trap.

The realization hit too late. Seonghwa was already moving, stepping into your space with that unbearable confidence, that smooth, deliberate grace that made your pulse stutter.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he murmured, his voice just low enough to make your breath hitch.

You took a step back instinctively, but his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs.

Seonghwa studied you for a moment, his grip light but firm. His thumb brushed against your skin absently, almost like he was testing something. Testing you.

And then, as if he hadn’t just trapped you against the wall, as if he hadn’t just sent your mind spiraling into chaos—he let go.

Stepped back.

Shrugged.

“Relax, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “I was just having a little fun.”

He turned to walk away.

Your nails dug into your palms.

Seonghwa paused, glancing over his shoulder. That smirk was still there, sharp and knowing. “Don’t be too upset, sweetheart.” His voice dropped just enough to make your skin prickle. “I’ll call you tonight.”

Then he was gone.

And you were left standing there—seething, confused, and somehow, desperately waiting for your phone to ring.

That night, you hated yourself for how quickly you reached for your phone the moment it buzzed.

His name flashed on the screen. Seonghwa.

You hesitated. You shouldn’t answer. You should make him wait this time, make him feel the same frustration he put you through. But your fingers moved before your brain could catch up, swiping the call open.

You pressed the phone to your ear. “…What?”

A low chuckle. “Aww, sweetheart. You sound upset.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Slow, rich, dripping with amusement. Like he already knew exactly how much you had been thinking about him.

You gritted your teeth. “I should hang up.”

“But you won’t.”

Your breath hitched.

There was a rustling sound on his end, like he was shifting, settling in somewhere comfortable. “You’ve been waiting for my call, haven’t you?” His voice dropped, honey-smooth. “Spent all day thinking about me?”

You refused to answer.

Seonghwa hummed. “That’s cute.”

Your grip tightened around the phone. “You’re an asshole.”

“Mmm. Am I?” A soft exhale, almost like a sigh. “But I bet you’re in bed right now. Lying there, holding your phone with both hands, trying not to admit how much you wanted to hear my voice.”

Your pulse stuttered.

“Tch.” He made a small, mocking sound. “I bet you look so pretty like that.”

Your breath grew uneven. You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Why are you calling me, Seonghwa?”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, like he was enjoying this far too much.

“I told you, sweetheart.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, deep and smooth, seeping into you like a drug. “I just like having a little fun.”

You clenched your jaw. “This isn’t fun for me.”

“No?” He tsked. “Then why haven’t you hung up?”

Your fingers twitched.

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

Then his voice dropped even lower, dark and deliberate.

“Be honest, baby.” The way he said it—baby—made your stomach flip. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your lips parted.

You should say yes. You should.

But you didn’t.

Another chuckle. “That’s what I thought.”

He let the silence linger, letting his words settle in, letting the tension coil around you like a vice. Then, just as you felt like you might drown in it, he spoke again—soft, teasing, devastating.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

And then the line went dead.

You stared at your screen, your heart hammering against your ribs.

You hated him.

You wanted him.

And worst of all?

He knew it.

The next day, you swore you wouldn’t fall for it again.

You wouldn’t check your phone every five minutes.

You wouldn’t let him get to you.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

And yet, the moment you spotted Seonghwa across the room, your stomach twisted into knots.

He was leaned back in his chair, legs spread casually, one arm draped over the backrest, looking as effortless as ever. His long fingers tapped absently against his knee, his lips quirked in that same unreadable smirk. He wasn’t even looking at you.

Like last night had never happened.

Like he hadn’t spent the entire call pulling you deeper, making your breath hitch, leaving you burning with frustration and something else—something you didn’t want to admit.

Your nails dug into your palms. Asshole.

You forced yourself to ignore him, to act like you didn’t care either. But then, as you passed by, something shifted.

You felt it before you saw it—the weight of his gaze, slow and deliberate, dragging over you like a touch.

You refused to look at him.

But then, just as you reached the door—

“Y/N.”

His voice was smooth, rich, curling around your name like a secret. It sent a shiver straight down your spine.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned to face him.

Seonghwa’s eyes met yours, dark and unreadable. He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling at the corners. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“You forgot something.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

He leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand, his gaze locking onto yours. The way he looked at you—it wasn’t playful, it wasn’t teasing. It was intentional. Calculated.

And then—his lips parted, and his voice dropped to that devastating, intimate murmur.

“You didn’t say goodnight.”

Your breath caught.

Heat rushed to your face, your chest tightening with something sharp, something infuriatingly needy.

The audacity. The absolute nerve of him.

Your jaw clenched. You opened your mouth to snap at him, to say something—anything—but his smirk deepened. Like he was waiting for it. Like he wanted you to lose control.

You refused.

Instead, you straightened your spine, forced your expression into something neutral, and turned on your heel without another word.

You didn’t see it, but behind you—

Seonghwa chuckled under his breath.

Hook.

Line.

Sinker.

The days blurred together in a haze of tension. You tried to keep your distance, tried to act indifferent, but Seonghwa’s presence was like a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist. Every glance from him, every teasing word, set something off in you. Your patience was wearing thin, and you knew it.

And then it happened.

You were sitting in the quiet, dimly lit café, attempting to distract yourself with your phone, pretending that nothing he’d said or done had affected you. You were fine. You were so much better than this.

Then, the door chimed as it opened, and the very air seemed to shift.

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

Seonghwa.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you the moment he entered, the way his presence seemed to fill up the space, making everything else around you feel insignificant. You resisted the urge to look up. You kept your focus on your phone, acting casual, but it was like you could sense him drawing closer.

And then—his voice.

“I thought you’d be here.”

You finally looked up, your heart giving an involuntary skip at the sight of him standing there. He was leaning casually against the table, his hand brushing lightly against your shoulder as he glanced down at you, that smirk of his playing at the edges of his lips.

You swallowed, trying to keep the annoyance in check. “What do you want?”

Seonghwa’s eyes darkened just the slightest bit, his gaze locking onto yours. “I wanted to see you, sweetheart.” His voice was low, seductive, like he was savoring each word. “Is that a problem?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “No, just... annoying.”

He chuckled. “I like when you’re annoyed.” His finger brushed against the edge of your cup, tracing the rim slowly. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

You shook your head, half-tempted to leave the café entirely, but the thought of walking away, of letting him win that easily, burned too much.

Seonghwa leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “What’s the matter? Did I make you miss me, sweetheart?” His voice was almost a whisper, sending a shiver down your spine.

The proximity, his voice, the way he was so effortlessly close—it made your mind whirl. “You think you have that power over me?” You whispered, heart racing, feeling caught between the desire to push him away and the urge to pull him closer.

Seonghwa’s lips curled into that familiar smirk, but this time, there was something darker beneath it. “I know I do.”

And then he was gone. Just like that. He turned and walked away, leaving you there, trying to catch your breath, the weight of his words pressing against your chest.

The game was far from over. In fact, it had just begun.

The next few days felt like you were stuck in a loop, and Seonghwa was the center of it all. The more you tried to ignore him, the more he seemed to slip into your mind, infiltrating every thought, every breath. His words, his smirk, the way he looked at you with that cocky confidence—it haunted you, gnawed at the edges of your sanity.

And then, on one of those nights, when the air was thick with tension and the world felt too quiet, your phone buzzed again.

His name flashed across the screen.

You stared at it for a moment, debating whether or not to pick up. You had sworn you wouldn’t do this again. You wouldn’t fall for it.

But a part of you... wanted to.

With a sigh, you answered. “What now, Seonghwa?”

His voice greeted you almost immediately, smooth and lazy, like he’d been waiting for you to pick up. “I’m thinking about you.”

Your breath caught at the directness of it. You cursed yourself for the way your heart fluttered, for how easily you let him get under your skin.

“What’s new?” You tried to sound indifferent, but it came out breathless, like you were already unraveling.

He chuckled softly on the other end, his tone dripping with amusement. “Oh, it’s new, sweetheart.” His voice dropped lower, quieter. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot... in ways I shouldn’t.”

Your breath hitched. You felt your pulse race at the words, a mixture of confusion and something dangerously close to excitement curling in your stomach.

“And what ways are those?” you forced out, trying to sound unaffected, but failing miserably.

He was silent for a moment, the air between you thick with anticipation. And then—“In ways that make me want to break every rule I’ve set for myself.” His words were slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the effect they were having on you. “You think I don’t know how much you crave this? How badly you want me to touch you... feel me against you...”

Your fingers trembled as you gripped the phone tighter, trying to steady yourself. But every word he said, every inch of his voice seemed to tear down the walls you’d built around yourself.

“You want me to make you beg, don’t you?” Seonghwa’s voice was a whisper now, the air between you so thick you could almost feel him beside you. “To make you desperate... because I know you are. You’ve been desperate for me since the moment we met.”

A sharp breath left your lungs before you could stop it, the heat of his words searing through you. You wanted to say something, anything, to push him away, but it was like your mouth had gone dry.

Seonghwa’s laugh was low, dark, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You swallowed, the words dying in your throat.

He wasn’t waiting for an answer. He never did. His voice slid over you again, more sensual now, more demanding. “I think it’s time you stop pretending you don’t want me.” His words were practically dripping with heat. “Stop pretending you don’t want me to do everything I said I would. To make you mine.”

Your heart slammed in your chest, and the desperation you’d been hiding deep inside you bubbled to the surface, uncontrollable.

“Seonghwa...” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” His tone had shifted, the sweet, teasing layer now stripped away. There was something darker now, something that promised consequences. “You want me to come to you? To take you?”

Your skin burned at the thought, but you didn’t have the strength to deny it.

“Yes...” you whispered, feeling your chest tighten.

Seonghwa exhaled sharply, the sound almost like a growl. “I knew it.” The words were a mixture of satisfaction and something dangerous. “I’m going to make you regret ever pretending you could resist me.”

You felt the words hit you like a wave, crashing over you in a force you couldn’t fight. The tension, the craving, the maddening desire you’d been hiding from—it all snapped.

You wanted him. And he knew it.

The silence that followed was unbearable. Your body was hot, your mind clouded, and every second that ticked by only made it worse. Seonghwa had left you hanging, lingering in that space between wanting and needing, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

You gripped your phone tighter. "Seonghwa..." You tried again, your voice smaller this time, laced with frustration.

A soft chuckle, smooth and taunting. "Hmm?"

You swallowed. Your pride was slipping fast, and you hated how easy it was for him to pull it from you. "Are you coming or not?"

Seonghwa hummed like he was thinking about it, like he was weighing the decision. "I don’t know, sweetheart." His voice was dripping with amusement. "I think I like you like this. Flushed, restless... waiting for me."

Your stomach twisted, frustration bubbling into something closer to desperation. "You’re cruel."

Another chuckle, deeper this time. "Oh, but you like that, don’t you? You like when I make you wait. When I make you beg."

Your breath hitched.

“Say it, baby. Tell me how bad you want me.”

You clenched your jaw, fists curling in the sheets. It was infuriating how easily he unraveled you, how much control he had over your thoughts, your body. But you needed him. More than you wanted to admit.

And he wasn’t going to let you have him until you did.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I want you."

“Louder.”

Your fingers trembled around the phone. Your heart was racing. "I need you, Seonghwa."

A sharp inhale from his end. And then, something shifted. His voice dipped lower, silkier, more dangerous.

"Good girl."

A click.

The line went dead.

And your breath caught when you heard a knock at your door.

You barely had time to gather yourself before another knock echoed through the room. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you pushed off the bed, your legs feeling weak before you even reached the door.

When you opened it, Seonghwa was there, leaning against the frame, his eyes dark and unreadable. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The heat in his gaze alone sent a shiver straight down your spine.

Before you could say anything, his hand was on your waist, pushing you back inside with a slow, deliberate step. The door shut behind him with a soft click, sealing you both into the tension-thick room.

His fingers trailed up your arm, featherlight, teasing. "Took you long enough to say it, sweetheart."

You swallowed hard. "You’re the one who made me wait."

Seonghwa hummed, tilting his head as he stepped closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. "Mm. And yet, look at you." His fingers lifted to your jaw, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. "So ready for me. Just like I knew you'd be."

Your breath hitched. His scent—clean, intoxicating—wrapped around you, and his presence was overwhelming, swallowing you whole. You felt small beneath him, like you were melting under the weight of his gaze alone.

“Seonghwa—”

He cut you off with a slow press of his lips to your temple, lingering just long enough for your body to tremble. "Shh, sweetheart. I want to take my time with you."

His hands trailed down your sides, fingertips tracing over your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt. "You wanted this, didn’t you?" His voice was smooth, knowing. "Say it again."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. But you couldn't hold back anymore.

"I need you."

Seonghwa’s breath ghosted over your skin as he exhaled, satisfied. His lips curled into a smirk against your jaw before he whispered, "Then let me ruin you."

Seonghwa’s fingers brushed over the fabric of your clothes, slow, deliberate. Every touch was designed to make you shiver, to make you feel helpless under his hands. His lips hovered just over yours, his breath warm, teasing.

But he didn’t kiss you.

Instead, he smirked as he tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. “You’re already shaking, sweetheart. We haven’t even started.”

You let out a frustrated whimper, gripping the front of his shirt. "Seonghwa..."

He chuckled, low and dark, completely unfazed. "What is it, baby? Use your words." His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, pressing in just enough to make you part your mouth slightly. "Tell me exactly what you want."

Your body was burning, the tension unbearable. He was so close, his hands touching, teasing, but never giving you what you needed.

“Kiss me,” you finally breathed, voice trembling.

Seonghwa exhaled a soft laugh. "So desperate already?" He leaned in, lips just brushing against yours—but before you could press forward, he pulled back, his smirk widening.

You whimpered again, frustration bubbling over. “Stop teasing...”

His fingers traced over your waist, slipping beneath your shirt, just barely skimming your heated skin. "Oh, baby... teasing is the best part."

Your hands clutched his shoulders, trying to pull him in, but he was stronger. His grip tightened around your wrists, pinning them above your head against the wall.

“Try again,” he murmured, his voice velvet-smooth. “Ask properly.”

Your breath was ragged, body arching against him as you bit your lip, struggling against the ache he had built inside you.

“Please, Seonghwa.”

His expression darkened, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. His fingers squeezed your wrists just a bit tighter. “Please what?”

You swallowed, throat dry. He was going to make you say it.

“Please... touch me.”

Seonghwa hummed, like he was considering it. His knee slid between your thighs, pressing just barely enough to make your legs tremble. “That’s a start.”

Then—finally—his lips crashed onto yours.

The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was starving, all tongue and teeth, like he had been waiting for this just as long as you had. His grip on your wrists tightened as he pushed you further against the wall, pressing his body fully against yours.

You moaned into his mouth, legs threatening to give out. He growled softly at the sound, swallowing it greedily as he deepened the kiss.

His free hand slipped lower, fingertips teasing along your thighs before he gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him. "Fuck, you feel so good against me," he murmured against your lips.

Your head spun as his kisses trailed lower, down your jaw, your neck, his tongue flicking against your skin just to hear you gasp. "I love how easily you melt for me," he murmured against your pulse point. "So obedient when you're desperate."

You whimpered again, arching into him, but he still wasn’t giving you enough.

“More,” you breathed, your voice breaking.

Seonghwa chuckled, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. "Say it again, baby."

You clenched your fists, shaking in frustration. "More. Please, more—"

He exhaled a sharp breath, his fingers finally slipping beneath your waistband, teasing at the heat waiting for him.

"Good girl."

Seonghwa’s fingers dipped lower, teasing over your heat, his touch featherlight—too light. You gasped, hips jerking forward, but he only chuckled, his grip tightening on your waist to keep you still.

"So needy," he murmured against your skin, his lips tracing the sensitive curve of your neck. "You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? Thinking about it? Thinking about me?"

Your breath hitched.

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours as his fingers traced slow, lazy circles right over where you needed him most. "Tell me, sweetheart. Did you touch yourself, thinking about me?"

Your face burned, shame creeping up your spine, but your body betrayed you, hips rolling toward his touch.

Seonghwa smirked. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Then, without warning, he pushed his fingers deeper, pressing firmly against the damp fabric covering you. Your back arched, a sharp moan slipping from your lips, and his smirk widened.

"Fuck, you’re soaked," he muttered, voice low and rough. "All this just for me?"

You nodded frantically, but that wasn’t enough for him.

"Use your words."

Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. "Yes—Seonghwa, please—"

"Please what, baby?" He moved his fingers just slightly, rubbing slow, teasing strokes over your heat, keeping you teetering right on the edge.

Your whole body was trembling now, your mind fogged over with need. "Please... don’t tease."

Seonghwa clicked his tongue. "But you look so pretty when you beg."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down in one slow, torturous motion. His lips brushed against your ear, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Let’s see how much more you can take, hmm?"

Then, before you could even catch your breath, he dropped to his knees.

The sight alone nearly made you break. Seonghwa, looking up at you with dark, hungry eyes, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you steady. His breath was warm against your skin as he pressed soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs, deliberately avoiding where you needed him most.

Your legs shook, fingers threading into his hair, tugging slightly. "Seonghwa—please—"

He exhaled a sharp breath, his hands tightening around your thighs. "You sound so fucking sweet when you beg, baby."

Then, finally—finally—his lips met your core.

The first swipe of his tongue was slow, languid, savoring you like he had all the time in the world. Your body jerked at the sensation, a strangled moan escaping before you could stop it.

Seonghwa groaned softly against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure up your spine. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you in place as his tongue flicked against your clit, relentless and precise.

You gasped, your head falling back against the wall. "Oh—fuck—Seonghwa—"

He hummed in response, his tongue pressing harder, working you open, drinking in every sound you made like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Your legs trembled, the pleasure building too fast, too intense. You tried to shift, to run from the overwhelming sensation, but Seonghwa wasn’t letting you go anywhere.

"Stay still, baby," he muttered against you, his voice thick with lust. "Take what I give you."

You cried out as he sucked harder, his tongue flicking mercilessly over your most sensitive spot. Your whole body tensed, the coil in your stomach tightening dangerously.

"S-Seonghwa—"

He pulled back slightly, his lips slick and glistening, his breath heavy against your skin. "You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?"

You nodded frantically, barely able to form words.

Seonghwa smirked. "Then do it. Come undone for me."

Then his mouth was on you again, working you over with devastating precision, pushing you closer, closer—

Until you broke.

Your whole body tensed, back arching as pleasure crashed over you in waves, a sharp cry slipping from your lips. Seonghwa groaned against you, holding you through it, dragging out every last tremor until you were nothing but a trembling mess in his hands.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were curled into a wicked smirk. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"You taste even sweeter than I imagined," he murmured.

Then, slowly, he rose to his feet, towering over you once again. His hands gripped your waist, steadying you as he pressed his lips to your ear.

"And I’m not done with you yet."

Your body was still trembling, breath shallow, mind spinning, but Seonghwa? He was completely in control—calm, composed, devastatingly sexy.

His lips were still wet, glistening with the evidence of what he had just done to you. His tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, swiping over the corner of his mouth like he was savoring the taste. And God, the way he looked at you.

Dark, hooded eyes filled with hunger. That smug, knowing smirk curling at the edges of his mouth. He knew what he had done to you. Knew you were utterly wrecked, shaking, barely able to stand. And he loved it.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction. His fingers ghosted over your flushed skin, sending shivers through your already-weak body. "Completely undone... all because of me."

Your eyes flickered over him, drinking him in. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his tongue ran over his lips, the way his black shirt stretched over his lean, sculpted torso. Even the way he stood—towering over you, exuding raw, effortless dominance—had your stomach twisting into knots all over again.

"So fucking beautiful," you whispered before you could stop yourself.

Seonghwa stilled.

Then—slowly—his lips curved into a smirk, something dark flickering in his gaze.

"Say that again."

Heat crawled up your neck, but you couldn’t look away from him. "You’re beautiful."

Seonghwa exhaled a quiet laugh, but there was nothing soft about it. It was laced with arrogance, with desire. He took a step closer, so close you could smell his cologne, the lingering scent of skin and sweat and something undeniably masculine.

"You think I’m beautiful, sweetheart?" His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "That’s cute."

Your lips parted, breath coming in short gasps. Every little movement he made had you teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

His hand slid lower, fingers tracing along the curve of your waist, slow and deliberate. "Tell me more."

You swallowed hard, heart hammering. "You’re... you're sexy."

Seonghwa hummed, pleased. His other hand came up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, teasing, testing.

"How sexy?"

Your body was burning now, aching all over again despite just having come undone beneath him. "Too sexy."

His smirk deepened. "Mm. That’s better."

Then, before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and guided your hand downward—down, down, until your fingers brushed against the hard, straining bulge beneath his pants.

Your breath hitched.

Seonghwa groaned, low and rough, his head tipping back for a split second before his gaze snapped back to yours, sharp and intense. "See what you do to me?"

Your fingers twitched, the heat between your legs returning at full force.

"Do you want to feel just how much I want you, baby?" His voice was lower now, thicker, dripping with something dangerously seductive.

You nodded weakly, and that was all he needed.

His fingers worked quickly, undoing his belt with a sharp clink, his zipper sliding down in one slow motion. Your pulse spiked as he freed himself, his cock hard, flushed, impossibly thick.

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh of relief, his fingers wrapping around himself as he gave a few lazy strokes. The sight alone had your knees threatening to give out.

"Touch me," he commanded, his voice nothing but smooth, seductive dominance.

Your hand trembled as you reached out, fingers wrapping around him. A sharp hiss slipped from his lips, his jaw clenching as he let you feel just how hard he was.

"That’s it, baby. Just like that."

Your touch was hesitant at first, but Seonghwa was patient—teasing you, guiding you, letting you explore him.

Then, he groaned, low and deep, the sound sending a violent shiver down your spine. His head tipped back slightly, his lips parting just enough to let out another breathy moan.

And you realized—this was what he wanted.

He wanted you to see him like this. Wanted you to fall apart over how beautiful, how strong, how unbearably sexy he was.

"Does this turn you on, baby?" His voice was a husky whisper now, breath hot against your ear. "Seeing me like this?"

Your fingers twitched around him, and he smirked.

"Of course it does."

He took your wrist, guiding you back, forcing you to release him before his hands found your hips, gripping them tightly. His voice dropped even lower, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"Then how about I make you fall apart all over again?"

Before you could even process his words, Seonghwa was flipping you around, pressing your back against the nearest surface. His body caged you in, all heat and hard muscle, his hands gripping your waist as if he never wanted to let go.

"You’re already shaking, sweetheart," he murmured, amusement lacing his tone. His fingers skimmed along your thigh, slow, deliberate, teasing. "I haven’t even done anything yet."

Liar.

He was everywhere. His scent, his touch, the way his voice alone sent a shiver down your spine—it was all too much, and not enough at the same time.

"Please," you whispered, not even sure what you were begging for anymore.

Seonghwa tsked, shaking his head with that signature smirk. "You sound so desperate. Have I really been driving you that crazy?"

Yes. Yes, he had.

And he knew it.

He pressed forward, his thigh slipping between your legs, his mouth ghosting over your jaw. His lips barely brushed against your skin, teasing, tormenting, never quite giving you what you wanted.

"Tell me, baby." His fingers trailed up, tracing the neckline of your top, playing with the fabric but never removing it. "Tell me how bad you want me."

Your breath hitched. "S-So bad."

"Mm." He hummed approvingly, but his movements remained agonizingly slow. His hands traveled lower, fingertips grazing over the sensitive skin of your thighs, over the heat between them.

Then he stopped.

You whined.

Seonghwa chuckled, dark and deep, his lips finally pressing against your neck in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. "You’re adorable when you beg, you know that?"

You shuddered.

"But I think you can do better."

You whimpered, pressing your hips against his, desperate for anything, but Seonghwa only tightened his grip, holding you in place.

"Use your words, sweetheart." His voice was a taunt, a tease, a wicked temptation. "Tell me what you want."

You swallowed, body burning, head spinning. "I want you to touch me."

"Where?"

Your cheeks burned. He knew where. He just wanted to hear you say it.

You clenched your fists, every inch of you burning with need. "I want you to touch my—"

Before you could finish, Seonghwa was already moving.

His fingers slipped beneath your clothing, finding your heat with terrifying precision. His breath caught, his body tensing for just a moment before a low, satisfied groan rumbled in his chest.

"Fuck, baby." His lips brushed against your ear. "You’re soaked."

You whimpered.

Seonghwa smirked against your skin, his fingers moving in slow, lazy circles, barely applying pressure. "All this for me?"

You nodded frantically, only for him to stop.

"Words, sweetheart."

Your body ached, your nerves screaming for more, for anything.

"Yes, yes—fuck, Seonghwa, all for you!"

"That’s my good girl."

And just like that, he gave in.

His fingers moved with purpose now, rubbing slow, firm circles against your most sensitive spot, his free hand gripping your hip to keep you in place as you writhed against him.

"That’s it, baby." His voice was lower now, almost breathless. "Let me hear you."

You didn’t even care who else might hear. Your body was already teetering on the edge, the pleasure building, tightening, consuming—

"Not yet."

Seonghwa stopped.

A desperate sob ripped from your throat, frustration clawing at your chest as you tried to chase the pleasure he so cruelly ripped away.

"You don’t get to come that easily, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Not until I say so."

You nearly cried. "Seonghwa—!"

He only smirked, his voice a dangerous whisper against your skin.

"I told you, didn’t I? I’m going to make you obsessed with me."

Seonghwa stared at you, drinking in every little reaction—the way your chest rose and fell in frantic little gasps, the way your fingers twitched at your sides like you wanted to grab onto something, onto him. The way your lips trembled, swollen from how much you’d been biting them to keep quiet.

And fuck, if that wasn’t the prettiest sight he’d ever seen.

"You’re already falling apart," he mused, tilting his head as if he were observing something fascinating. "And I’ve barely touched you."

Your entire body shuddered, thighs trembling as you clenched them together, desperate for any bit of friction. But Seonghwa saw. He caught the movement instantly, his smirk curling into something darker.

"Ah, ah, ah—" He tsked, pressing his knee between your legs, keeping them apart. "Don’t be greedy, sweetheart. If you want something, you ask me for it."

You swallowed hard, blinking up at him, completely at his mercy. "Please—"

"Please what?" His fingers dragged lazily up your thigh, making no move to touch you where you needed him most. "You have to be specific, baby."

Your entire body was shaking now, the frustration burning in your chest, twisting into something wild, needy.

"Seonghwa, please—touch me again," you choked out.

"Like this?" His fingers ghosted over the waistband of your underwear, skimming just over your heated skin.

"More," you whined, gripping his wrist, trying to push him lower.

Seonghwa chuckled, effortlessly pulling his hand away. "So impatient," he murmured. "I told you, baby, you don’t get to come that easily."

A desperate sob bubbled from your throat, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. "You’re so mean."

His head dipped, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "You love it."

You hated that he was right.

"But I think you’re ready now," he continued, voice smooth as silk. "Ready to prove just how much you want me."

Your stomach flipped. Your lips parted to ask him what he meant, but he was already taking your wrist, guiding your hand downward again—back to where he was aching for you.

The moment your fingers wrapped around him, Seonghwa let out a sharp exhale, his jaw clenching.

"There we go," he muttered. "Such a good girl, always listening so well."

Heat rushed through you at the praise, and you swallowed, tightening your grip slightly.

Seonghwa groaned.

"Fuck." His forehead pressed against yours for a brief moment, his body trembling now too. But then he was tilting your chin up, making sure you saw what you were doing to him. "Feel that, baby?"

You nodded weakly, breath hitching.

"You’ve been whining for me all night, begging me to touch you, but look at you now." His lips ghosted over yours, not quite kissing, just teasing, taunting. "You’re the one touching me."

Your fingers twitched around him, the weight, the heat, the power of it making your thighs squeeze together involuntarily.

Seonghwa smirked. "Are you getting off on this, baby?"

Your face burned, but you couldn’t lie. "Yes."

His chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle, his fingers curling around yours, guiding your movements.

"That’s my girl."

The words wrecked you. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps as he made you work him, slow, agonizingly controlled. The way his muscles tensed under your touch, the way his lips parted ever so slightly when you twisted your wrist just right—every reaction had heat pooling low in your stomach all over again.

"Just like that, baby," he groaned, his free hand gripping your hip like he needed something to hold onto. "Fuck, you feel so good."

Your thighs clenched. His voice alone was enough to push you to the brink, the way it dripped with praise, with pleasure, with barely-contained restraint.

"If you keep being so good for me," he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice nothing but a husky whisper now, "I might finally let you have what you want."

Your pulse spiked.

"Do you want it, baby?" He lifted your chin, forcing your gaze on him. "Want me to fuck you like you’ve been begging for?"

You nodded, desperate.

"Use your words."

"Yes—yes, please, Seonghwa," you gasped.

His smirk returned, dark and knowing.

"That’s my good girl."

Then, in one swift movement, he grabbed your hips, spun you around, and pressed your body against the nearest surface.

"Now, let’s see how well you can take me."

Seonghwa’s breath was hot against your ear as he positioned himself above you, a slow, deliberate grind that had you gasping in anticipation. Every shift of his hips sent a jolt of electricity through your body, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. He was teasing you, keeping you right on the edge, dragging the tension out, letting you ache for more.

"Beg for it," he whispered, his voice a seductive rasp as his hands moved down your body, gliding over your skin like he was mapping out every inch of you. He wasn’t rushing. No, he wanted to savor this, make you squirm, make you need him.

You couldn’t hold back. Your body, already trembling under his touch, instinctively shifted against him, desperate for more.

"Please, Seonghwa, just… just give me more," you begged, your voice trembling as you arched up against him.

He smirked, the movement of his hips growing slower, teasing, as his hands found the sides of your waist, holding you in place. "You’re so impatient, baby. I want you to beg a little more."

You whimpered, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you. Every inch of your body screamed for release, but Seonghwa was playing with you, testing your limits.

"You like this, don’t you?" His voice was dark, his lips trailing down your neck as his hips circled against yours, his hard length rubbing against your most sensitive spot. "You love how I make you wait."

You moaned softly, your thighs shifting, trying to find something, anything to create more friction, but Seonghwa pulled back, holding you still.

"Don’t move," he commanded softly, his hand on your hip firm as he watched you. "I’m in control here, sweetheart. You don’t get to move until I let you."

You shuddered, the words driving you wild, the teasing so unbearable you could barely think straight.

"Please, Seonghwa," you gasped, the words falling from your lips without hesitation. "Please, touch me. I need you."

His smirk deepened, satisfaction evident in his eyes. "Good girl." He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, a hard, hungry kiss that made your mind spin. His hips finally pressed against yours fully, the delicious pressure building again.

"You feel that, baby?" Seonghwa growled, pulling back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. He rocked his hips slowly, letting the friction build at a maddening pace. "You like how I fill you up, don’t you?"

The sensation of him inside you, so deep, so slow, was enough to make your head spin. You whimpered in response, nodding desperately. "Yes, Seonghwa, I need more—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he pulled away slightly, teasing you with a long, drawn-out thrust, just enough to leave you aching for more, before pulling back again.

"Fuck, Seonghwa—"

He smirked, taking control again, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head as he began to thrust into you with a slow, agonizing rhythm, each push deeper than the last, sending waves of heat flooding through your body.

"That’s right," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "You take everything I give you, don’t you?"

You nodded, your hips instinctively lifting to meet each of his slow, deep thrusts. He had you right where he wanted you, desperate, broken by his teasing.

"You’re mine," Seonghwa whispered, his voice thick with lust. "All mine."

His thrusts began to pick up pace, and the pressure, the heat, the building tension was driving you wild. You could barely hold it together, your body trembling, desperate for the release he was so expertly holding back.

Seonghwa’s movements were relentless now, each thrust harder, faster, until there was no room to think—only to feel.

"Seonghwa—please, I—" You couldn’t even finish the sentence before your entire body erupted in pleasure, a loud moan tearing from your throat as you came undone, your nails digging into his back as your body shuddered beneath him.

He groaned at the sight of you, watching as you fell apart, your body convulsing around him. But he didn’t stop, not even for a moment. He kept fucking into you, hard and deep, until you were begging for him to stop, your voice hoarse with desperation.

"Please, Seonghwa, too much, I can’t—"

But he wasn’t done. He only smirked, his pace relentless, his lips brushing your ear once more as he fucked you through your orgasm.

"Good girl. Take it all. You wanted this."

Your legs shook violently as another wave of pleasure crashed over you, and finally, with a low groan, Seonghwa let himself go, burying himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he came with a soft growl of your name.

For a few moments, you both were still, just breathing, hearts racing in the aftermath.

Seonghwa collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his fingers gently caressing your skin as you caught your breath. "You did so well, baby," he murmured softly, his voice still thick with lust, but with a tenderness that made your heart race. "I’m proud of you."

You let out a soft, exhausted sigh, burying your face against his chest. The heat of his skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, calmed the storm inside you.

"You’re mine now," he whispered again, his hand threading through your hair as he kissed your forehead gently. "And I’m not letting you go."

[lycheeloving]

I'm not a songfic person at all, but Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo is so Bruce Wayne coded... not everything fits ofc, but listening to it always makes me think of a lil scenario. i don't know how much it actually has to do with the song tbh

I imagine you're a meta, have some kind of power that Batman just can't figure out, but he needs to know exactly how your powers work and what your weaknesses are! To make a contingency plan for you, in case you turn evil at some point!

So he tries everything, sneakily taking your blood (either you don't let him get close enough or he can't pierce your skin due to your powers), watching you closely during missions, even subtly asking you about it, but nothing works, you don't let him know anything, he can't figure you out.

So he only has one option left. Getting closer to you, making you trust him. You're already suspicious of Batman, so he gets closer to you in his civilian identity, Bruce Wayne. He fabricates "random" (meticulously planned) encounters between you both for months, where he slowly endears himself to you, until you agree to date him. Then he knows exactly what to say to get you to care about him, to trust him.

Over the course of many months you get really close to him, come to love him. You reveal your identity to him (that he already knew, but he acts surprised), open up about your powers after he gently asks you to explain more to him, since he's "so confused, and didn't expect any of this, please help him understand?". You even mention one of your weaknesses to him, hoping that will make him less scared of you. He calms down after that, and you think your relationship is now stronger than ever.

Unbeknownst to you, after you fall asleep in his bed that night, he takes your blood and scans you in a way he's figured out won't wake you up. He has all the information he needs now.

After that, he ever so slowly starts distancing himself from you, intending to get you to stop caring about him as much, to break up with him. However, before that happens, you're able to connect the dots and figure out he's Batman. Either he says something as Batman that only Bruce should know or you stumble upon the batcave. Why didn't he reveal this to you when you told him about your powers? Didn't he trust you? ...Maybe he just wasn't ready yet? But why did he act so confused, Batman wouldn't be confused!

You then decide to look through his things, hoping not to find a file on you, hoping he truly cared about you and didn't just get close to you for more information, but you find a list of your weaknesses, and plans detailing how to take you down, if he ever has to. You also find the plans he had for this whole thing. Getting close to you and then just leaving you, as if whatever was between you never meant anything.

You destroy a lot of his stuff in anger before calming down enough to see past your anger and leave, intending to never come back. You stop working with Batman, maybe even with the entire Justice League, unable to trust him and anyone that works with him.

Did he ever really care about you? He might have started out not caring, but did he never start liking you at all?

And did breaking your heart create the monster he feared you could become? Or did he just make it so you'll never trust anyone again? Only time will tell...

[katerinaaqu]

The Lament of a Life (Achilles and Antilochus short songfic)

If someone asks me how the lament of Achilles looks like my answer would be the amazing aria with music composed by Vivaldi:

The lyrics go on a repeat like this:

So today is a bit chilly and so I was inspired by this amazing song and made this! (Sorry itis a random inspiration I had this morning from this piece thus the title "song-fic")

***

His eyelids were heavy. He didn’t feel like getting up anymore. His bed seemed cold and inhospitable and yet he didn’t feel like moving out of it. His eyes opened slowly and looked to the side. It was empty. He looked outside his tent. Also empty. There was nothing left; he didn’t have the subject of his revenge anymore; he had given it back. Hector’s body was buried and celebrated. His revenge had come to an end. And yet, he felt empty. Nothing mattered. Achilles, the Best and Noblest of all the Greeks was no longer feeling anything mattered. What would it matter now that the subject of his vengeance was gone, if the subject of all the affections he could offer to a human being was also gone? His soul was in turmoil throughout the process. He thought on Briseis, the woman that he felt so strongly for; merely a slave and yet so important for him, had started this domino of reactions which led him to the strike; his refusal to fight. Then his refusal led to this terrible result; the death of his other half. The flame that flickered inside him was gone, the moment Patroclus’s eyes turned glassy from death and he wasn’t even there. During Patroclus’s last moments…he wasn’t there! He remembered his wife; a woman he barely knew and yet she gave him a son, a son he adored despite his young years, a son that he never knew and a son that never knew him back. He could be lamenting for them; they wouldn’t see him again possibly. Given the prophecy, he was to die in war. Possibly neither his wife nor his son, were included in the prophecy. He should be crying for them. He should be crying for the people that were around him and yet…he was feeling weak; unwilling to even get out of his bed and eat because of… He slowly forced himself to sit up and he looked at the magnificent urn with two handles that was always within eye gaze from him. The intricate patterns were cold; just like his bed that could not give him warmth.

“Come back…” he whispered in a voice chocked deep in his throat

Tears oozed out of his sea-blue eyes; his throat burning anew.

“I did what you asked…I offered you a burial…come back…! Please…come back to me!”

His hand was shaking as it was reaching for the cold, golden urn; his other fixing the covers upon his naked chest, in a vain attempt to generate some warmth within.

“Please…” he whispered again, “Come back…!”

“Achilles…”

The young and soft voice didn’t surprise him neither made him react. Antilochus was standing right behind him, undoubtedly had entered his tent a little while prior, enough to hear his foolish and childish lament.

“He won’t come back…” the young man said as a matter of fact, “You offered him a burial. He is in the land of Hades now… He will not come back”

More tears arose from Achilles’s eyes as he clasped desperately the covers against his chest; his face buried to the pocket created by them as if his own eyes wanted to confirm what hurt so much was indeed the organ that was pumping his blood, giving him life inside. Yes, he knew. His cut hair was also a proof of that but hearing it again was somehow destroying that foolish illusion that if he begged hard enough, goddess Persephone would have mercy and send back Patroclus to him; his soul to talk to or at least restore his body to hold one more time…

“Soul of my soul…” he mumbled in lament, “My dear as my own heart…”

“Shh…” Antilochus whispered in tears, hugging his shoulders affectionately, “I know… I know… Please don’t do this to yourself… I know it hurts but…he’s gone… No matter what you do…how much you melt…he won’t come back…”

“Heart of my heart…” Achilles lamented again, “I want him back…! I want him to come back…”

“I know…” Antilochus said again, caressing his golden locks with his hands

Achilles seemed almost aged at that point in his sorrow. Antilochus almost felt tempted to look for white hairs in his golden head.

“And I am sorry that I cannot offer you any consolation… Forgive me. I am not him; I cannot take your sorrow away…”

Antilochus softly raised Achilles’s head, cupping his cheeks and making him look deep in the eyes. He moped the tears from his cheekbones with his thumbs.

“I know I am young and foolish…but, please, take one bit of advice from me; stop looking at it! Stop looking at that urn! It will only hurt you more… You need to come back to us too…we need you…”

He looked away.

“I need you…” he whispered shyly, “You are my hero, my idol… I need you back, strong and healthy…maybe some of your previous happiness back… Please…please my dear…we all need you. Above all I do…”

Achilles looked at him and for one moment he looked like a hurt animal facing the peasant that had released him from the hunter’s trap. However then he laughed; it was a dry, humorless, lamenting laugh.

“Don’t be foolish!” he said self-pettily, “No one shall need me! I shall die! I know I will!”

“Don’t talk like that!”

“You can’t deny it, Antilochus! I know it to be true! It was predicted for me! I will die! I will die in this war! My mother told me someday I would die in this war if I decided to fight! I shall never go home! I shall never see my wife and son! I will die now! I know I will and I don’t care! Nothing matters anymore!”

“Don’t say that!” Antilochus retorted again

“I know the truth” Achilles insisted, “I decided it for myself. I know what my fate is! That urn Im staring is waiting for me! I am to die!”

Antilochus looked away. He seemed hesitant; his arm rubbing his upper arm as if he was about to make that confession no one has heard before.

“I’ll tell you a secret…” he whispered, “So am I…”

Achilles seemed surprised and shocked for the first time in that conversation. Suddenly the lament gone; now there was fear in his eyes. Fear for yet another loss.

“My father was hiding it…but I overheard him. An oracle once told him to beware of an Ethiopian. At first I didn’t know…but my father tried to hide it from me. I know now that I am to die somehow by someone from a foreign land… Maybe today maybe tomorrow maybe here maybe at home… I know though that I will die like this…and…”

He swallowed and looked back at Achilles. The elder man gasped seeing tears to Antilochus’s eyes.

“…And I am scared! I am scared, Achilles! I don’t want to tell my father that for he would be ashamed of me and my cowardice but…I am scared! How can you take it, Achilles? How can you live knowing that you will die…?”

“Antilochus…”

Antilochus quickly mopped his own tears, sniffing his nose, trying to find his composure.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, “I don’t know what came into me! I just…”

He sighed.

“We need you back” he finally repeated, “You are our strength and our courage. When you are out there we are afraid of nothing!”

“Antilochus!”

And Achilles did something the younger prince never expected; he embraced him.

“Antilochus, dear to my heart…don’t say such things please. Don’t you say that you will die! I will not let you! I…I will protect you!”

“You…you will…?”

“I will!”

Achilles kissed the top of his head and held him close. Maybe for the first time in weeks he didn’t think of death and burials. Right now he was lamenting a life; this young man who was there apparently sharing his pain and fate. No, he wouldn’t see yet another young person close to him die before him in battle!

“I will protect you! I will not let anything happen to you I promise!”

The two men remained there for quite some time, neither wanted to count the time. It was a shared lament for their short lives; a lament that was different than the one for the dead souls. Who would die first? If both of them were destined to die in the war against Troy, who would die first and who would watch the other die? Neither wanted to be the last. Neither wanted to see the other die. What weird and sad fate! Achilles was almost rocking the youth in his arms so worried of his upcoming death while he was almost welcoming his at that point; oftentimes kissing tenderly his temple. Antilochus was trying to evoke some of his warmth to Achilles for he was afraid for his upcoming death; his welcoming of it. He didn’t want to hear fate yet alone his willingness to accept it. It was a weird way to connect that autumn morning. And yet he felt that at least Achilles might have found a reason to postpone his will to die. Antilochus broke the embrace first, standing up.

“Look at us!” he chuckled softly, “Looking like children playing at the gymnasium like this! We have a war to fight! I am sorry…I took your personal time, my lord Achilles…”

“Wait!” Achilles’s voice made him stop, “Stay…please…”

It was a request; a pleading.

“Please stay with me longer…” he almost seemed worried, afraid

“Are you afraid of the dark and shadows?”

“Yes…” Achilles admitted, “More like those inside my heart… Please stay a bit longer…”

Antilochus smiled softly.

“Of course, my lord…” he whispered, “I would be delighted”

*

Outside the tents, the Greeks were already preparing for the events of the day. The kings were to negotiate their next step again given how the mourning period for Hector was over, how the killings would start anew. It was a sad prospect and they knew their own forces wouldn’t last long. The spies were also informing them on movement on Troy’s part to call upon more allies to arrive to the battlefield. Odysseus was thinking all this as he pranced about the camp. He blew some warm air to his freezing fingers. Autumn was in for good. Soon winter would arrive again.

“Yet another year to the foot of Troy…” he thought miserably, “Yet another year away from our homes…for the sakes of this war…”

He was also worried on Achilles. That last lament period shocked everyone. Achilles had just collapsed and then turned into blind rage. People were afraid on his sanity; that his mind would break. An out of control Achilles was much more dangerous than they would have thought. And their army needed their support. Before the Trojans had Hector to even the odds. Now their strongest warrior was gone. It would be their chance to have higher spirits and yet they didn’t. Achilles was a mess. Once more they seemed to square one… He could only hope he would snap out of his grief enough to fight. His gloomy thoughts were interrupted when he saw old Nestor. Nestor was suffering more than the rest of them from the cold; he had a bear skin over his shoulders to keep his old bones warmer and yet he refused to stand back. Odysseus smiled.

“Good morning, my friend” he said

“Good morning” Nestor replied, “It turned chilly!”

“Yeah…” Odysseus agreed, “Sometimes I envy the young!”

“Speaking of which…my son left the tent earlier this morning. He said he wanted to check on Achilles and I didn’t hear from him since. Have you seen him?”

“No” Odysseus replied thoughtfully, “But I was heading there myself to check on things. Maybe he is still there”

As if on a queue they heard light laughter coming from the direction where the Myrdmidons had camped.  The distinct, clear laughter from Achilles made a small smile creep to Odysseus’s lips.

“It’s the first time I hear him laugh in weeks…” he sounded almost hopeful, “Your son is a miracle-worker!”

Nestor smiled back.

“He is…” he whispered thoughtfully, “He is…”

Odysseus’s smile dropped when he saw a shadow in Nestor’s eyes. He didn’t need to ask to know there was something ominous hanging over the two youths.

Yet another time he looked at the cloudy, gray sky and wondered to Athena how all that was even justified…if the youth were to perish and all the others would live…

***

So yeah...Achilles being depressed and Antilochus giving some consolation! TT_TT Achilles hoped to see Patroclus's ghost again (which is what inspired me from that amazing Aria as well!)

Also I wondered if Antilochus knew the warning Nestor got to "beware of an Ethiopian" if he would know or sense the warning was for himself instead of his father...what if he feared it all along...maybe that would be the connection with Achilles!

Set after the mourning period of Hector! As you can see I kept it a bit "homeric" in the essence that I love tenderness in his writing and then leave it unravel!

a small thanking thing in a way too for @smokey07 for honoring me with a mention! Anoher thankng for @h0bg0blin-meat for his sketch to one of my silly headcanons about Achilles and Patroclus! Still makes me giggle my friend!

Also I want you guys check out my brilliant friend's art and mentions on our characters trust me you won't regret it! Many parallels of the epic cycle were added unconsciously to our story! Hahahaha! @artsofmetamoor

My analysis on Achilles and Patroclus can be found here

Antilochus needed some love too there! Hehehe others write scary stories for October but I was like "nope I shall mention ghosts in angst!"