#surrender my everything / ( povs )

[space-blue]

Disappointed in the Vander backstory

I fully expected that it was coming, but I'm disappointed in the timeline all the same.

The "Vander got upset because a fight against Piltover Silco instigated killed the woman he loved" was literally my first draft for my longfic Fathers and Daughters, and I ended up scrapping it because I felt it was too cheap and wouldn't justify the violence of his actions against Silco.

"When she died I lost my head" he says in the letter.

But when she died you actually dropped your gauntlets and picked up the girls and everyone has been assuming this was the moment you swore off violence...

The fact she goes on to let Vander name her kid, and seems to be thick as thieves with them, and ALSO tells them of the pregnancy before she builds up the courage to tell her partner... Tells me that surely... SURELY by the time Vi is 10-11, whatever she is on the bridge in season 1, she would KNOW SILCO as her mom's bestie, no??? Not just Vander.

It feels like this entire angle is pulled under the rug to simplify the conflict in act 1.

I do appreciate being right on the money with Silco knowing and being friends with the mom, and having known Vi as a baby. I think it makes sense, especially if he was an important community leader.

I just hate her death being the catalyst of Vander's actions against Silco. It means that the timeline actually like this:

Mom-Silco-Vander are best friends. Silco is "Bozo 1" and has been leading the transformation of the Lanes with Vander's help. He's already planning his nation of Zaun. His notebook is literally saying "NZ" for Nation of Zaun.

At an ONGOING confrontation with enforcers, Silco throws a molotov cocktails that doesn't seem to even kill an enforcer (Powder and her innefectual bombs parallel? The entire scene is intercut with the monkey bomb clapping so... The scene leading to a friend's death also parallels the events of Jinx's birth.)

As the smoke clears/the POV looks down, we have the reveal that the girls' Mom is dead.

Vander admits the blood was on his hands as well, meaning he either started this confrontation with Silco, or fought just as badly/increased the violence (and we see him murder enforcers later on). Anyway he admits to carrying the blame, and apologized in person to Silco for the dubbed "betrayal".

Then he went home, shaved, dragged Silco into the Pilt, and tried to drown him *because their common friend died at the failed uprising*.

He's then haunted, seemingly, by visions of Silco being dead:

To me it's sort of weaker and sadder, as it establishes Vander as someone more flawed and less ruthless. It's not that he wanted the Lanes, it's not that Silco was getting in the way of what he wanted.

Vander was out there happy with everything they were dishing out, right until their actions cost the life of a friend, and he broke, emotionally, and BLAMED it on Silco, going so far as to kill him (or try).

He surrendered his gauntlets, picked the children up, tucked them in at home, shaved (I cannot stress this enough), then took Silco into the fucking river and brutally attempted to murder him.

Then he massively regretted it and left little breadcrumbs of apologies in case Silco found them and returned to him.

So, canon couple, first off lol

Fellas, is it gay to hang your jackets inside each other's in your secret hideout? Is it gay that all your core hidden memories begin with your mate smiling at you?

Yes, yes it is. Zaundad is canon and I'm not taking commentary.

Secondly, that means Vander was an emotional ticking time bomb who wasn't ready for the price to sacrifice in order to gain their freedom. I really wonder what the alternative reality would have been like, were Silco the one dying on that bridge.

Anyway, it brings some twisted sadness to the situation, because the mom wanted Zaun "no matter what" for Vi's sake, her child's future. But Vander decided that lives weren't worth spilling over that dream and tried to kill Silco over it, before teaming up with Grayson to continue enforcing a status quo.

So that means that Silco, even as he raises Jinx, is continuing her mother's dream, of building Zaun, a country that's safe for her children, "no matter what".

But very sadly the show also acts like Silco doesn't know the kids, and like the kids don't know him. Powder, sure, but Vi not knowing Silco is just downright stupid. Not even knowing him by name? When her mom was out fighting alongside him??? The mom is ALSO a miner, very clearly working with Silco and Vander, alongside the nameless poor husband.

I feel like this doesn't really solve the issues that were already raised when we speculated about act 1. It just clarifies that Vander was truly, willfully a force of oppression inside the fissures, working against the revolution necessary for Zaun becoming possible.

But it implies Silco didn't recognise Powder and Vi, and that Vi didn't recognise him or understand how he knew Vander. It's a disservice to the story, because that tie, that old bond, could really have worked to dramatize the sacrifices Silco is ready to make, as well as the depth of Vi's hatred for him.

But the show acts like they're strangers and that Vander's death is the core beef between them until Jinx enters the picture.

And then there's the Benzo scene, when Vander holds his wound from Silco's knife, and says "we both know there's worse than enforcers out there" WHO ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT??? Yourself? You seem to be the worst thing around here! It seems clear he knew Silco was alive but had nothing to blame him for by then.

I'm left with holes that take the shape of "shock value" and "plot twist".

"Ooooh Silco knew the mom, twiiiist, but please don't think about the implications, because we wrote season 1 without taking this in consideration."

Feels like another job for fic writers, but IDK if I have the strength for it. I just like my own version better.

At least now we know that Silco did not IN FACT DO anything to "deserve" what he got. I'm sorry, but throwing a molotov at enforcers when fighting for your freedom is based and Vander was dishing death right there next to him.

The base violence necessary for change, eh? Vander just delayed the price being paid for Zaun's creation.

[onceinablueberrymoon]

stick to the plan | husband!salesman x mom!reader

the final parts are up! there are two possible endings: swan lake and nocturne no. 2. take your pick -- it's a 50-50 chance :) scenario: gi-hun and the loan shark group have been searching for the salesman for almost two years now. you and your son had occasionally come to help them in their search, but to no avail. one day, your husband gets an order to get rid of gi-hun because of his incessant probing. you have no choice but to obey, even against your will. setting: during the events of season 2, episode 1! ; set one year after the name game; you can find the other parts to the series in my masterlist! warnings: fem!reader; mom!reader; dad!salesman; deception; lots of guilt; is this angst? it’s definitely guilt tho; recruiter is called salesman; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 3.9k notes: thank you all for waiting! this took me much longer than expected, but it’s definitely my longest chapter for this series so far! as this takes place almost entirely within season 2, episode 1, i pulled quite a bit of dialogue from the show. however, this is all in second person POV, so it’s only what reader sees. i really enjoyed writing this part, and i sincerely hope you enjoy reading it! also, there will be two endings (and possibly a third) for this series. one which remains canon, and the other which… doesn’t, lol. i hope to release them at the same time, so please stay tuned! ik i don't post gifs usually but doesn't he look so soft in this gif i just had to use it (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) borders by @enchanthings-a and the gif is from @lenoirexv!

One year later.

“All packed?”

You asked your husband as you zipped up your purse. 

“Almost.” He called from across the bedroom. He was in front of his safe, grabbing piles of ddakji tiles and money and carefully placing them in a suitcase. The last few tiles and stacks of money went into his briefcase. 

Once you were finished organizing your belongings, you walked over to the crib in the corner of the room. Min-seok looked up at you, a shy smile on his face. You lifted him up, mentally checking off your list: he had already been fed, changed, and dressed. Looking around the bedroom, you saw all the packed suitcases and bags scattered on the floor and on the bed. Everything was ready.

A sigh escaped your lips. You had been planning this day for a while now. 

According to your husband, the Frontman had been somewhat concerned with Gi-hun’s persistent actions. As recruitment for the Games was almost finished, he had ordered your husband to eliminate Gi-hun. What “eliminate” meant, you weren’t exactly sure, but you knew it couldn’t be good. While you were close to Gi-hun, you knew this friendship couldn’t last forever, especially since it was built on lies. You were loyal to your job, your husband, and now your son too. You couldn’t throw that away for a friendship. Even so, the gnawing feeling of guilt clawed at your insides.

You kissed the top of your son’s head before tucking him in his stroller. He let out a small giggle. 

“Mini, have fun with your dad today, alright?” You said sweetly. 

Walking over to your husband, you patted him lightly on the chest. 

“Be safe. If you put my baby in danger, I’ll kill you.” You narrowed your eyes and your husband put his hands up in surrender. “I believe you.”

Your husband wrapped his arms around you before pecking you on the lips. 

“I’ll start loading the bags.” He turned to pick up his briefcase.

“Wait,” you stopped him. “You’re sure there’ll be someone that can take us to the island?” 

Your husband gave you a soft smile, placing the briefcase down before taking your hands in his. “We’ve been over this. Captain Park will meet us at the pier to escort us to the island.” He played with the wedding ring on your finger. “We’ll only be there for a short while. Just until the Frontman deems it safe to return.”  

You bit your lip. Even though you reviewed the plan dozens of times before, you couldn’t shake your anxiety.

“What if…” You paused, your voice choking suddenly. “What if something goes wrong? What if something happens to you? Or me? Or-” Your husband grabbed the sides of your arms roughly, almost making your body shake. 

“Nothing will go wrong.” His tone was harsh. “I won’t allow it.” He let go of you and rubbed his hands up and down your arms as if to apologize for hurting you.

He sighed and ran his hand through his neatly styled hair. “Everything will go according to plan. Play your role correctly and everything will return to normal soon.” He picked up his briefcase and one of the suitcases and left the bedroom.

You stood there in silence, your mind racing. You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself. 

‘This will all be over soon,’ you thought. ‘Everything will return to normal soon...’

The problem: you didn’t even know what ‘normal’ looked like anymore.

"Jonggak. Jonggak Station."

The voiceover announced the name of the subway station. Checking your phone, you realized this was your stop.

You stepped off the train onto the platform, where you spotted two familiar figures.

“Hey!” You called, waving to Mr. Kim and Woo-seok who were seated on a bench. 

Upon seeing you, they waved back. As you approached them, you noticed them eating sandwiches and kimbap. You sat down next to Woo-seok and he held a sandwich out for you to take.

“Thank you, I’m starving,” you said as you unwrapped the packaging.

“No Min-seok?” Woo-seok asked, looking for any sign of your son who sometimes accompanied you. 

“His father’s taking care of him today,” you replied with a smile.

Gi-hun and the others had fallen in love with your little boy from the moment they met him. While your husband was skeptical of you introducing your son to literal loan sharks, you had assured him that everything would be fine. You and Min-seok had quickly befriended Mr. Kim after visiting Gi-hun at his hotel the day he happened to be visiting. Everyone was smitten once they saw your son, and Mr. Kim and Woo-seok were no exception. Min-seok was a sweetheart who loved to be held by everyone, and his laughter was infectious. 

You volunteered to help in the search for the salesman, which Gi-hun initially declined for your safety. But as the search continued for months with no progress, Gi-hun suggested you go with Mr. Kim and Woo-seok who could protect you if things went awry.

“Anything exciting today?” You asked as you dug into your sandwich. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok shook their heads.

“I know Mr. Seong is your friend,” Woo-seok said, “But how much of his story do you actually believe?” He turned to Mr. Kim. “We’ve been searching every subway station in the city all summer, but no one’s ever seen the guy.”

Mr. Kim nodded his head. “Seong Gi-hun may be crazy, but he wouldn’t waste billions on looking for someone who doesn’t exist. He’s onto something.”

Woo-seok ran his hand over his face. “Boss, we’ve been searching these stations for the past two years. Not days, years! Two whole years.” He laughed, “My wife says I should find that salesman, go play those games myself, and win 45.6 billion won. If someone were playing ddakji down here, we would’ve found hi-”

Smack.

All three of you turned to look across the platform.

Stunned, the two men stood up in confusion. There the salesman was, playing ddakji against a man wearing a bucket hat. Next to them, away from the playing area, was Min-seok’s stroller. Once the salesman slapped the other man, Mr. Kim and Woo-seok looked at each other, eyes wide. All you could do was watch the spectacle as you ate your sandwich quietly. The man with the bucket hat won two rounds in a row. Before he forgot, Mr. Kim pulled out his phone to call Gi-hun.

“We’ve found the guy. It’s him,” Mr. Kim spoke. You couldn’t hear what Gi-hun said, but you were sure he was shocked too.

“The ddakji, slapping, and money. Just like you said.” You saw the salesman give the man with the bucket hat a business card. “He’s handing over the card now.”

A beat, then Mr. Kim said, “We’re at Jonggak Station.” He paused. “By the way, you never said the guy had a kid?”

You could faintly hear Gi-hun’s sound of confusion from your spot on the bench.

“He has a stroller with him. I’m not su- He’s leaving. Please hurry.” Mr. Kim hung up and gestured for you and Woo-seok to follow him. 

Even though the salesman took the elevator because of the stroller, he was still faster than you. You followed him out of the subway station and to a couple stores before finally arriving at Tapgol Park.

‘Ah,’ you thought. ‘One of his favourites.’

It was no surprise to you that your husband needed to release some pent-up stress from time-to-time. He liked to go to parks frequented by the homeless and play a game of bread or lottery. On the rare occasion that the majority of the people chose the buns, he would be satisfied, telling you that maybe there was some hope left in the world after all.

As the salesman started his rounds, you, Mr. Kim, and Woo-seok settled on a bench near the main gazebo, hiding your faces behind pages of a random newspaper you found. You laughed in your mind. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok were horrible stalkers. Even if you weren’t there, there’s no way your husband wouldn’t notice them. They stuck out like a sore thumb.

You noticed that some people were attracted to the stroller the salesman was pushing, peering into the bassinet to have a look at the baby. You supposed it made your husband seem more trustworthy. He had his usual smiling expression on his face. He moved from one person to the next, offering them a bun or a lottery scratcher.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Mr. Kim asked. “Maybe he’s a good guy.” Woo-seok said, confused. 

You all continued to watch the salesman as he went around and offered the same options to all the homeless people in the park. Once he had completed his rounds, he went to the centre of the park in front of the gazebo and placed his bags down.

“How come he’s not giving us one?” Mr. Kim looked slightly offended. 

‘Maybe cause you look so suspicious,’ you thought, but said nothing.

Everyone turned to look at the salesman as he dumped both bags of buns onto the ground. 

‘Here we go,’ you thought, bracing for people’s reactions.

Just as one man was about to pick up a bun, the salesman stepped on it, digging his heel in to squish the bread. Everyone’s faces dropped, including Mr. Kim and Woo-seok’s. Then, he started jumping and stomping on all the buns. You had to stifle your laughter — sometimes your husband was just so funny! Everyone was too stunned to move. Mr. Kim whipped out his phone to record the incident, probably to show Gi-hun later. The salesman truly looked like a madman, slipping and sliding over the crushed packages of bread before kicking them. After he had finished his tantrum, he straightened his jacket and ran his hands over his face, before finally tucking his tie into his jacket like nothing had happened.

Everyone was still reeling from what they had just witnessed when a whine emerged from the stroller next to the salesman. Your heart sank. Min-seok started fussing, his whines quickly becoming cries. You tried to mask the pained look on your face as a pang of guilt hit you for not being able to soothe your baby. 

The salesman picked Min-seok up from the bassinet and started rocking him gently, much to the shock of everyone watching. With the exception of your son’s crying, the park was silent. You turned to look at Mr. Kim and Woo-seok who looked utterly dumbfounded at what they were witnessing. Thankfully, you were seated far away enough that they couldn’t tell that the baby was your son. 

After being comforted by his father, Min-seok’s cries quieted down and the salesman placed him back in his stroller. Wearing a polite smile on his face, the salesman picked up his briefcase and pushed the stroller out of the park. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok broke out of their trance and scrambled to follow him, with you not far behind. 

Ahead of you, the salesman hailed a taxi. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok hid behind one of the pillars of the park entrance, watching him as he carefully detached Min-seok’s bassinet from the stroller before loading the rest of the stroller in the trunk. 

As the taxi drove off, Woo-seok hurriedly ran out to the street to hail your own taxi. Jumping into the car, he gestured for the driver to follow the taxi the salesman took, even offering to pay him double. You sped away, the car weaving in and out of traffic.

Mr. Kim took out his phone to call Gi-hun.

“Where are you? Are you coming?” He asked once Gi-hun picked up. “This guy’s a total nutcase! He’s in a cab now, we’re following him. Hurry!” He hung up. 

“Is he on his way?” You asked Mr. Kim. He nodded, “I’m not sure where he is, but he should catch up soon.”

After driving for some time, the car turned onto a road in an industrial area. Woo-seok noticed that the salesman was getting out of his taxi, the driver helping him unload the stroller from the trunk.

“I’ll send Seong the address,” Mr. Kim told you as he keyed in the location. “Please drop us off here,” Woo-seok instructed your taxi driver. He took some money out of his wallet and handed it to the driver. You all jumped out of the taxi, moving to hide around the corner of the alleyway the salesman had gone down.

“Where is Mr. Seong?” Woo-seok whispered. “He’ll be here in 10 minutes,” Mr. Kim replied. You all watched the salesman walk down the alley at a leisurely pace. He didn’t seem to notice that he was being trailed. 

Mr. Kim seemed impatient. “We might lose him if we wait. Let’s just get him ourselves.” Woo-seok became nervous. Mr. Kim scoffed, “Are you scared? It’s three against one.” 

You bit your lip. “Shouldn’t we wait for Gi-hun? He could be dangerous.” You suggested, fully knowing they wouldn’t be able to wait that long.

Woo-seok didn’t seem entirely convinced. “It’s just… Something seems off with that guy…” 

Mr. Kim turned to face Woo-seok. “But what if we lose him? What if Seong doesn’t give us the money? It’s a billion won!” Mr. Kim sighed, “Don’t you trust me? I officiated your wedding! Besides, he’s got a baby, he won’t be able to take us all.”

Woo-seok nodded in agreement. You looked unsure as the two men prepared to chase after the salesman, who had just turned a corner.

“Come on, let’s go,” Mr. Kim gestured to you both to follow. You trailed behind the two men as they scampered down the alleyway. 

“Gi-hun told us to wait here!” You whisper-yelled, but the two were long gone. They turned the corner, and you heard them yelling, “Hey, you! Stop!”

Just as you turned the corner, you heard thumps and saw Mr. Kim get launched into a nearby pile of trash. Woo-seok went to help him but was clearly at a disadvantage as he struggled to pull out his pocket knife to defend himself. The salesman entered your view, easily disarming him before using his briefcase to knock both men out.

Once you were sure both men were unconscious, you stepped towards your husband, slowly clapping your hands in applause. He turned in your direction, a smirk forming on his lips.

“I told them to wait for Gi-hun, but they wouldn’t listen.” You shook your head, looking down at the unconscious men. “We can’t just leave them here…” You sighed, then turning to your husband, you raised your eyebrows. “I admit I thought Min-seok would slow you down, but clearly I was mistaken.”

Your husband rested his hands on your hips, pulling you in for a deep kiss. After breaking away, you walked over to the stroller to see your son fast asleep, completely unaware of the commotion that just took place.

Turning back to your husband, you saw him lift Mr. Kim’s body from the pile of trash. He gestured for you to enter the rundown building in front of you. You picked up his briefcase and started pushing the stroller towards the entrance. 

“We should get moving,” you said. “Gi-hun’s on his way.”

A cry shook you from your light snooze. 

You stood up from the armchair you were resting in to soothe your son. Picking him up from the stroller’s bassinet, you rocked him gently, but he continued to whine. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hungry?” You tried to nurse him but he refused to latch. Sighing, you realized that he probably just wanted his father. Ironically, the man who frightened most people was the most comforting person to your son. 

You left your room and started making your way down to the other end of the hallway where your husband and the two men were. 

Once outside the room, you heard muffled gasps and screams from behind the door. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok must have finally regained consciousness. 

Pressing Min-seok closer to your chest in an attempt to block out the sounds, you took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. There the two men were, bound and tied to two chairs facing each other. They had even been gagged with bone-shaped gags. Your husband and the two men turned to face you at the doorway. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok’s eyes widened in shock at seeing you, while your husband seemed puzzled, his eyes softening upon seeing his son.

“Mini needed his dad.” You passed the fussy baby to his father. You avoided eye contact with Mr. Kim and Woo-seok, ignoring their muffled complaints. Looking down at the table in front of you, you saw a revolver and 5 bullets lined in a row. Your breath hitched, your mind suddenly dizzy. It was only then that you realized what game was about to begin. A game that would surely result in death. 

“Min-seok-ah, what’s wrong?” Your husband brought his son up to stare into his eyes, a playful expression on his face. “Did you miss me? Did you miss appa?”

The baby erupted into a fit of giggles. For a split second, you could see a crack in your husband’s façade — a trace of the gentle, loving smile that was only reserved for you and your son.

Even though you knew that Mr. Kim and Woo-seok couldn’t escape their bounds, you suddenly became nervous. They now knew your husband’s weakness: his son. Although there was a slim chance they would leave this room alive, you didn’t want to take any chances.

“I’ll take him back now, he needs to eat.” You opened your arms to receive your son. Before passing him back, your husband kissed the top of your son’s head. He picked up the revolver from the table. Your heart dropped. Soon, Mr. Kim and Woo-seok would be dead. 

“Be gentle with them,” you whispered to your husband. “They’ve been good to me and Min-seok.” You kissed his cheek, knowing your words wouldn’t make a difference.

As you turned to leave, your husband sent a small wave towards your son, his smiling expression betraying the act he was about to commit. You closed the door and retreated to your room. 

You sat back on the armchair and unfastened the buttons of your shirt in preparation to nurse your son. Distantly, you heard classical music and grimaced. Your husband loved to put on a show.

As you fed Min-seok, you gazed down at him lovingly. His eyes were closed as he suckled, a peaceful look on his face. For a moment, all felt right in the world.

Bang!

You tensed at the sound of a gunshot, your grip on Min-seok tightening slightly. Even though the men were at the other end of the hallway, the muffled noise was loud enough to make you flinch. 

Unsurprisingly, Min-seok unlatched himself from your breast and started crying. You let out a heavy sigh, lifting him up to soothe him and rub soft circles on his back. You wished things didn’t have to be this way.

After Min-seok had settled down, you buttoned your shirt up and began organizing your things to leave for Gi-hun’s motel.

The door of the room opened and your husband entered, specks of blood staining his cheek and the collar of his white shirt.

“Ready?” He asked nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just killed a man.

You nodded, holding Min-seok in one arm and your purse in the other. Your husband helped you pack the stroller and Min-seok’s bag into the car. While your husband went back into the building, you settled Min-seok into his car seat and got in the driver’s seat. To your surprise, your husband returned with a blindfolded and bound Woo-seok, who looked as if he was unconscious. Your husband threw him in the trunk before getting in the back seat with Min-seok to hide. If you somehow passed Gi-hun on the road, he would be looking for your husband, not you.

“Did you get any new information?” You asked as you started the car, hands clutching the steering wheel. 

“We knew most of it already,” your husband replied, “It was quite the exciting game, however. Almost as exciting as the games we play at home.” You groaned. Of course, nothing got him going like the fear of others.

Once you arrived at the motel, you noticed it was starting to rain. You and your husband quickly unloaded Min-seok and Woo-seok from the car. Your husband broke the shabby lock and you all shuffled into the hotel through the back exit. 

Your husband dropped Woo-seok off in a random room while you and Min-seok settled into a room near the back exit.

It was a drafty old motel, with broken furniture and faded wallpaper. You found a table that seemed sturdy enough and placed the bassinet on it. Min-seok stared at you with his big, round eyes that reminded you so much of your husband. At this point, he was truly what kept you going. You lifted him up and began rocking him against your chest. 

“We’re almost done here.” You said more to yourself than to the baby. “Then, we can go somewhere safe and relax.”

Your husband soon entered the room and went to wrap his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest, careful not to crush Min-seok. He rested his head on top of yours.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you whispered, “I don’t think I can face Gi-hun. Now that Mr. Kim is dead, I...” You trailed off. 

Your husband lifted your chin to make you look into his eyes, which showed no trace of fear or remorse. “It had to be done,” he stated plainly. “Unfortunate, yes, but we have to follow the plan. I will deal with 456.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your breathing becoming uneven. “But that game…” Your voice shook. “P-please give him a fair chance. I can’t lose you, but at the same time…” You paused, taking a breath. “…He’s a good man. They all were.” Your eyes fell to rest on your son. “They treated us well.”

Your husband tutted, bringing his lips to graze your ear. “I thought you said you were cut out for this?” You stayed silent, unable to speak. 

Noticing your apprehension, he whispered, “No matter what happens, know that I love you.” You looked back up at his face, the specks of blood adding to your feelings of uneasiness. 

For the first time in years, you were afraid. Afraid for your husband, your future, and yes, somehow even for Gi-hun. 

Letting out a shaky sigh, you swallowed the lump in your throat. You had to trust in your husband’s confidence. He believed in you, so you should believe in him. If Gi-hun had to die, so be it.

“Go get ready. Gi-hun should be here soon,” you said, turning to fish something out of your purse. You handed your husband a yakult drink. 

“You haven’t had much today, right? Drink this before he gets here.” He nodded.

He took your son from you and whispered a few words to him before kissing the top of his head. After handing Min-seok back to you, he pulled you in for a kiss. Not as intense as they usually were, but one that reminded you of the man you fell in love with. 

He turned to leave, shooting you a soft smile before clicking the door shut. You let out a sigh before returning your attention to your son.

It was only a matter of time before Gi-hun arrived, and your lie would finally be revealed.

tags: @muchwita; @beebeechaos; @preppyfella; @buckitostan

also i didn't say this before but the way gong yoo says appa in the show gets me every time, so i just had to include it😔

[deesseshesca]

PAC : First time feeling *that* chemistry with him. (Dual POV)

(SINGLE SINCE BIRTH - ERA ~2 )

My soul craves some slow love song...

PILE 1

Is actually not going to be the first time you feel this chemistry.

You always felt it but always find a away to resist. Fighting the connection on both side.

His mom died. Maybe one of he challenges you will be facing together before you both commit to surrender to this love after months of playing cat and mouse is the death of his mother.

Both of you have a fear of being vulnerable which dramatically slowed this relationship.

Her POV The air was thick with the scent of roses, heady and intoxicating, blooming wildly around the edges of the garden. Evening had settled, painting the sky in dusky shades of lavender and gold, and the world felt quieter here softer. I stood by the fountain, my fingertips brushing the cool marble edge as I stared at the rippling water. Reflections danced on the surface, fractured and shifting, much like the emotions stirring inside me.

<<I didn’t expect to feel this.>>

Not after everything. Not after the walls I built so carefully, protecting the parts of me that once gave too much and received too little. I had walked away from him before more than once not because I didn’t care, but because I needed to know who I was without him. I needed to find the version of myself that wouldn’t settle for half-hearted promises and restless nights filled with questions.

But I wasn’t that woman anymore.

<<I see it now — he’s different.>>

His edges have softened, the fire that once burned too hot, tempered now with something richer, something steadier. His ego no longer fills the space between us, and I know deep in my bones that he’s ready. His family knows it too. I see it in their eyes when they look at me. Acceptance. Warmth. They see me as his future, even before I’ve fully allowed myself to step into that role.

But the truth was I had been fighting this. Fighting us.

<<And I’m so tired of running.>>

The moon hung low in the sky, her quiet light washing over the garden, whispering secrets only I could hear. I wasn’t afraid anymore. The unknown didn’t scare me the way it once had. Because this time, I wasn’t standing on shaky ground. I was standing on the edge of something solid.

And when I turned to look at him, standing a few feet away, watching me with that quiet intensity I had come to know so well…

<<I knew it was time to stop fighting.>>

His Mother’s POV The evening air carried the faintest breeze, enough to rustle the leaves but not disturb the peace that had settled over the garden. I stood near the patio, half-listening to the murmured conversations behind me, but my eyes were fixed on them.

My son. And her.

<<I’ve seen this look before.>>

Not on him. Never on him. But I’ve seen it in the eyes of men who have found something rare something worth holding onto.

He’s watching her like he’s afraid to blink, like she might disappear if he does. But it’s not desperation in his eyes. It’s reverence.

<<My boy learned the hard way.>>

I remember how stubborn he used to be so caught up in his pride, in proving himself. He didn’t know how to bend, and love requires a man who can bend without breaking. But something changed. I see it in the way his shoulders aren’t as rigid, in how he stands beside her, not in front of her.

He’s quiet now. Not because he’s holding back, but because he’s listening.

And her?

<<She’s not running anymore.>>

I’ve watched her for a long time, watched the way her guard would rise and fall depending on his mood. But tonight? I don’t see the woman who once held herself apart, protecting what was left of her heart. I see a woman who’s ready. Her eyes don’t hold doubt anymore. There’s only knowing.

She’s fought this love. I could feel it every time she stepped back, every time she hesitated, weighing her heart against her fears. But now…

<<She’s choosing him.>>

And he knows it.

The way they move unconsciously mirroring each other, as if their souls had already learned the steps to a dance they hadn’t even realized they were performing it’s breathtaking.

He’s ready to give her everything. And for once, he’s not afraid to show it.

<<This is love.>>

Not the easy kind. The kind forged through fire and time. The kind that bends but never breaks.

And as I watched them standing in the glow of a fading sun, their future stretched out before them I knew.

<<They’ve found their way.>>

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PILE 2

Her POV The air smelled of jasmine and warm spice, the kind that lingers long after the sun dips beneath the horizon. The soft hum of conversation filled the courtyard, where fairy lights twisted through ivy-covered trellises, casting a golden glow on the polished stone beneath my heels. I felt the heat of the summer night cling to my skin, a sensual reminder that life was ripe and full of promise.

I stood with ease, spine straight, head high but not from pride. I was light in a way that only comes after shedding burdens I once thought were stitched into my bones. I was whole now, and love no longer felt like a battlefield. It felt like home waiting to be built. And as my eyes landed on him, across the crowded space, something shifted.

<<I see him before he notices me a presence that pulses against the noise, commanding without trying.>> He looked unsure, though. A flicker of tension in the line of his jaw, a restless energy in the way his fingers grazed the edge of his glass. I could feel it that uncertainty, that hesitation and it only made me more aware of how steady I had become.

When his eyes finally found mine, I didn’t look away. I let him see. All of it. The woman who had rebuilt herself. The woman who no longer needed to be saved but was ready to be chosen. His gaze sharpened, and I felt the heat coil low in my belly.

<<I know he feels it too.>> The spark. The unspoken question hanging between us, thick and sweet as the summer air. I took a step forward, feeling a quiet power hum through me.

I was ready.

His POV The night was too still. Too perfect. The kind of night where everything feels suspended in time where decisions can’t be undone once made. The courtyard was a masterpiece of intimacy, tucked away from the noise of the city. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, throwing patterns across the stone floor, but my focus was caught elsewhere.

<<I see her.>> And the world narrows.

She moved like certainty, her presence cutting through the crowd like silk through air. I had been restless all night, the weight of everything I carried pressing against my ribs, but when her gaze caught mine I forgot how to breathe.

She was unreadable, and that terrified me. I could feel the space she had carved for herself, the freedom she had fought for. I had laid everything out, no walls, no illusions. Just me. Wanting her.

<<I know she has choices.>> I had seen it in her eyes, the quiet acknowledgment that she wasn’t bound by anyone’s expectations. She could walk away and not look back. But damn, I didn’t want her to.

My heart pounded, each beat a plea I couldn’t voice. The fear gnawed at me, but beneath it was something else. Something stronger.

<<I would give her everything.>> And I wasn’t sure if that would be enough.

But as she stepped toward me, I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. She wasn’t walking away. She was walking toward me. And in that moment, I knew...

I was ready to risk it all.

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PILE 3

Her POV The night was alive, pulsing with an undercurrent of something electric. Music drifted through the crowded rooftop bar, a low bass that thrummed beneath my skin. City lights stretched out around us, glittering like promises that never quite delivered. But I wasn’t thinking about promises.

<<I was thinking about him.>>

He stood across the room, effortlessly charming as always, his laughter spilling into the air like a melody I couldn’t escape. My pulse quickened not with nerves, but with something far more dangerous. Obsession.

<<And I wasn’t even trying to hide it.>>

My eyes found him without meaning to, drawn like a magnet, and I knew he felt it. Felt me. Even when he wasn’t looking, he knew. It was in the way his body angled slightly toward mine, like gravity itself was conspiring to pull us together. But beneath all that wanting, there was a quiet war raging in me.

I didn’t trust this feeling.

<<I’ve played this game before.>>

The spark. The pull. The endless chase that left me burned when I finally caught what I thought I wanted. He was different, though. Too different. And that scared me more than anything. Because if I let myself believe he was the one, I’d be giving him a power I swore I’d never hand over again.

But damn…

<<He makes it so easy to forget my own rules.>>

Every glance, every touch, every low murmur of my name lured me deeper into this mess I swore I wouldn’t make. And yet here I was. Caught in the web. The worst part?

<<I didn’t even want to escape.>>

His POV The night stretched out like a canvas, painted with the warm glow of city lights and the buzz of possibility. Laughter echoed around us, but my world had narrowed to one point of focus.

Her.

<<I could feel her eyes on me.>>

Even when she thought she was subtle, her gaze was a weight I carried like a secret. And I liked it. No I loved it. There was no hiding how she felt. The way her lips parted slightly when she looked at me. The way her body leaned in, even when her mind tried to pull her back.

<<She was obsessed, and I knew it.>>

But she was fighting it. Fighting me. And I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t some polished dream I was chaos wrapped in charm, adventure wrapped in uncertainty. And she… she liked control.

But love? Love didn’t play by her rules.

<<I wasn’t here to play it safe.>>

I wasn’t looking for guarantees or carefully laid plans. I wanted the ride the messy, unpredictable, breathtaking ride that came with loving a woman who didn’t know how to surrender. And damn, was she worth the risk.

Her fear didn’t scare me. If anything, it made me want her more. She was standing at the edge, and I could feel her heart pounding just as loudly as mine. She was so close to giving in, to letting go of all the walls she��d built around herself.

<<And I wasn’t going to push her.>>

No. I was going to let her come to me.

Because I knew, deep down, she couldn’t resist this.

<<Not me.>>

I wasn’t a destination. I was the journey. And I could feel her soul even if her mind was fighting it ready to take that leap.

So, I stood there, steady and sure, letting her chase her own thoughts, knowing they’d always lead back to me.

<<This wasn’t about winning.>>

It was about us. About feeling every twist and turn, every high and low. I wasn’t offering her a perfect ending. I was offering her a story worth living.

And when her eyes met mine again wide, hungry, and just a little afraid I knew.

<<She was already falling.>>

And I was ready to catch her.

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[marvelstan0905]

Hi! I was wondering if you could a kenji x female reader where we've both not been very intimate in a long time because kenji's career and ultraman has kept him really busy and one night reader confronts him about it and then they argue and then reader gives him silent treatment and he ends up eating her out

"Let me make it up to you"

BF!Kenji Sato X GF!Reader [Oneshot :Angst-Smut-Fluff]

TW:arguement/silent treatment/smut/eating out/oral(f!receiving)/afab reader/female bodied reader/fingering/petnames/shouting/mixed POV/not proofread yet/angst to smut/swearing

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

"God! Why can't you just give me a break Y/n!? I'm so overwhelmed and so busy!" Kenji snapped exasperated. The two of you had been fighting for a few minutes now. You just offered to cuddle for a little bit, just hoping that Kenji could let off some steam since getting really liked cuddles and his life's been so hectic. As the good girlfriend you were, you were just worried and concerned. You couldn't do much and that helpless feeling just didn't sit well for you. The least you could is be there for your boyfriend and offer him some comfort. "I just need space! Lots of it!"

"Kenji I'm just trying to give you comfort-"

"I don't want your comfort! You're so damn clingy! God. Can you just leave me alone?"Kenji sighed in annoyance. My heart pangs feeling a tightening feeling within your chest. It hurt. Raising my hands in surrender, I sighed. Those words stung. Is that really what he thought of me? I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and excuse it as the overwhelming and frustration he was feeling.

"I'll leave you alone." Was all you said before grabbing a hold of your jacket, purse and phone. With a harsh wipe of your cheeks, you left the house.

Kenji who was sitting on the couch with his back turned to the door sighed and ran a hand through his , already disheveled, raven hair. Kenji felt a heat and heaviness through his chest. He felt really guilty and bad. God what had he done?

"Way to go, Ken. Losing everybody and everything left and right. As always" Kenji exhaled before sliding his long calloused hands down his face.

Few Days Later

Silent treatment. No texts. No calls.

Just you like you promised, you would leave Kenji alone. Even when he did call and text, you wouldn't answer. As you made dinner in your cold, lonely apartment you heard the sound of keys jiggle in the door way. With a raised eyebrow, you grabbed the bat which Kenji gifted you and waited for the perpetrator to come through the hallway. As soon as I saw a shadow I swung with all my might.

"Baby! Wait! Y/n! It's me!" Kenji exclaimed raising his hands in surrender as he luckily dodged the powerful swing. God, he was glad he taught you how to swing but if he wasn't careful, he would've lost his head. With a sigh of relief and groan, you dropped the bat and turned to go back to making dinner with not a word. Kenji exhaled before following you into the kitchen. "H..How have you been, babe? I've called and texted you..alot."

Silence.

Kenji leaned against the counted adjacent to you and gently took a hold of your hand. With a scoff,you pulled your hand away. Kenji's frown deepened. His eyes had deep bags and he truly looked as if he hadn't slept in days. It didn't seem like he had eaten considering the dullness of his slightly sunken cheeks.

"Sweetie. Please? Can we talk? I'm so sorry. I really need to hear your voice. Even if you're gonna curse me out or whatever..just please"Kenji pleaded. Nothing. With a turn of a knob, you turned off the stove. Kenji couldn't stand the silence anymore. God, he couldn't. With a gentle grasp of your forearms , Kenji turned you to look at him. With a blank expression you turned to face him with eyes void of emotions. Even if you were still upset, you did love the bastard and would hear him out.

"Honey. I know I have no excuse for how I treated you, how I spoke to you, the horrible horrible words I said to you. I truly am sorry. I didn't know how good I had it till I didn't hear your voice or saw you anymore. You're everything to me and you just wanted my time and love but I was stupid and took my frustrations out on you. The only person who i truly have right now. Please...Please forgive me. Even if it's not now..I'm just begging to hear your voice" Kenji spoke sincerely. I sighed and crossed my arms. Those goddamn sad eyes. The man looked like a kicked puppy. Sad and lost.

With a gentle flick of his forehead, you mumbled out "Fine..I forgive you. Doesn't mean I'll forget it...atleast not yet. You really hurt my feelings. I was really just trying to help and spend time with you. You're really mean you know that right?"

Kenji felt like he finally take a breath of fresh air as he pulled you into his strong arms and placed a kiss onto your forehead. He felt so relieved to hear your voice. That beautiful voice. The voice that soothed all the storms in his heart. "I know. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Just..please don't leave. I love you so much"

"You're kinda stuck with me, idiot. Even if your behavior says otherwise. I love you too" I grumbled out whiles laying my head against his chest. Kenji felt the relieve wash over his body. With a grasp of your soft thighs in his large hands, Kenji picked you up and placed me onto the edge of the counter.

Kenji looked deep into my eyes and pressed his forehead against mine "I'm really sorry. Please forgive me. I'll make it up. I swear it. All the cuddles and kisses. I won't neglect you again, okay?"

The couple shared kisses and cute nuzzles. They still hadn't properly talked it out but this was definetly the start of talking it out and sorting it out. Kenju nestled his head into his girlfriend's neck and breathed in her scent. God, he missed her feel, touch, smell and taste. Now, probably was the most ideal but the man was hungry and he hadn't had a proper meal in a few days. With a teasing nibble to his girlfriend's neck, Kenji slid his hands down and underneath the oversized t-shirt his girlfriend wore.

"You know..I missed you so much. So so much " Kenji whispered mischievously whiles sliding his large fingers up her thighs, sliding his fingers in between her legs whiles caressing her inner thighs. You raised a brow, but didn't protest. You did miss his touch and..talents.

⚠️SMUT STARTS BELOW HERE⚠️

"Mhmm. I missed you too, baby but what are you up to?" I questioned skeptically his hands inched closer to my clothed heat. Kenji pulled me closer and spread my legs wider.

"I'm making it up to you. I have to start somewhere, right? I really wanna show how sorry I am, baby."Kenji breathed lowly, with faux innocence. His methodic and skilled habds, ripped your thin panties off and disregarded them somewhere on the floor. With a yelp, you closed your thighs feeling the cool air against your core.

"B-Babe! H-Hey! Thats the 20th pair you've ripped up! C'mon!" I whined whiles shakily holding my thighs together. I was shaking from anticipation and slight frustration.

"Oh I'm sorry,baby. Guess I don't know my own strength. Guess you'll need something to warm you up. I know the perfect thing" Your boyfriend rasped, 'apologetically' as he forced open those soft thighs, plush legs of yours and held them open. His beautiful mauve eyes had darkened, completely dilating as his eyes laid on your glistening lips. "Aww, how cute. You missed me that much? You're so wet already"

With a denying scoff, you looked away with a sheepish flush on your cheeks. "S-Shut up. Put that tongue and mouth to good use"

"Okay. Okay. I'm getting to it. Let's get something straight though.. I'm in charge" Kenji whispered firmly into your ear before nibbling onto your earlobe. My breath hitched and my blood ran hot. God, he was so hot. Your boyfriend gently but firmly pushed you onto your back on the kitchen counter before holding your legs open by the knees. "Mhmm you smell so good. I missed you, my love. So much"

Kenji uttered as he took a deep inhale of the scent of your arousal. With a small whimper, you could only nod. He's already got you tongue tied. My breath hitched.

"W-Will you be gentle?" I breathed whiles leaning into the kisses that he peppered my neck. It had been a while since we made love. His hands teased at my entrance.

Kenji smirks against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "Gentle? I don't make promises like that, darling. But I'll make sure you feel every inch of my cock as I fill you up." His fingers tease your entrance, circling the sensitive bud before pushing inside.

"T-Thought you always keep promises?" I gasped feeling his long fingers stretching my velvelty walls open. He gives a low chuckle, his fingers curling inside of you.

"I do try to keep my promises. But I also like to keep things interesting. Plus I'm making up to you, babe" His thumb begins to circle your clit as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you, stretching you wide.

"I-Im not gonna be able to walk tomorrow, huh?" I mewled whiles spreading my legs. I gasped as I felt his long, warm tongue at my entrance. Kenji smirks up at you, his tongue sliding up to your clit, teasing it with every flick.

"Oh, I hope not. I want you to feel me inside of you for days." His fingers continue to fuck you hard and fast, driving you closer and closer to the edge. That's it. All Kenji wanted and needed. To make you feel good, to be with you, to hear you.

"D-Dear christ..K-Kenji that's vulgar" I moaned as my walls convulsed around his fingers. I flushed feeling the tip of his tongue slide through my pussy lips.

Kenji chuckled, his fingers thrusting deep inside you as he begins to fuck you harder. "I never claimed I was gonna be a gentleman today, my love. I like it dirty and rough. You know that? I wanna make you feel so good and make up for the time we missed"

His tongue laps at your entrance, licking up your juices as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"C-Clearly" I moaned. My moans rose in volume and pitch as my hands tugged at his hair "H-How dirty can that m-mouth get?" He smirks against you, his tongue flicking against your clit. God, Kenji was enjoying this. He missed his your taste and scent.

"I'll show you just how dirty this mouth can get. Im gonna make a mess of you"Kenji promises as he begins to suck on your clit, his fingers thrusting hard and fast inside of you.

"God...mhm!" I moaned as my body began to wirthe and squirm beneath him. It felt so good. God I could feel his long fingers stretching me out and brushing against my sensitive walls."G-God I m-missed you!"

His voice is husky and rough as he continues to suck and lick at your clit, his fingers pistoning in and out at a punishing pace. "I know, baby. I missed you more. Let me hear that voice of yours" Kenji demands as he smirks up at you, his hand still working you hard. That beautiful voice of yours. Those days without hearing you, without feeling you, without tasting you were PURE torture. "Oh, I'm just getting started."

"K-Kenji..i-im uh..close" I purred as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I was so close. So close to that euphoric finish line. His fingers curl up, hitting that sweet spot inside of you.He chuckles against you, his tongue continuing to swirl around your clit. I moaned.

Eventually I ended up screaming as I climaxed. I was in heaven seeing literal stars. I cursed making a mess all over his fingers as I screamed"O-Oh God! F-Fuxk! K-Kenji!"

Kenji's fingers continue to move inside of you, slowing down now that you've climaxed, though he doesn't remove them just yet. "Good girl. Now for round 2" His voice is husky with desire, his tongue coming out to lick at your juices still dripping from you. I squirmed beneath him as I felt my body calming down from the high. I was so sensitive.

"I love you so much. Now let me make it up to you"

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Coaching Violation: Part 4

paige x azzi

a/n: i'm sorry for leaving y'all hanging last time...

word count: 5.1k

Bellagio Hotel – Hallway, Outside Room 1125

Paige’s POV

She’d been standing there too long.

Long enough for the hallway’s patterned carpet to start spinning under her sneakers. Long enough to memorize every chip in the faux-gold trim of the room number plaque.

Room 1125.

She should’ve turned around.

Should’ve walked the strip, gone back to her room, counted the ceiling tiles, anything other than this. But her legs had moved before her logic caught up. And now her knuckles had already touched the door.

Twice.

It was too late to run without looking ridiculous.

So she stood there—

Heart thudding.

Throat tight.

Eyes closed.

Until the latch turned.

And a voice said—

“Coach?”

Her stomach dropped straight through the floor.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Paige’s eyes flew open, already mid-rehearsed apology—

But it wasn’t Azzi.

It was KK.

Standing there with one sock half-off her foot, hair messy, and the world’s most suspicious eyebrow climbing up her forehead.

“…KK?”

KK didn’t move. “So… you knocking on every door tonight, or just the one that used to belong to Fudd?”

Paige’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I—no. I thought—this was—Shit.” She coughed, tried to pull herself upright, posture tight like a soldier. “Sorry. Wrong room. I was—uh—just checking in. On something.”

KK leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirk sharp enough to slice through Paige’s panic.

“You were checking in… on the door?”

Paige winced. “Just—yeah, I’m gonna go. Sorry to—bother you. It’s late. I’ll just—”

She was already retreating, hands up in surrender, halfway down the hall.

KK didn’t say anything at first.

Just watched her walk like she was studying a film clip in slow motion.

Then, just before the door closed—

“Azzi asked to switch rooms,” she said, voice light but layered. “Told me at the front desk something about 1125 being a bad luck number.”

That stopped Paige in her tracks.

“Oh,” she said. “Gotcha. Makes sense.”

She kept walking.

One foot in front of the other.

Keep it together.

Don’t turn around.

But just as she reached the corner, KK’s voice chased her again—casual, sweet, and absolutely intentional.

“My original room was 1333.”

Paige didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

The door shut behind her with a soft click.

And all she could hear now was the blood in her ears… and the echo of the number 1125 ringing like a bell she couldn’t unring.

Bellagio Hotel – Hallway, Just After 1 AM

Azzi’s POV

She hadn’t been able to sleep. Not really.

Even after changing rooms. Even after throwing every pillow off the bed and burying herself beneath the duvet. Her body still hummed with restlessness — too sore to sleep, too wired to lie still, too aware of where she almost had to sleep tonight.

Room 1125.

If she hadn’t caught herself at the check-in desk… if she hadn’t insisted on switching—

She would’ve been back in the same room where everything had changed.

The same sheets. The same walls. The same view of the Strip through a half-closed curtain.

Alone this time. Again.

Azzi pressed her palms to her eyes, exhaled sharp through her nose.

The past few days had already run her raw — physically, emotionally, in ways she couldn’t name. The week had chewed her up and spit her out and now here she was, icing her knees at 1am because she couldn’t figure out how else to feel okay.

She shoved her arms through the sleeves of her hoodie, grabbed the hotel ice bucket, and padded into the hallway barefoot in hotel slippers.

It took her three tries to find a working machine.

She finally filled the bucket, wincing as the chill hit her hands. She shook it off, turned the corner toward her room—

—and froze.

Paige.

Standing in front of the door to her room.

Hair down, hoodie loose, hands shoved in the front pocket like she was trying to hide the fact they were shaking.

Azzi ducked slightly, stayed behind the corner. Watched her.

Paige looked like she was mid-argument — not with anyone, just herself. Her body shifted slightly. She stepped toward the door. Then back. Then leaned her forehead against the wall like she hated herself for even being there.

Azzi’s stomach twisted.

She waited. And waited. Until Paige finally turned, ready to walk away.

And then Azzi stepped forward.

“Uhhh…” her voice broke the silence like a dropped pin. “If you’re looking for Coach KK, she’s not gonna be in there.”

Paige jolted.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide — caught in the act. Like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar. Except the cookies were heartbreak and old feelings and a hotel room full of memories she clearly hadn’t buried as deep as she thought.

“I, uh…” Paige started, blinking. “I thought—this was—”

Azzi just raised an eyebrow, ice bucket still in hand. “You sure you’re a head coach? ‘Cause your recon sucks.”

That earned her a very reluctant, very crooked smile from Paige. The kind that only came out when she was completely thrown off.

Azzi’s heart shouldn’t have leapt. But it did.

And now they were standing there again — just the two of them — in what felt like the same hallway, the same hotel, the same goddamn story they never finished.

And neither of them moved.

The ice began to melt, drip by drip, onto Azzi’s wrist.

Still, she didn’t move.

Paige’s eyes dropped to the ice bucket in Azzi’s hands, then flicked back to her face.

“I already checked 1125,” she said quietly. “KK opened the door.”

Azzi’s brow furrowed. “Wait… you went to—?”

“I was looking for you,” Paige said before she could think better of it. The words left her mouth like an exhale she’d been holding all week. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Azzi stood there, stunned into silence for a second too long.

“You were looking for me?” Her voice was small, caught somewhere between disbelief and hope.

Paige nodded.

“I was,” she said, and then softer — barely audible — “I am.”

Azzi didn’t speak. Just stepped past Paige toward her door and slid the key card through the lock.

The light turned green.

She pushed it open, stood in the doorway, then turned her head just enough to look at Paige again.

“You coming in?”

Paige hesitated. One heartbeat. Two.

Then she stepped inside.

Paige’s POV

The room was dim and quiet — too quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioning and the soft clink of ice in the bucket Azzi set down.

Paige stepped inside like she didn’t quite trust the floor to hold her. Her eyes moved cautiously, taking in everything — the slightly rumpled bed, the duffel bag half-zipped on the chair, Azzi’s hoodie draped over the desk chair like it lived there.

Then her eyes landed on her.

Azzi moved toward the bed, a small wince tugging at her brow as she shifted her leg. She didn’t say anything at first, just reached for the ice like this was routine.

“Wait,” Paige said, voice a little too sharp, a little too nervous. “Can I… help?”

Azzi looked at her, surprised.

But she nodded.

Paige crossed the room slowly, every step more uncertain than the last. She grabbed the towel from the bathroom counter, returned to kneel at the edge of the bed, gently took the bag of ice from Azzi’s hand, and wrapped it.

“You’ve gotta elevate it,” she mumbled, like she was trying to justify why she was here at all. She grabbed one of the pillows and tucked it carefully under Azzi’s calf, adjusting until it looked comfortable. Her fingers brushed skin once — the barest touch — but it lit her up from the inside.

“There,” Paige said softly. “So it doesn’t swell overnight.”

Azzi leaned back, exhaling, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly.

Paige sat on the edge of the bed, not too close but not far either. Her hands found each other in her lap. Fidgeting.

Azzi broke the silence first.

“So… why were you looking for me?”

Paige looked down at her hands. Swallowed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said after a beat. “Not after seeing your name… and that room number. It just… it felt like the universe was trying to screw with us.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh — just one breathy note — but it was enough to make Paige look up.

That sound did something to her. Made her chest loosen just a little. Gave her the courage to keep going.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I couldn’t stop thinking about how it must’ve felt for you. Being assigned that room. And I didn’t… I didn’t want you to feel alone in that.”

Azzi tilted her head, studying her.

“That it?” she asked. “Or was there something else you were hoping to say?”

Paige didn’t answer right away.

Her breath caught.

Her hands stopped fidgeting.

And for the first time all night, she let herself really look at Azzi.

Like maybe this was the moment she had to stop pretending.

Paige drew in a shaky breath, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor like it might anchor her. Her voice was low when she finally spoke.

“I’ve been trying to convince myself for the last ten months that what happened between us didn’t mean anything. That it was just a moment. Just… a night.”

She looked up, just enough to meet Azzi’s eyes.

“But the truth is — it meant everything. And that terrified me more than I’ve ever admitted to anyone. Because you made me feel something I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. It was different with you. It is different.”

Paige let the silence sit for a beat, the weight of her words still catching in her throat.

“I’ve never been good at feelings. I’m guessing that’s not exactly news to you.”

A soft, bitter laugh escaped her.

“And then the injury happened. My entire world flipped. One minute I was still trying to process what you meant to me… and the next, I was being told I’d never play again. I was angry. I still am. But more than anything — I was lost. And instead of reaching out, instead of saying something… I shut down. I disappeared.”

Her voice cracked.

“I wanted to text you. I wanted to call. A thousand times. But I didn’t know how. And now? Now I see you every day. And it hurts. I’m still scared. And I’m still mad at myself. Because I don’t know how to fix what I broke… and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all of this.”

She finally looked at Azzi again.

Eyes soft. Unarmored.

“And I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Azzi’s POV

Azzi sat still, barely breathing.

Her leg was propped up on the pillow Paige had placed, the ice numbing everything but the thrum in her chest. Paige’s words still echoed in the quiet — words Azzi had once begged for in her head, long after the messages stopped and the silence became routine.

She wanted to pinch herself. Honestly, she considered it. Maybe she’d fallen asleep with the ice on and this was just her brain playing some cruel, perfect fantasy.

But then Paige’s hand settled gently on her leg — not possessive, not hesitant. Just… there. Steady. Real.

It made Azzi blink hard.

Because somehow, Paige always knew. She always saw her — even in the moments Azzi wasn’t sure she was visible. That touch said, I’m here. It said, Believe me.

Azzi looked at her. Paige, in all her mess and fear and softness. The same Paige who once left her with no explanation… was now the one showing up.

She didn’t know what to say. Her throat felt too tight.

All she could manage was a quiet breath and a softer look.

She’s scared too, Azzi thought. But she’s here.

And right now, all Azzi knew — more than anything — was that she didn’t want her to leave.

Not again.

Azzi shifted slightly, careful not to jostle the ice. Her voice came out quieter than she meant, but there was no mistaking the truth in it.

“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do either,” she said, eyes never leaving Paige’s. “But ignoring whatever this is… definitely isn’t working.”

Paige didn’t speak at first, just nodded — slow, heavy, like the weight of that admission was something she’d been carrying too.

Azzi drew in a shaky breath. “I’m not gonna beg you,” she added, eyes dipping down to where Paige’s hand still rested on her leg. “But I really… I really wish you’d stay.”

She looked back up, a flicker of something raw in her eyes. “Please don’t pull away. Not this time.”

That silence between them thickened again, but this time it didn’t feel like avoidance — it felt like recognition. Like finally being on the same page, even if neither of them knew how to read it yet.

Paige’s thumb brushed absently against Azzi’s knee, her voice low, “We can’t do what we did again… not now anyway.”

Azzi nods, eyes soft. “I know. But… can we just talk? Like it’s just us again? Like nothing else matters?”

Paige hesitates.

Then: “Yeah. We can talk.”

Azzi shifts, patting the spot next to her against the headboard. “You don’t have to sit all stiff like that.”

It takes Paige a second, but eventually, she moves — slow and careful — settling beside Azzi, backs pressed against the pillows, legs stretched out over the blanket.

The silence between them isn’t sharp anymore. It starts awkward, a few stilted jokes and questions, but gradually it softens. The rhythm of them finds its way back.

They talk about old college memories. Road games. Dumb locker room dares. Paige tells a story about her rookie year in the league, how she got hazed with glitter and a karaoke mic in the middle of a team dinner. Azzi shares how she once fell asleep mid-ice bath and got locked in the training room.

Laughter bubbles up between them like it used to — quiet but real. Comfortable. Familiar.

Then somewhere between a memory and a sigh, Paige shakes her head. “I still think it’s wild you eat Hot Cheetos before tip-off.”

Azzi grins. “You’re just mad it worked.”

Paige chuckles. “I’m mad it didn’t wreck your stomach.”

Azzi turns toward her. “You remember everything I say, huh?”

Paige’s smile falters slightly. “Only the important stuff.”

Azzi studies her for a beat too long. “So you remember what I said that night?”

The air stills again — quieter this time, heavier.

Paige meets her eyes. “Every word.”

Azzi’s voice lowers. “Even the part where I said… I wasn’t used to someone staying?”

Paige doesn’t blink. “That’s the part that’s haunted me the most.”

For a long moment, neither of them says anything.

Then Azzi, soft: “So stay.”

Paige doesn’t respond out loud. But she does. She stays.

And by the time the clock reads 4:47 a.m., Paige shifts slightly. “You need to get some sleep if you’re gonna survive practice.”

Azzi nods, but doesn’t move. “Just… will you hold me? Just until you have to go. Please don’t pull away. Not tonight.”

Paige swallows hard. Her instinct is to run again. But this time she doesn’t say anything.

She just opens her arms.

Azzi folds into them like muscle memory, like the pause between heartbeats. They lie there, tangled in silence — no kissing, no urgency — just the ache of two people who aren’t ready to admit how badly they still want to be held.

When the sun starts to creep in under the curtains, Paige finally shifts.

Azzi doesn’t ask her to stay again.

She doesn’t need to.

Because when Paige gets up, they both share a look. A quiet nod.

A shared truth that says:

I don’t know what we’re doing… but I’m willing to find out.

Team Breakfast – Hotel Restaurant, 8:03 AM

Paige’s POV

The restaurant buzzed with the usual morning chaos — trays clattering, half-asleep players in mismatched sweats, a line snaking around the coffee station like it was the only thing keeping them alive.

Paige had already claimed her seat at the end of the long table. Black coffee sat untouched in front of her, cooling fast.

She told herself it was strategic — arriving early, getting settled before the noise hit. But really, she just couldn’t sleep. And the silence of her hotel room felt louder than any dining room ever could.

Then Azzi walked in.

Hair still damp from her shower, hoodie sleeves shoved to her elbows, a slight limp betraying the toll of yesterday’s late-night grind. Paige felt it like a static charge — that unspoken pull.

She didn’t look. Not directly. But she felt her.

Azzi scanned the table, paused. The only open seat near Paige was one spot over — separated by a single empty chair.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She took it.

Not directly next to her. But close enough to make Paige’s pulse rise.

And then — the moment. Quiet. Blink-and-you’d-miss-it.

Azzi leaned forward to grab a napkin just as Paige reached for her coffee, their hands brushing for half a second.

Skin. Heat. Stillness.

They both froze.

Paige’s fingers grazed Azzi’s knuckles. Not intentional. Not technically inappropriate. But when Azzi looked up, Paige was already staring.

Their eyes locked. Just a beat too long.

It was Azzi who broke the silence — voice low, barely audible over the hum of the room.

“You okay?”

Paige blinked, caught off guard. She nodded once. “Yeah. You?”

Azzi gave a half-smile. “Didn’t sleep much.”

“Me neither,” Paige admitted before she could stop herself.

Azzi’s expression shifted — softer, more searching — like she wanted to say something else. Like she might.

But then KK’s voice cut in, smooth and sharp from across the table.

“You sleep okay, Coach?”

Paige stiffened. Looked over slowly. KK had her orange juice in one hand and that familiar I-know-something-I’m-not-supposed-too smirk on her face.

“Fine,” Paige said tightly.

KK tilted her head. “Mm. That so?”

Paige glanced at her. “You got something to say?”

KK leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice low. “Only that it’s funny how two people can sit a breath away from each other and still pretend they’re on opposite sides of the world.”

Azzi, now focused on peeling an orange, didn’t look up.

Paige’s jaw flexed. “Drop it.”

KK raised her brows in mock surrender. “Hey. Just admiring the tension. Impressive stuff.”

Paige stabbed at her eggs. “Admire quieter.”

Azzi finally let out the tiniest laugh — not at the food, not at Rickea’s joke. At them.

And Paige…

She didn’t smile.

But she didn’t look away this time, either.

Las Vegas Practice Facility – Late Morning

The bounce of basketballs echoed through the facility like a steady drumbeat. Sharp. Controlled. Comforting, almost — if it weren’t for the way Paige’s nerves felt like they were held together by fishing line.

The team was running shooting drills. Clean lines. Sharp cuts. Nothing fancy.

“Footwork!” Paige called out from the sideline, clipboard in hand. “You don’t get a second look in this league. Make it right the first time.”

She was trying to keep her voice even. Sharp, not harsh. Focused, not frazzled.

But every time Azzi touched the ball, Paige felt her grip tighten on the clipboard. Not because she was messing up — she wasn’t. She looked good. Efficient. Composed.

Too composed.

No teasing. No talking. No spark.

Like something inside her had folded in on itself overnight.

KK sidled up beside her near the half-court line, arms crossed, watching the same player Paige was pretending not to track with every blink.

“She’s locked in,” KK said under her breath. “Scary focused.”

“Good,” Paige said without flinching.

“Or,” KK added, “she’s burying something. Real deep.”

Paige didn’t respond.

“She’s not the only one,” KK muttered.

Paige snapped her eyes toward her, warning sharp. “What do you want me to say, KK?”

“Something honest might be nice.”

“I’m coaching,” Paige replied. “That’s what I’m here to do.”

KK leaned closer, voice low and clipped. “Yeah, well, maybe try doing it without looking like your chest’s about to cave in every time she breathes near you.”

Paige blinked once, hard.

“Keep your eyes on the court,” she said finally, and walked down the sideline before KK could say anything else.

She made herself stop near the rack of spare balls by the baseline. Scribbled something pointless on the clipboard just to feel in control again. But then she heard a ball clatter off the rim, bounce wide, roll out toward her.

Without thinking, she stepped forward to grab it at the same time Azzi did.

Their hands collided — again.

Not grazing. Not brief. Full contact. Palm to palm.

Azzi flinched first. Paige didn’t move.

For half a second, they both froze, fingertips still pressed into the seams of the same ball.

Azzi didn’t look up. “Sorry.”

Paige did look up. Watched her jaw tighten, watched the mask slip just slightly — enough to catch a flash of something raw in Azzi’s eyes before she yanked her hand back and walked away.

Azzi caught the next pass without missing a beat. Drained another three from the corner. No celebration. No glance toward the sideline.

Paige turned back toward the ball rack, heart thudding, clipboard limp in her grip.

She stared at the court like it might unwrite everything she felt.

It didn’t.

Locker Room – Post-Practice

Azzi’s POV

The locker room was quiet in that heavy, damp kind of way it always was after a hard practice — sweat clinging to the air, jerseys peeled halfway down, music faint and low from someone’s speaker in the corner.

Azzi sat on the bench in front of her locker, towel draped over her head, elbows on her knees, staring down at her laces like they held answers.

She had gone full autopilot today. Shot when she was supposed to. Passed clean. Hit her marks.

No mistakes.

No spark either.

And still, it was like her skin couldn’t forget Paige.

The shoulder brush during warmups. The brief hand graze during water break when Paige passed her a towel. The stupid, charged moment when they both reached for the same marker at the whiteboard and their fingers touched — just long enough to freeze her breath.

Every one of those moments, tiny as they were, still pulled her back into that hotel room.

Into the sound of Paige whispering her name in the dark.

Into the weight of her staying.

Azzi thought she’d feel better after their talk. And she did. In a way.

The silence was gone. The unknown wasn’t quite so sharp.

But the weight of it? The want of it? That hadn’t gone anywhere.

“You good?”

Azzi blinked. Rickea was sliding down the bench beside her, halfway through a protein bar, sweat still clinging to her curls.

“Yeah,” Azzi lied. “Just tired.”

Rickea gave her a long look. “You’ve been tired all week.”

Azzi shrugged, wiping her face with the towel again to stall. “Long camp. You know how it is.”

Rickea didn’t press. Just nodded slowly and stood to grab her slides. “If you say so. Just don’t forget how to breathe, Fudd. You’re allowed to.”

Azzi gave her a tired smile. “Thanks.”

When Rickea left, Azzi stayed seated a moment longer. The towel dropped to the floor. She leaned back, the cool of the locker pressing against her spine, and stared at the inside of the door like it might spell out what to do next.

Her phone sat facedown in her locker. She didn’t check it.

She didn’t have to.

No message.

Not even a bubble.

Just the echo of Paige’s hands on hers. And the silence that always came after.

Last night had meant something.

This morning had meant something.

But every accidental touch since then felt like a haunting — like her body was remembering all the things her mind wasn’t allowed to say out loud.

Media Room – Minutes Before the Presser

Private Hallway, Just Outside the Doors

The hallway was too quiet. A sterile stretch of beige carpet and echoing footsteps, with the low murmur of media setting up just beyond the doors.

Azzi stood by the water cooler, arms crossed, trying to steady her breath. Her heart thudded loud in her ears, and it had nothing to do with tipoff.

Then she heard it — the unmistakable rhythm of Paige’s steps.

She turned before Paige could pretend not to see her.

Paige stopped, tension bracing her shoulders, clipboard tucked tight to her chest.

“Hey,” Azzi said quietly.

Paige gave a small nod. “Hey.”

They stood there for a moment. Just like always — too close to ignore, too far to reach.

Azzi tilted her head, voice soft but edged. “Yesterday didn’t mean nothing… right?”

That landed like a direct hit.

Paige exhaled, slow, hands fidgeting with the corners of the clipboard. “No. It didn’t mean nothing.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet Azzi’s, clear and serious now. “I don’t regret it. Not any of it.”

Azzi swallowed hard. “Then what are we doing?”

Paige’s voice dipped low — barely above a whisper. “Trying not to ruin everything.”

A silence stretched between them, thick with everything they weren’t allowed to say.

Then Paige added, almost like a plea: “If we can just get through this first game… together… maybe things will start to make sense.”

Azzi held her gaze, searching for cracks — but there was only sincerity there. And fear.

She nodded once. “Okay.”

The media handler’s voice echoed from down the hall. “We’re ready for you.”

Azzi stepped toward the door. So did Paige.

They didn’t speak again.

Didn’t touch — not intentionally.

But for one second, their shoulders brushed.

And this time, neither of them pulled away.

Media Room – Pre-Game Presser

Paige’s POV

The lights were bright. Cameras flashing. Reporters half-listening, already typing.

Paige sat at the mic with the poise of someone who’d done this a thousand times — because she had. But today, her collar felt tighter than usual. Every breath felt choreographed.

Azzi slid into the seat next to her, setting her water bottle down with just enough force to earn a look from KK across the room.

They hadn’t been scheduled to speak together. But media assignments changed last minute. Of course they did.

The moderator adjusted their headset. “Coach Bueckers, Azzi — welcome. First question?”

A reporter in the second row leaned in. “Coach, how do you feel about opening the season in Vegas — the lights, the pressure, the history of the venue?”

Paige didn’t flinch. “We’re focused on the court, not the zip code.”

Next question.

“Azzi, this will be your first game back since the trade. How are you adjusting to the Sparks system?”

Azzi’s voice was steady, cool. “It’s been an intense camp. But I’m excited to compete. This team has a vision. We’re here to win.”

She didn’t look at Paige. Not directly. But her fingers tapped once against her knee — that subtle, nervous rhythm Paige recognized from nights where everything felt unspoken and still somehow safe.

Another question. Then another. Paige deflected them like usual — cool, clipped, practiced.

Then came the one they should’ve seen coming.

“Coach, what’s it been like coaching someone you once competed against — and now, you know, someone you clearly respect in Azzi?”

Paige’s gaze flicked to Azzi without meaning to. Just for a second.

Respect. Was that all it read as?

She cleared her throat. “Azzi’s one of the most disciplined players I’ve ever coached. High IQ. High intensity. She raises the bar for everyone.”

Azzi looked over, just slightly. And for a flash — the smallest shift in her expression. Gratitude. Pain. Something in between.

“And Azzi,” the reporter continued, “same question — what’s it like playing under someone who used to be on the other side of the ball?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “It’s… surreal. But earned. Paige has always been someone who is trusted on the court — that hasn’t changed.”

A longer pause than necessary.

“I listen when she talks.”

Something flickered in Paige’s chest. Something warm. Something sharp.

The moderator glanced at the time. “One final question.”

But Paige wasn’t listening anymore. Not really.

She was too busy trying not to read into the way Azzi’s leg had just barely brushed hers under the table.

Too busy trying to ignore how much that last line — I listen when she talks — sounded like something that meant more than it was allowed to.

And Azzi?

Azzi was still tapping her fingers against her knee. Like she didn’t know what else to do with her hands.

Like she was waiting for the game to start just to stop thinking.

Moments Before Tip — Tunnel Outside the Court

Azzi’s POV

The tunnel throbbed with anticipation — the muffled roar of the crowd beyond the curtain, the sharp scent of sweat and floor polish, the distant clang of warmup drills wrapping up on the court.

Azzi stood just inside the shadows, bouncing lightly on her toes, stretching out her shoulder with one hand, the other gripping the hem of her warmup jacket.

She should’ve been calm.

She’d done this a hundred times.

But her heartbeat wouldn’t settle. Not tonight. Not here.

Vegas always did too much.

She stared ahead at the edge of the light, where the tunnel opened to the court. It glowed like something holy. Or dangerous.

And then — she felt it before she heard it — the presence behind her.

She didn’t have to turn to know.

Paige.

Azzi held still, breath caught somewhere in the back of her throat.

Paige didn’t speak.

Instead, a steady hand settled on her shoulder — firm, grounding — and her thumb pressed in just slightly. Not rough. Not possessive. Just present. Like she was trying to say I’m here. Like she was still choosing her, even now.

To the world, it was nothing. Just a coach offering last-second reassurance to her star guard.

But Azzi’s knees almost buckled under it.

She glanced sideways, just enough to meet Paige’s eyes. They didn’t say much. But the weight of that look — the intensity of it — told her everything she needed to know.

No one else could hear it.

But Azzi did.

I see you. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere this time.

The announcer’s voice thundered through the tunnel:

“And starting at guard… number thirty-five… AZZI FUDD!”

Paige’s hand lifted — slow, careful — like she didn’t want to let go, but knew she had to.

Azzi swallowed hard, turned toward the light, and jogged out onto the court.

She didn’t smile.

She didn’t look back.

But her skin still burned from Paige’s touch.

And for the first time in days… her chest didn’t feel quite so heavy.

[redvexillum]

Hot damn, I can't believe it took me this long to finally get around to answering this ask. I would like to dedicate this story to @todash-darkness and Ms. 🍑. Thank you for being my friends and always cheering me on even when I get whiny and say "writing too hard!"

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, rough s♡x, possessive!alastor, alastor is bad at feelings, dual pov, reader is a sweetheart, established relationship, alastor is allergic to feelings, rough ♡ral s♡x, finger♡ng, miscommunication, one sided (alastor) denial of feelings

In the vast, unfathomable uncertainties of Hell, Alastor’s mind was a sanctum guarded by his own design, his kingdom of carefully orchestrated chaos. He adored unpredictability, yes – but only when it danced to his tune, his rhythm, his control. Anything else, anything beyond his boundaries, was sacrilege.  

There was no greater agony, no venom deeper, than the sensation of his world teetering beyond his grasp. His order, his routine ...demolishing right before his eyes.  

One such certainty he held with unwavering conviction was this: your soul belonged to him, irrevocably. He had claimed you in ways that transcended mere words. Every part of you – your thoughts, your desires, your body, and even the delicate cadence of your laugh – was woven into his web, bound and stitched to his very being.  

So why, then, were you here, laughing with that cur, the very embodiment of mediocrity beside you? Why did the melodic lilt of your voice drift toward that miserable fool’s ears instead of his? The sight of you smiling at such filth was an affront to everything he held sacred, and yet you persisted. You continued to share laughter with that loser, indulging his vapid words, his feeble presence.  

From his seat on the single couch, Alastor’s grin cleaved his face, a mask of delight that undercut the roiling fury within. Around him, other souls babbled, meaningless, and insipid, but he paid them no heed. His gaze was fixed solely on you – typically nestled by his side, hanging on his every word as if he held the keys to your reality.  

You, who would meet his stories with wide-eyed fascination, as if his very words spun magic into existence. You, who would follow him, entranced, into his realm.  

But now, now...his hand dug into the flesh of the couch, claws piercing through its plush surface as he fought to restrain himself, to keep from dragging you to his side where you belonged. In his mind, he could feel the invisible chains around your neck, the ones you had so naively accepted, binding you to him to the moment you surrendered your soul – for a little of wretched Hellmutts, no less.  

You were naive. Weak. Ridiculously innocent.  

But you were his.  

His eyes tracked every move you made, his gaze darkening with each soft smile that graced your lips for someone else, each glimmer in your eye cast in that foul creature’s direction. And then – then that trash, that waste of a soul, had the audacity to touch your shoulder.  

Alastor’s heart stilled, a visceral freeze rippling through him as he watched your fingers lift, as if in slow motion, to meet that filthy hand.  

And within him, something snapped. 

An uncontrollable twitch seized his left eye, a slight tremor echoed in the clench of his jaw. Rage coursed through him, an intense, molten fury tightening every muscle until he vibrated with it. A violent energy was held back only by a grin that split his face, frozen, even as his eyes bore into you, unblinking.  

Come to me, he thought, his voice a dark whisper in his mind, willing you to hear, to obey, Come here, darling. Come... 

Yet, you didn’t hear him. Not a single glance in his direction, as if the tether binding you to him had snapped. You, with those disgustingly bright eyes, filled to the brim with such boundless, grating cheer – those eyes that never strayed from his, were now fixed on someone else. They were facing the wrong way.  

The ownership he held over you was absolute, and he was certain there was nothing of value in this world next to your name – nothing but your soul. And that? Well, that belonged to him. You were his in every sense, a fact as unshakeable as death itself.  

The thought simmered, rolling over in his mind like a storm. He’d planned to speak with you tonight, to remind you of the boundaries that came with selling your soul to him. A gentle “discussion” about your arrangement, perhaps a reminder of the dangers of your reckless naivety, especially around others’ wandering intentions. After all, what did you understand of the hunger that prowled in the depths of Hell? 

But then you laughed. That joyous sound, brimming with warmth and energy – the very light he’d basked in so possessively – spilled from you for someone else. In that instant, something dark clawed up from within him, overriding every fragment of patience he thought he’d possessed.  

The lights flickered; sinners looked up and whispered, confused, looking up as the room dipped into pitch-black darkness. And in that instant, Alastor’s hand seized you, pulling you into the shadows before anyone would notice.  

The darkness folded around him, dragging you both from their prying eyes, and when he materialized in his room, any pretense of control shattered entirely.  

You’d been talking to a gentleman about butcher shops in Cannibal Town, a respectable topic considering he was a proud consumer of sinner flesh. Though you yourself didn’t indulge, you knew Alastor had a certain...fondness for the taste. This stranger, to his credit, offered genuine recommendations – shops known for prime, fresh meat. You listened attentively, committing every word to memory, already imagining the gleam in Alastor’s eyes when you surprised him with a choice cut of fresh deer sinner’s flesh.  

The best part? Each piece came with the sinner’s full consent. Nothing could be more natural, organic, and you supposed, humane in a macabre way, than that.  

Your smile grew brighter as you pictured his reaction, and out of courtesy, you kept the conversation flowing. After all, Alastor had always instilled in you the importance of politeness, of maintaining grace, especially in the realms of Hell. When the man touched your shoulder and praised your kindness, you felt a warmth spread through you. Kindness was a rarity down here, and it was refreshing to be in the company of someone who appreciated it without ulterior motives.  

But then the lights flickered, and instantly, the room plunged into darkness. Panic flared, voices rising in confusion, and before you could fully process what was happening, a cold hand clamped around your wrist. A sensation, chilling and immediate, enveloped you, and the world melted away.  

When you blinked, you were in Alastor’s room.  

The sudden brightness left you blinking against the light, your vision adjusting. But when you finally looked up, you were met with a sight that sent a shiver down your spine.  

Alastor stood there; his eyes ablaze with a crimson fury that bordered on madness. His grin stretched wider than you’d ever seen, jagged and vicious, as if it had been carved from his very rage. His gaze cut through you like a knife, every muscle in his frame taut with anger. Twin streams of red trickled from the corners of his mouth, and in that silence, you could swear you heard the crackling of something deep within him breaking.  

Before you could even form the words to ask why he seemed so upset, Alastor summoned the soul chain. A sickly green chain flickered into existence, snaking around his wrist, and in the next, you felt a sudden, brutal tug around your neck. Your teeth gritted at the sharp pull, and he yanked you forward until you were barely an inch away from him, his nose almost brushing yours as he bent down to meet your gaze.  

The dial in his chest swung wildly, ticking back and forth like a metronome set to a frenzied beat.  

“Uhm, Alast-” you started, confusion clouding your mind. You knew he was eccentric, yes, prone to outbursts and fits of emotion, but they always carried some purpose, a hidden logic that only he could fully understand.  

“Who do you belong to?” he demanded, his voice frigid and sharp. The chain clinked as he pulled you even closer, the heat of his body blazing through the air between you.  

“Y-you,” you stammered, searching his eyes, your hand trembling as you gently touched his sleeve. “It’s you.” 

For a fleeting second, your answer seemed to calm the storm raging in his gaze, his crimson eyes softening back to their usual dark slits. “That’s right,” he whispered, his voice low and deceptively soft. “You belong to me.” His hand slid to your waist, his fingers digging in possessively. “And yet,” his voice dropped to a hiss, “you had the gall to let another sinner touch you.” 

A wave of bewilderment washed over you, leaving you scrambling to make sense of his anger. Physical contact was far from uncommon in the hotel – just yesterday, Angel Dust had clapped you on the back after you told him a joke. Surely, Alastor wouldn’t be so enraged over something so trivial? 

But Alastor pressed himself against you, his body taut and seething with an intensity that left you breathless. “My, my,” he murmured, voice pitched with a mocking chill, “thinking about that wretched sinner already? Right here, in my presence?” 

“That’s not-” you started to protest, realizing with a sinking dread that you’d indeed just thought of Angel Dust. But surely, that alone wouldn’t justify this terrifying fury, this raw possessiveness radiating from Alastor? 

He let out a bark of laughter, sharp and scathing, before pressing his forehead to yours, his lips grazing dangerously close to your own. “I own your soul, darling,” he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous, velvety edge. You felt his claws inching up your skirt, his fingers scraping against your bare thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “I don’t share what is rightfully mine.” 

Unexpectedly, his mouth crashed onto yours, urgent and bruising, teeth grazing with a hunger so fierce it stole the breath from your lungs. You whimpered against him as his sharp tooth nicked your lower lip, the sting mingling with the taste of blood as his hot tongue lapped over the wound, a low groan reverberating from his chest.  

When he finally pulled back, his lips stained crimson with your blood, he gripped the front of your dress, his eyes blazing. “Who do you belong to?” he demanded again, his tone laced with desperation, as if even your words might not be enough to satisfy him.  

“You. It’s always you, Alastor,” you whispered, your hands gently cupping his face, placing a soft, tender kiss on his lips – a striking contrast to the bruising passion he’d unleashed moments before. “The contract says forever, remember?” You tried a slight, playful grin, but his gaze held none of his usual amusement, his eyes fixated on yours with an almost haunted intensity.  

“The contract,” he repeated slowly, his fingers loosening their grip on your dress. “Yes...that’s right.” His hands trembled for a fleeting moment before he forced them behind his back, his posture rigid. “I own your soul,” he said, voice hollow, “your servitude, I suppose.” 

It was as if he were no longer fully present with you, his gaze dark and distant, a hint of revelation in his eyes that seemed to tear him apart even as he chased it. You could see it, how this realization – this twisted revelation – pained him, even though he seemed oblivious to its source.  

You’d been here before, watched him spiral from bursts of passion to bitterness and then back to his lonely solitude. So, as always, you took that first step forward, drawing closer until your arms circled his waist. You smiled up at him, that bright, open smile he so often brushed off with sharp words, though you knew it softened him beneath the mask.  

He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, a breath escaping as he murmured, “My, you're suddenly so clingy.” But you caught the waver in his voice, hiding behind his usual teasing edge.  

“Because it’s you,” you replied simply, hands trailing up his back until they slid into his hair, guiding him down to meet you. “Besides, you haven’t kicked me to the curb yet, Alastor.” You giggled, only for the sound to be cut off as his lips claimed yours.  

His movement slowed, each kiss lingering, his fingers finding the front of your shirt, hesitating there. “I don’t share,” he murmured against your mouth, his claws grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “This chain,” he whispered, tracing it with reverence, “it binds you to me. I own you.” With each word, he deftly unbuttoned your dress, his gaze smouldering as the fabric fell open.  

“I know,” you answered softly, sinking beneath him as he lowered you to the hard floor, his arms and legs caging you in. “I haven’t forgotten,” you murmured, your fingers trailing down the front of his red-pinstriped suit, savouring the rough texture beneath your touch.  

He stiffened, a flash of raw anger crossing his features. “Then why,” he snarled, his voice dripping with possessiveness, “why let that waste of breath near you? Why laugh, why smile, why seek his company when I was right there?” His words tumbled out, unbidden, raw and unrestrained.  

At that moment, as his heated words filled the space between you, you caught a flicker of shame and horror in his eyes, as if he hadn’t meant to reveal this part of himself. But before he could pull away, you wrapped your arms around his neck, anchoring him to you.  

“No one touches me like you do,” you whispered, pressing soft kisses along his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, until you kissed him fully. And I don’t think anyone else can make me smile until my cheeks hurt.” You laughed softly, fingers combing through his hair, each touch soft and grounding.  

His response was immediate, his lips pressed against yours, his hips grinding against you with desperate fervour. His soft groans mixed with your sighs, and he gently took your wrists, guiding your hands back to the front of his pants. His lips never left yours, his hands tracing a slow, searing path as you undid his pants, feeling the heated weight of him pressing against your stomach as you freed him.  

“Darling,” he hissed as our fingers wrapped around him, stroking from his tip down the length of his hardened cock, slow and tantalizing. The fire in his eyes darkened, his pupils widening to pools of obsidian as he shuddered beneath your touch. “How should I make you remember,” he murmured, voice a low growl, “that you belong to me always?” 

His lips traced down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt to your waist with a deliberate slowness that made you ache. “Perhaps,” he breathed, his fingers pressing against the damp cloth covering you, feeling your desire seeping through, “I’ll make your body remember.”  

Without hesitation, he tore your underwear away, his fingers grazing the slick curve of your inner thighs, drawing a gasp from you as his touch lingered there. “Enough times,” he muttered, his voice thick with want, “That you never forget who I am to you.” 

Two fingers slipped inside, filling you in one firm stroke. The sensation sent a sharp tremor through you, and your breath hitched as your walls clenched around him. “Alastor...” His name fell from your lips in a shiver, and his eyes darkened at the sound, a wicked grin spreading across his face.  

“Shh, darling,” he cooed, his voice a velvet command. His fingers moved slowly, plunging into you with an unhurried intensity, dragging your slice over every sensitive spot before plunging them back in. His head dropped to your shoulder, lips brushing over your skin as he pumped his fingers, his own arousal pressing hot and hard against your thigh. “Tonight, I’ll make certain you’ll never consider anyone else.” 

Pleasure flooded through you, erasing everything except the feel of him, each pump of his fingers building heat within you. You wanted to tell him he was always in your mind, to confess that you’d never once thought of leaving his side. But words tangled and dissolved into moans, as if even trying to say them would break the spell.  

Things like, I like you.

Things like, I cherish you. 

Things like... 

A gasp tore from you as his mouth latched onto your breast, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak as he hummed in satisfaction, the wet sound of his fingers moving within you intensifying with each movement. You arched against him, hips moving of their own accord, desperate for more, clinging to every sensation.  

And just as you teetered on the edge, his fingers slipped free, leaving you throbbing, gasping from the loss of him. He rose above you, his cock fully erect, tip glistening. He lifted his fingers, coated in your desire, to his face, watching with fascination as he pressed them together. A glistening thread stretching between them before he spread too far apart, breaking it with a hungry grin.  

Then, without looking away, he brought them to his lips, sucking each finger clean with slow, deliberate motions, a satisfied groan slipping from his throat as he tasted you.  

“Who do you belong to, darling?” he murmured, eyes heavy-lidded as he gazed down at you. His hands moved to pin your wrists above your head, pressing his hips forward, his cock nudging against your slick entrance, sending a shiver of pure heat coursing through you.  

Your breath caught as he began to push in, the head of him stretching you with a slow, delicious pressure. Instinctively, you tried to shift your hips, to take him deeper, but his grip tightened, keeping you firmly in place. “Say it,” he whispered, his voice edged with a fierce tenderness, his eyes locked onto yours, demanding.  

“You,” you whimpered, voice trembling, and Alastor rewarded you by sliding himself just a bit deeper, the stretch trying to accommodate him making you gasp.  

“That’s right,” he crooned, his grin sharp, eyes narrowed to slivers of wicked delight. “Tell me,” he murmured, his lips brushing hot against your ear, the words like fire igniting every nerve, “tell me how much you want me. Go on.” 

When you hesitated, struggling for breath, he drew his hips back, leaving you painfully empty. Every nerve in your body was alight, humming, craving more. Embarrassment coloured your cheeks, but the heat, the need, drove the words from you. “Please,” you whispered, voice soft and fragile, “please Alastor, I-I want you.” Your eyes closed, the vulnerability tightening in your chest, sending waves of desire flooding your veins.  

The moment the words escaped your lips, Alastor surged forward, filling you to the hilt, his hips flush against yours, a shuddering groan escaping him. His length throbbed inside, stretching and filling you perfectly, leaving you breathless as he began a steady rhythm, each thrust pulling a whimper from your lips.  

“That’s right,” he rasped, finally finding his pace as he withdrew and slammed back into you, your breasts bouncing with every relentless stroke. “Say you want me,” he breathed, his voice rough, almost breaking, with the intensity of his need.  

One hand pinned your wrists above your head, firm and unyielding, while the other squeezed your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending electric shocks of pleasure through you. His hips moved in a hypnotic rhythm, the wet, smacking sound of skin on skin mingling with the sharp cries and moans filling the air. Each one tore through you as you clung to him, helpless against the power of his thrusts.  

“I want you,” you cried, voice trembling, head tilted back, your body limp and yielding beneath his strength. Every nerve was alive with a searing stretch, his cock grinding into your most sensitive spot as he drove deeper, forcing pleasure to crest higher and higher. His name fell from your lips in broken cries, each syllable dripping with the intensity of your desire.  

With a raw groan, Alastor shifted, grasping your hips firmly as he rose onto his knees, lifting you with him. Your body arched upward, shoulders and head the only parts still anchored to the floor as he drove into you harder, faster, every thrust meeting no resistance. He slammed his hips against yours, the force of it stealing your breath, pushing you to the brink, an overwhelming spike of pleasure building with every powerful relentless motion.  

Your lips parted, gasping, as his grunts filled your ears, his low, primal sounds mixing with the wet, sinful noises of your bodies colliding. The world around you faded to nothing but the feeling of him, the ecstasy of his touch, and the unstoppable climb toward a blinding, shattering release.  

His eyes locked on the place where your bodies joined, a hunger darkening his gaze as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot, dragging every pulse of pleasure from deep within you. Your stomach tightened, thighs shaking, and as he drove in again, the pressure burst.  

You came with a shattering cry, your fingers scraping at the wooden floor, desperate for anything to hold as your walls clenched around him, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing through you.  

He pulled out suddenly, letting your body drop as he rose to his knees, his cock slick and throbbing against your parted lips. His hand wrapped around his length, pumping himself with frenzied strokes as he looked down, his gaze fierce and covetous.  

“I should mark you,” he rasped, his voice thick with need, his cock grazing your lips as he leaned forward. “Make sure my colour stains that smile.” His grin was wild as his hand moved faster, his muscles tense, his breaths shallow and ragged.  

You lifted your head, mouth open to take him in, your lips wrapping around the tip as your tongue swirled, savouring the mingling taste of him and your own desire. A moan tore from him, and he let his head drop back, his hands cradling the sides of your head, guiding himself deeper as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts. His length stretched your lips as he pressed to the back of your throat, the guttural sound of his groans and the slick noises filling the air.  

Your own moans vibrated around him, spurring him on. His hips moved faster, his hands clinging tighter as his moans grew sharper, each thrust sending him closer. With one last hard thrust, he shuddered, and the first hot pulse of his release spilled down your throat. He withdrew, letting the rest spill over your lips, dripping down your chin in thick streams as he marked you. His eyes locked on your face, a wild satisfaction softening his gaze as he watched.  

The warmth of his release lingered on your skin, drying as your breaths filled the space between you. Your tongue darted out, tasting the lingering saltiness on your lips, and he groaned, his cock twitching in his hand as he watched, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.  

As if coming back to himself, he gently cupped your face, wiping his release from your skin with his sleeve, his expression caught between wonder and something deeper. His touch was unexpectedly soft, eyes holding a vulnerability he rarely let surface, the unspoken question hanging between you as his gaze searched yours.  

“We could be more,” you whispered, heart pounding as his fingers tilled on your skin, “if you want, Alastor.” 

His movements halted, his gaze slowly focusing on yours, a flicker of confusion slipping beneath his usual veneer of confidence. “I already own your soul,” he murmured, his voice edged with something darker, guarded. “There is nothing more you could give me.” His words were resolute, as if trying to cling onto their simplicity, yet the way his brows furrowed, and his head tilted betrayed a hesitation – a lack of understanding for the weight of what you meant.  

For all his power, Alastor had taken your heart without ever offering his own in return. The notion of “more” was something he danced around, something he coveted without daring to hold. He wanted you fiercely, hungrily even, but in ways he could still control – never in ways that would strip him bare and vulnerable.  

You placed a gentle hand on his thigh, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. With a soft sigh, you felt the truth of it settle heavy between you; until he could meet you on level ground, until he was ready to open himself as wholly as he demanded of you, this fragile back-and-forth was all you’d have. This quiet ache, this unspoken ache, would remain hidden, cloaked in omissions and denials.  

It wasn’t entirely his fault, either, this painful standoff. After all, there were things you held back too – things that lingered on the edge of every kiss, every touch, words that clung desperately to the walls of your heart, refusing to release themselves. The word that waited to change everything.  

Things like, I like you. 

Things like, I cherish you. 

Things like... 

I love you.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[kashedelic]

FORGOTTEN - sylus x reader

SUMMARY: Don't expect a lot from someone who hasn't explained a lot about how they don't want a lot from you.

NOTES: sylus x reader, first person pov, question marks for the relationship, angst, girl u got side-chicked, reader is NOT mc, not as angsty as I could make it icl.

wc: 2497

a/n: i got a boat load of things to be doing, but sometimes sylus needs to come first. someone please tag me in a good Sylus fic that'll heal btw, even if this wasn't angsty as I could have made it I still need to be giggling over something

Be sure to like, reblog, or even follow! Your support means everything to me and helps more people to find this story! Thank you for reading!

Love is a simple yet complex thing. It makes days feel like waltzes, despite the darkness itching at the seams and cracks of the world. It tells a tale of mellow, warm days, where the sun doesn’t burn but heals. That’s how it felt to be in love

That’s why, when I awoke each morning with darkness still pooling in my apartment - the billowy shadows, albeit smaller now with the faint morning light of the N109 Zone, dancing against the walls - and the sound of a crow at my window, I was okay. The ebony feathers and gleaming ruby eyes visible through the glass were my proof. I was not forgotten.

Opening the window, the crow cocked its head inquisitively, as though asking, Let me in, please!

“Come in,” I said, sliding the window open. The crow swooped in and perched on my bed frame.

“Running errands already, huh, Mephisto?” I chuckled dryly, rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes. I gently scratched beneath its beak, earning a positive response from the bird.

With a sigh, I gathered my strength and moved to my closet, pulling out low-waisted baggy cargos and a fitted ribbed top. Glancing over my shoulder, I added, “Tell Sylus he better be working when I get there - not passed out at his desk again.”

The image of Sylus asleep, cheek pressed against his knuckles, with soft snores escaping his lips, tugged my mouth into a smile. He could try to be inconspicuous, but on mornings when work demanded an early rise, his stoic demeanor softened into vulnerability. To others, it might not have seemed like much, but to me, it was enough to get moving.

When I reached the estate, Luke and Kieran waved me in, clearly still settling into the morning. Kieran was slumped on a couch while Luke mumbled something about not getting enough sleep and missing cereal. Familiar with their antics, I proceeded, leaving them to their misery.

“Sylus,” I called, a smile spreading across my face as I found him awake and working. “G’morning, boss.” The title slipped off my tongue easily - a term that had lost its seriousness, now laced with humor between us. Though our interactions were often work-related, there was a growing sense of familiarity. Shared jokes and casual banter hinted at something deeper.

He glanced up, a corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Good morning to you, too. Has the allure of work coffee dragged you in early?” His voice carried that low timbre that always caught me off guard.

I dropped into a leather armchair, resting my head in my hand. “Tempting, but no. I had a visitor this morning - a certain crow who seems to think I’m slacking.”

His smirk grew more pronounced. “Oh, is that so?”

“Don’t act coy,” I huffed.

“Caught red-handed,” he admitted with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Waking up early is one thing, but I should have a reason to wake up too, don’t you think?”

“Sylus, you’ve got a mountain of work to do,” I said, flustered, waving off his teasing.

“Work always waits for the boss, doesn’t it?” he quipped back.

After a bit more banter, I decided coffee was in order. Rising from the armchair, I motioned toward the door. “I’m craving that cafe in Linkon. Knowing you, you probably want something. So, are you coming with me, or should I grab something for the both of us?”

“Don’t leave without me,” Sylus replied quickly. “I could use a side adventure with you.”

Rolling my eyes to mask my nerves, I snorted. “Then hurry up. And by the way, the twins are out of commission, so we’ll probably have to take the car ourselves.”

As we drove toward Linkon, the air felt lighter, the stark contrast between N109’s industrial shadows and the bustling streets beyond. Yet Sylus’s words lingered in my mind, as his often did, planting seeds of thought that stayed with me, unshaken.

When we entered the coffee shop, I noticed his gaze linger. His face fell, not in fear, but in shock.

“Sylus, did you see something?” I asked, my voice soft, laced with earnest concern.

He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed before he blinked and turned to me. “I… No, it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?” I pressed gently.

He nodded, but the weight in his tone betrayed him. Something was wrong.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? As your… assistant, you know at the very least?” The word was humbling on my tongue. Would saying "friend" be more appropriate? It would definitely be plausible, but friends don't necessarily pick and prod the way we have. To say "friends" undermines everything else that was bubbling, and I don’t want that.

Sighing at his hum, I let our outing continue. There was less banter, but it was a manageable experience.

The next morning, something felt off. Sylus’s usual sharp wit was dulled, his attention drifting elsewhere. Even the crow, who had become my constant visitor in the mornings, was absent. Days passed, and our exchanges grew quieter, the once effortless banter replaced by an unspoken tension.

It was clear as day: Sylus was scheming and plotting on his own, or at the very least, I wasn’t looped in. Kieran and Luke had no issue with Sylus's behavior, but there was something amiss. It seemed as though his attention had been pulled from me to focus on whatever was troubling him. Sure, I had no issue allowing for space - I mean, it wasn’t like we were together - but I was worried. There wasn’t any animosity between us, yet the trifling silence between us seemed to be a little more than that.

Days passed on and on, and it seemed that his stressed attitudes were lifting for more elated moods. It seemed as though a recovery was bound, but perhaps not for me. It seemed as though his ride was coming to an end, and mine? It was only beginning.

The burst of a gunshot, followed by its sharp echo, jolted me upright from my chair. My pulse quickened as I glanced toward the source of the sound, the commotion carrying through the otherwise quiet estate. I was used to the sound of bullets firing, close-range or far-range, but to hear it inside the estate, let alone where Sylus was? What for?

“Luke, Kieran? The hell was that?” I shouted from where I stood, concern pinching my eyebrows together. Luke and Kieran immediately appeared in the doorway, both uncharacteristically composed but clearly aware of my concern.

"Relax," Luke said, hands raised in an almost placating gesture. "It was nothing - you know boss, if he was shooting himself, he’d be able to heal himself back up. Lickity split."

"Nothing to worry about," Kieran chimed in, his tone steady, though the glance he exchanged with his brother was enough to prick at my nerves. Dolts.

“Yeah, but neither of you are answering my question. Who’s shooting right now?” Sylus was way capable of managing himself; heck, to say he couldn't would be lying straight through my teeth. He was the esteemed leader of Onychinus, who could miraculously (and freakishly, of course) mend himself back together. He feared nothing. He feared no one. He was the one feared.

Finally putting a brain cell to use, Luke placed a hand on his hip while another scratched his chin. “Not sure, but… could be something with that Hunter Association girl.”

My face morphed from concern and annoyance to confusion. Hunter Association girl? I couldn’t help but wonder, “Who?”

“You don’t know? Boss found the Hunter Association girl he was looking for?” Luke scratched his hood, creating a party of confusion between him and me. Kieran was also slowly joining the group as the conversation ensued. No, I wasn’t heartbroken right away. No, I wasn’t jealous. Yes, I was perplexed.

He was looking for someone, and he didn’t tell me?

Surely, he had a reason for doing so, but I could only pray that maybe, as an assistant, I would be informed of operations Onychinus was leading. Unless, of course, they were personal feats. Then, there would be a clear boundary that would make it evident I didn’t need to meddle in whatever Sylus was orchestrating.

Friend, but wasn’t I at least a friend? Could he not confide in me there? I mean, there was a part of him that I had unlocked over the previous years. Surely those bits and pieces of Sylus I got to learn through my own very eyes would at least trust me enough to tell me what the hell he was doing? Right?

Be levelled.

There is always more than what meets the eye.

Be levelled.

I slowly nodded, but the tension in my chest didn’t dissipate. “I did not know of her, but if you say it’s alright, I’ll take your word. You two better pray that I won’t be having to clean blood later, otherwise, you two…” I trailed a clenched fist with a thumb out at my neck with a menacing hiss imitating a knife at a throat. I knew better than to be vulnerable, let alone in front of the twins, and the best way to handle hurt in this moment was to pretend it didn’t exist with humor. The twins frantically saluted with an incoherent plea for their lives before dashing out. I returned to my work, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

I had to clean up, and it was worse than I thought.

Despite my weak attempts at swallowing the questions gnawing at my chest, every passing second listed another question to my list. I was a student of heartache and worry, and my summative was to understand where I would lay with Sylus in the coming days.

After I had finished my reading, the silence was deafening, and I could hear it alluring me to see what had developed since the shot. It had been hours since the initial bullet, and the assistant part (definitely not the confused, aching part) of me wanted to know if there was anything for me to take care of or, you know, any answers for those questions.

I noted that both the mystery girl and Sylus weren’t in the estate anymore, but I saw the blood. This line of work built up a tolerance for gore and grim, but it still wasn’t pleasant. It seemed as if someone had haphazardly tried to clean it up, but I wished I had never overheard the conversations between them as they returned.

As the days pursued, I noticed a shift in Sylus’s routine. A woman I hadn’t seen before appeared in the halls, a faint shadow following Sylus’s movements. Truly, it would have been easier if she wasn’t prancing around the estate, because then I wouldn’t have to be a first-hand witness to seeing how he looked at her. It takes no fool to see that he looked at her with a warm gleam in his eye. A gleam that wasn’t his evol, but a look that drank her whole, his eyebrows raised and only furrowing at her witty remarks. I never meant to notice, but it seemed like he was breathing easier, yet his muscles were itching to grab her.

To crave someone.

My heart was slowly revolting in my chest, plotting an anarchy against my mind. A loud demand that I seek closure. My story was over, but I begged, “Let me be broken,” my pitiful mind whispering in surrender.

Sylus, who usually moved like a lone wolf through the estate, now seemed tethered to her. She occupied the guest room, accompanied him on errands, and their dynamic seemed effortless - something I would never relate to. Under the assumption that all that is sweet takes time, I patiently waited for him; supported him; cared for him. The banter I had once shared with him now played out between them, and my tongue was left scratchy from the lack of words falling off it.

It wasn’t jealousy I felt, not exactly. It was the quiet unease of witnessing something intimate from the outside, knowing I was no longer the one who fit into the empty spaces. I was a puzzle piece to replace; a hastily drawn picture on a piece of paper, cut out to only fill in for the missing piece.

Still, I couldn’t deny how easily they seemed to get along. She wasn’t intrusive or overbearing; she blended into the environment, a piece that completed the puzzle of Sylus’s world. Watching her settle into the rhythm of things only served to emphasize my growing sense of distance, and it was vividly clear to me that she was the puzzle piece he was hunting for.

When the announcement came that Sylus and Ms. Hunter - as he would call her - would be attending an auction together, an event critical to our operations, it wasn’t a surprise. But Lord, did it sting. I had been by his side countless times for situations like this, yet now I was relegated to the periphery.

The day of the auction was oddly quiet. He was enamored by her. She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. The dress he had tailored for her, the jewels that hung on her skin - they made her look stunning. If the case was different, I would have complimented her myself, but the depth of pain hurting within me begged me to stay back. As they left together, I busied myself with the tasks left behind, avoiding the gnawing thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me. The image of them - so perfect for one another - haunted my mind. Hours stretched on, and by the time they returned, their closeness was undeniable.

It hurt.

I promised myself to be level-headed, but all that had occurred was the feelings I had so helplessly grasped onto being sent to the gullies. I could neither leave nor stay. A sickening game where I would run in circles by myself. Since when did I become so dependent on him? I thought my individuality was what brought me here.

There’s a single pitch that no soul dares to experience. A sound so sharp it rips your heart out - not to serve it on a silver platter, but to hurl it onto a pile of others, drowning in the same feeling: sorrow. It’s the cacophony of thoughts rattling your chest, keeping it pumping with blood, yet leaving it aching. Sorrow doesn’t only break; it strengthens, but it’s through love that one nurtures.

Love is a simple yet complex thing. It makes days feel like waltzes, despite the darkness itching at the seams and cracks of the world. It tells a tale of mellow, warm days, where the sun doesn’t burn but heals. That’s how it felt to be in love.

That’s why, when I awoke each morning with darkness still pooling in my apartment - the billowy shadows, albeit smaller now with the faint morning light of the N109 Zone, dancing against the walls - and the sound of a crow at my window, I was okay. The ebony feathers and gleaming ruby eyes visible through the glass were my proof. I was not forgotten.

Opening the window, the crow cocked its head inquisitively, as though asking, Let me in, please!

“Come in,” I said, sliding the window open. The crow swooped in and perched on my bed frame.

“Running errands already, huh, Mephisto?” I chuckled dryly, rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes. I gently scratched beneath its beak, earning a positive response from the bird.

With a sigh, I gathered my strength and moved to my closet, pulling out low-waisted baggy cargos and a fitted ribbed top. Glancing over my shoulder, I added, “Tell Sylus he better be working when I get there - not passed out at his desk again.”

The image of Sylus asleep, cheek pressed against his knuckles, with soft snores escaping his lips, tugged my mouth into a smile. He could try to be inconspicuous, but on mornings when work demanded an early rise, his stoic demeanor softened into vulnerability. To others, it might not have seemed like much, but to me, it was enough to get moving.

When I reached the estate, Luke and Kieran waved me in, clearly still settling into the morning. Kieran was slumped on a couch while Luke mumbled something about not getting enough sleep and missing cereal. Familiar with their antics, I proceeded, leaving them to their misery.

“Sylus,” I called, a smile spreading across my face as I found him awake and working. “G’morning, boss.” The title slipped off my tongue easily - a term that had lost its seriousness, now laced with humor between us. Though our interactions were often work-related, there was a growing sense of familiarity. Shared jokes and casual banter hinted at something deeper.

He glanced up, a corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Good morning to you, too. Has the allure of work coffee dragged you in early?” His voice carried that low timbre that always caught me off guard.

I dropped into a leather armchair, resting my head in my hand. “Tempting, but no. I had a visitor this morning - a certain crow who seems to think I’m slacking.”

His smirk grew more pronounced. “Oh, is that so?”

“Don’t act coy,” I huffed.

“Caught red-handed,” he admitted with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Waking up early is one thing, but I should have a reason to wake up too, don’t you think?”

“Sylus, you’ve got a mountain of work to do,” I said, flustered, waving off his teasing.

“Work always waits for the boss, doesn’t it?” he quipped back.

After a bit more banter, I decided coffee was in order. Rising from the armchair, I motioned toward the door. “I’m craving that cafe in Linkon. Knowing you, you probably want something. So, are you coming with me, or should I grab something for the both of us?”

“Don’t leave without me,” Sylus replied quickly. “I could use a side adventure with you.”

Rolling my eyes to mask my nerves, I snorted. “Then hurry up. And by the way, the twins are out of commission, so we’ll probably have to take the car ourselves.”

As we drove toward Linkon, the air felt lighter, the stark contrast between N109’s industrial shadows and the bustling streets beyond. Yet Sylus’s words lingered in my mind, as his often did, planting seeds of thought that stayed with me, unshaken.

When we entered the coffee shop, I noticed his gaze linger. His face fell, not in fear, but in shock.

��Sylus, did you see something?” I asked, my voice soft, laced with earnest concern.

He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed before he blinked and turned to me. “I… No, it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?” I pressed gently.

He nodded, but the weight in his tone betrayed him. Something was wrong.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? As your… assistant, you know at the very least?” The word was humbling on my tongue. Would saying "friend" be more appropriate? It would definitely be plausible, but friends don't necessarily pick and prod the way we have. To say "friends" undermines everything else that was bubbling, and I don’t want that.

Sighing at his hum, I let our outing continue. There was less banter, but it was a manageable experience.

The next morning, something felt off. Sylus’s usual sharp wit was dulled, his attention drifting elsewhere. Even the crow, who had become my constant visitor in the mornings, was absent. Days passed, and our exchanges grew quieter, the once effortless banter replaced by an unspoken tension.

It was clear as day: Sylus was scheming and plotting on his own, or at the very least, I wasn’t looped in. Kieran and Luke had no issue with Sylus's behavior, but there was something amiss. It seemed as though his attention had been pulled from me to focus on whatever was troubling him. Sure, I had no issue allowing for space - I mean, it wasn’t like we were together - but I was worried. There wasn’t any animosity between us, yet the trifling silence between us seemed to be a little more than that.

Days passed on and on, and it seemed that his stressed attitudes were lifting for more elated moods. It seemed as though a recovery was bound, but perhaps not for me. It seemed as though his ride was coming to an end, and mine? It was only beginning.

The burst of a gunshot, followed by its sharp echo, jolted me upright from my chair. My pulse quickened as I glanced toward the source of the sound, the commotion carrying through the otherwise quiet estate. I was used to the sound of bullets firing, close-range or far-range, but to hear it inside the estate, let alone where Sylus was? What for?

“Luke, Kieran? The hell was that?” I shouted from where I stood, concern pinching my eyebrows together. Luke and Kieran immediately appeared in the doorway, both uncharacteristically composed but clearly aware of my concern.

"Relax," Luke said, hands raised in an almost placating gesture. "It was nothing - you know boss, if he was shooting himself, he’d be able to heal himself back up. Lickity split."

"Nothing to worry about," Kieran chimed in, his tone steady, though the glance he exchanged with his brother was enough to prick at my nerves. Dolts.

“Yeah, but neither of you are answering my question. Who’s shooting right now?” Sylus was way capable of managing himself; heck, to say he couldn't would be lying straight through my teeth. He was the esteemed leader of Onychinus, who could miraculously (and freakishly, of course) mend himself back together. He feared nothing. He feared no one. He was the one feared.

Finally putting a brain cell to use, Luke placed a hand on his hip while another scratched his chin. “Not sure, but… could be something with that Hunter Association girl.”

My face morphed from concern and annoyance to confusion. Hunter Association girl? I couldn’t help but wonder, “Who?”

“You don’t know? Boss found the Hunter Association girl he was looking for?” Luke scratched his hood, creating a party of confusion between him and me. Kieran was also slowly joining the group as the conversation ensued. No, I wasn’t heartbroken right away. No, I wasn’t jealous. Yes, I was perplexed.

He was looking for someone, and he didn’t tell me?

Surely, he had a reason for doing so, but I could only pray that maybe, as an assistant, I would be informed of operations Onychinus was leading. Unless, of course, they were personal feats. Then, there would be a clear boundary that would make it evident I didn’t need to meddle in whatever Sylus was orchestrating.

Friend, but wasn’t I at least a friend? Could he not confide in me there? I mean, there was a part of him that I had unlocked over the previous years. Surely those bits and pieces of Sylus I got to learn through my own very eyes would at least trust me enough to tell me what the hell he was doing? Right?

Be levelled.

There is always more than what meets the eye.

Be levelled.

I slowly nodded, but the tension in my chest didn’t dissipate. “I did not know of her, but if you say it’s alright, I’ll take your word. You two better pray that I won’t be having to clean blood later, otherwise, you two…” I trailed a clenched fist with a thumb out at my neck with a menacing hiss imitating a knife at a throat. I knew better than to be vulnerable, let alone in front of the twins, and the best way to handle hurt in this moment was to pretend it didn’t exist with humor. The twins frantically saluted with an incoherent plea for their lives before dashing out. I returned to my work, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

I had to clean up, and it was worse than I thought.

Despite my weak attempts at swallowing the questions gnawing at my chest, every passing second listed another question to my list. I was a student of heartache and worry, and my summative was to understand where I would lay with Sylus in the coming days.

After I had finished my reading, the silence was deafening, and I could hear it alluring me to see what had developed since the shot. It had been hours since the initial bullet, and the assistant part (definitely not the confused, aching part) of me wanted to know if there was anything for me to take care of or, you know, any answers for those questions.

I noted that both the mystery girl and Sylus weren’t in the estate anymore, but I saw the blood. This line of work built up a tolerance for gore and grim, but it still wasn’t pleasant. It seemed as if someone had haphazardly tried to clean it up, but I wished I had never overheard the conversations between them as they returned.

As the days pursued, I noticed a shift in Sylus’s routine. A woman I hadn’t seen before appeared in the halls, a faint shadow following Sylus’s movements. Truly, it would have been easier if she wasn’t prancing around the estate, because then I wouldn’t have to be a first-hand witness to seeing how he looked at her. It takes no fool to see that he looked at her with a warm gleam in his eye. A gleam that wasn’t his evol, but a look that drank her whole, his eyebrows raised and only furrowing at her witty remarks. I never meant to notice, but it seemed like he was breathing easier, yet his muscles were itching to grab her.

To crave someone.

My heart was slowly revolting in my chest, plotting an anarchy against my mind. A loud demand that I seek closure. My story was over, but I begged, “Let me be broken,” my pitiful mind whispering in surrender.

Sylus, who usually moved like a lone wolf through the estate, now seemed tethered to her. She occupied the guest room, accompanied him on errands, and their dynamic seemed effortless - something I would never relate to. Under the assumption that all that is sweet takes time, I patiently waited for him; supported him; cared for him. The banter I had once shared with him now played out between them, and my tongue was left scratchy from the lack of words falling off it.

It wasn’t jealousy I felt, not exactly. It was the quiet unease of witnessing something intimate from the outside, knowing I was no longer the one who fit into the empty spaces. I was a puzzle piece to replace; a hastily drawn picture on a piece of paper, cut out to only fill in for the missing piece.

Still, I couldn’t deny how easily they seemed to get along. She wasn’t intrusive or overbearing; she blended into the environment, a piece that completed the puzzle of Sylus’s world. Watching her settle into the rhythm of things only served to emphasize my growing sense of distance, and it was vividly clear to me that she was the puzzle piece he was hunting for.

When the announcement came that Sylus and Ms. Hunter - as he would call her - would be attending an auction together, an event critical to our operations, it wasn’t a surprise. But Lord, did it sting. I had been by his side countless times for situations like this, yet now I was relegated to the periphery.

The day of the auction was oddly quiet. He was enamored by her. She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. The dress he had tailored for her, the jewels that hung on her skin - they made her look stunning. If the case was different, I would have complimented her myself, but the depth of pain hurting within me begged me to stay back. As they left together, I busied myself with the tasks left behind, avoiding the gnawing thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me. The image of them - so perfect for one another - haunted my mind. Hours stretched on, and by the time they returned, their closeness was undeniable.

It hurt.

I promised myself to be level-headed, but all that had occurred was the feelings I had so helplessly grasped onto being sent to the gullies. I could neither leave nor stay. A sickening game where I would run in circles by myself. Since when did I become so dependent on him? I thought my individuality was what brought me here.

Sylus’s guarded demeanor had softened around her. They moved as though they’d known each other for years, their conversation punctuated by shared laughter and subtle gestures.

I told myself it didn’t matter.

That it was just business, that whatever bond they’d formed wasn’t meant to affect me.

The lies my mind told to my heart.

I would happily take whatever piece of him I could get.

So, I stayed forgotten.

Please don’t repost, translate, or redistribute my work without permission. Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. All rights to Love and Deepspace and its characters belong to Infold Games and respective copyright holders. © kashedelic 2024

[memento-rory]

✭ 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭. 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉.

✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you finally find out why schlatt ghosted you, and set things right, once and for all.

✭ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: the teeniest bit of smut.

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.5k

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: here she is, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. dual pov, because i can’t resist diving into schlatt’s psyche. enjoy! 🩵

Your eyes stay trained on Schlatt’s back as he meanders back to his room, running a hand through his hair. A scowl finds its way onto your face. Did you not just have a moment? Why is he running from it?

“Whasuwihum?”

Your scowl stays on your face as you turn toward the voice you just heard, and Amelia scowls right back at you with concern.

“Sorry, what?” You say, unable to make out what Amelia had asked because you were so deep in thought.

“I said, ‘What’s up with him?’ Is everything okay?”

Amelia eyes you in an accusatory way, and you wave your hand dismissively. She has a right to be accusatory, but you’re not about to reveal what happened in the elevator to her, or anyone else for that matter. It wouldn’t be right to spill Schlatt’s secret. He’d never spilled yours.

“Yeah,” You say, recovering quickly as everyone waits for your answer, “He’s just a little tired from the tournament. Too much exercise, too much sun. You know how it is.”

“Riiiight,” Amelia drawls, clearly suspicious of your weak answer. Her suspicion elicits an awkward silence between the whole group, but luckily, James comes to your rescue.

“I’m fuckin’ starvin’, you guys. Let’s get some grub!” He exclaims, clapping his hands together.

James shoots you an apologetic look as everyone starts to head into the elevators, and it finally dawns on you. All of the weird looks, all of the circumstances that put you and Schlatt in close proximity — the seats on the airplane, the rooms next to each other, the tournament teams. He knows. He knows and he’s been fucking Parent Trap-ing the two of you.

James watches as your eyes narrow in realization, and his own go wide. He knows that you know that he knows. He gives you a sheepish grin, no doubt silently praying you’ll have mercy on him the next time you get him alone.

Part of you is a little miffed, sure, but that part is immediately shoved aside by the part of you that just wants to know what went wrong with Schlatt. James knows! You need to pick his brain, push his buttons, do whatever it takes to get him to reveal all his secrets.

James starts to make his way to the elevator, but you grab onto the back of his shirt, yanking him away from the group. He lets out a comically loud yelp.

“He’ll be down in a minute,” You plaster a smile on your face, “I need to talk to him about… wedding things.”

“Okay…” Amelia says, as the elevator doors start to close. She knows something is definitely up, and you shoot her a pleading look. I’ll fill you in later.

Satisfied with the silent promise, Amelia smiles as the doors close.

You waste no time turning on James. “Spill. What do you know?”

James shakes his head, holding his hands up on surrender. “I don’t know anything.”

“I can’t believe you’re lying to me right now,” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

“So you do know something!” You point a finger at him.

“Shit.” James drags a hand down his face, “Look, (Y/N)—”

“I just want to know what I did wrong.” You interrupt him, before sighing. “Things were really good, and I just… I don’t know what happened. Surely there’s something you could tell me.”

James looks like he wants to say something, like there’s nothing else in the world he’d rather do than say something, but he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, dude. It’s not my place.”

You have to give it to James — he’s a damn good friend, annoyingly so. You know you shouldn’t keep poking, but your curiosity wins out.

“You’re essentially Parent Trap-ing us, but you won’t tell me why?”

James stares at you incredulously. “I’m not Parent Trap-ing you!”

“Yes you are!”

“…Fine. I am.” James heaves a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Is it working?”

“It would, if I knew what happened.” You try again, and James shakes his head again.

“Maybe you should ask him.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yeah, because that will definitely work out. He’s so forthcoming with his feelings.”

“Can’t help ya, man. Sorry.” James shrugs, and you know his lips are zipped for good. “Now, can we eat? I’m so hungry.”

“Fine.” You huff, pressing the button to call the elevator. As you wait, you look back over at James. “Does Amelia know you’re Parent Trap-ing us?”

“It was her idea.” James smirks mischievously at you. “Well, sort of, anyway. She doesn’t know anything, she just wants you and Schlatt to get along like you used to.”

“Yeah, well…” You sigh, as the elevator dings, “Her and me both.”

• ✭ •

Schlatt feels like shit for ditching dinner with everyone, but what else is he supposed to do? Act like everything is fine, like he wasn’t just scared shitless in a tiny metal death box? What would they all think of him if they knew?

He’s glad that it was just you and him in that elevator. He wasn’t lying when he said you make people feel comfortable. He’s always found you to be a comforting presence — well, maybe not as of late, but still. He doesn’t know what would have happened had you not been in that elevator with him.

Schlatt flops down on his bed, his back hitting the plush comforter, the fabric billowing beneath him. He puts his hands over his face, taking a deep breath, releasing it full force as he recalls the way you hesitated in the elevator. He’d put the ball in your court and you didn’t make a single move.

It’s over, done, finished. He tried, you didn’t reciprocate. He finally had his answer.

It’s obvious that you care about him — the way you calmed him down in the elevator was proof of that — but you don’t feel the way that he feels about you. It’s time to put those hopes to bed.

Schlatt tries to keep himself busy for the next hour or two, waiting for word that everyone is back from dinner so he can try to regain even the slightest sense of normalcy. He turns on the TV, flipping through the channels, romcom after romcom torturing him. He scrolls through his phone, going through his friends’ stories on Instagram, before coming across a video of you and Schlatt celebrating your tournament win. He watches as your face lights up when he picks you up off the ground, spinning you around. Fuck.

Schlatt drops his phone onto his stomach with a huff. He thinks about just going to sleep for the night, but his phone pings with a text from its spot on his stomach.

> from: (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

>> balcony?

Fuuuuck.

• ✭ •

Dinner goes smoothly, everyone too busy gorging themselves on the delicious food and enjoying present company to prod you about what happened in the elevator. You mostly just pick at your food, too in your head to even think about eating.

Maybe James was right. Maybe you just needed to talk things out with Schlatt. It’s the one thing you haven’t tried.

He’d almost kissed you in the elevator. That has to mean something, right?

You can’t play this guessing game anymore. You have to know. You have to.

As everyone almost finishes their meals, you order a to-go dinner for Schlatt, hoping the fact that you’ve shown up with food for him will soften him up enough to make him want to listen to what you have to say. James eyes you from across the table, lifting up his glass to you, a proud smile on his face. You smile back at him.

It’s now or never. You need to tell Schlatt that you’re still interested, if he’ll have you.

When you get back to your room, you immediately head out onto your balcony, sending a text to Schlatt.

> to: J. Schlatt

>> balcony?

• ✭ •

Schlatt looks up from his phone to his open curtains, and he sees you leaning over your railing, giving him a shy wave. You stare at him hopefully, and how is he supposed to deny you when you look like that in the moonlight?

He sighs as he gets up from his bed, padding over to the sliding glass door. He slips outside, the cool night breeze just barely blowing his hair out of his face.

“Hey.” You greet him first, your voice low, “Just wanted to check on you, see how you’re feeling, after… well, you know.”

“I’m fine.” Schlatt says, and the phrase comes out clipped, gruffer than he’d like for it to. Your face falls just slightly, and he immediately wants to apologize, but what good would it do? You’ve clearly made up your mind about him. He should have known better.

“Okay, well, I brought you dinner. Thought you might be hungry.” You tell him, holding a to-go box out to him over the railing of your balcony. As he takes it from you, you say, “I just got you what you ordered last time, I hope that’s okay.”

Schlatt wishes things would just go back to the way they were at the start of the trip. He wishes you hated him again. He doesn’t know what to do with your kindness, or how to stop the butterflies from fluttering in his stomach at the nervous smile on your face. God, he loves that smile. He thinks he has since the day he met you.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, staring down at the box, and you nod, awkwardly twiddling your thumbs as a silence descends over the two of you.

“Are we okay?” You blurt out, and Schlatt looks up at you. “I know in the elevator, we… Well, you know, there was a second there… I—”

“Stop.” Schlatt shakes his head. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It is what it is.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Schlatt doesn’t really understand what you’re confused about.

“Schlatt—” You start, but Schlatt interrupts you again.

“We’re fine. Just— leave it.” Schlatt says, holding up the box, “Thanks for dinner. G’night, (Y/N).”

Without waiting for a response, he disappears back into his room.

• ✭ •

What the fuck?

You have half a mind to hop over the railing to his balcony, to pound on the glass of the door, demanding him to hear you out. You don’t know what good that would do, he’s probably still stressed from what happened earlier and he’s not in a good place to talk. You can understand that.

You could try again tomorrow, but you don’t know when you’ll have a chance, since the entire day is blocked out with all-day bachelorette party activities, and this isn’t something you could just text him.

You breathe out a resigned sigh, heading back into your room for bed.

Maybe it just isn’t meant to be. Maybe you guys had your chance, and that’s it — just a fleeting moment only meant to last a short time. A month together was better than no time at all, you suppose.

• ✭ •

Schlatt is the first person to arrive in the lobby in the morning.

He hadn’t meant to be up and at ‘em so early this morning, but he’d hardly slept anyway, too wrapped up in his thoughts. He was up for hours wondering if he should have given you the chance to talk, wondering if maybe you were planning to actually say something that would have surprised him.

But would anything you had to say negate what you’d said all those months ago? Would he ever stop hearing those words in the back of his head? How could he ever be sure that you didn’t still feel that way, even if you said otherwise?

He’s gotten his hopes up too many times. Nothing can really change what happened between the two of you, and he was silly to think otherwise.

Maybe you were both just meant to be friends, and that’s it. At least then you wouldn’t have to justify him being in your life.

“Hey.” Schlatt hears you say, and he looks up from his phone to see you walking up to him. You take a seat in the other chair beside him, giving him a small smile.

“Hey.” He says back, returning the smile. He doesn’t have it in him to be unkind to you anymore — not after you brought him dinner, and especially not after the elevator.

He can tell that you’re surprised by his civility.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be down here yet.” You tell him. “I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. Didn’t really sleep.”

“Yeah, me either.” Schlatt admits, running a hand through his hair. “I never thanked you, yanno, for calmin’ me down.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “All good. You did the same for me. It’s only fair. At least I didn’t have to carry you anywhere.”

Schlatt can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him at that. He watches as your smile grows. It feels nice to laugh with you — much nicer than the alternative. Perhaps, one day, that could be enough for him.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” You ask him, “Still anxious, or…?”

Schlatt nods slowly. At least he could use the elevator as an excuse. “Yeah, was just a lil shook up about it still.” He looks over at you, “What about you?”

“You know me,” You shrug, leaning back in the chair, “It’s hard for me to sleep anywhere that isn’t my own bed.”

“I do know that.” Schlatt nods again as he recalls the nights you spent in his bed, “You toss and turn like a fuckin’ maniac.”

You let out a laugh, giving him another shrug. “Didn’t seem to bother you then.”

And it still wouldn’t bother me now, Schlatt thinks. “Yeah, well. I’m a different man now.” He says instead, and he watches your smile falter.

“Clearly.” You murmur, looking away from him.

Shit. He was just trying to joke with you.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” Schlatt sighs, reaching over to gently tap your knee with the back of his hand, “I was just j—”

You move your leg out of his reach as everyone starts to trickle into the lobby. Of course, they all immediately clock the tension between the two of you, and Schlatt sighs inwardly.

James catches Schlatt’s eyes, a scowl settling onto his face as he glances over at you, and then back at Schlatt. Schlatt’s eyebrow raises, but James just shakes his head, looking disappointed.

What the fuck is that about?

• ✭ •

Okay, so, yeah, maybe you reacted a little poorly to Schlatt’s bad attempt at a joke. In your defense, you’re still a little bent out of shape over what happened last night. You can’t help that it hurts.

Amelia has her arm looped in yours as the two of you stroll a couple paces ahead of the rest of the bridesmaids on your way to the spa for a day of pampering and relaxation.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Amelia asks, and you’re honestly surprised it’s taken this long for her to ask. “You’ve been so weird. Talk to me.”

You did promise that you would fill her in. You bite your lip, before taking a deep breath, placing your other hand atop hers. “You have to promise you won’t be mad.”

“I will do no such thing.” Amelia says teasingly, giving your arm a squeeze. “Come on, out with it.”

You lean in close, to make sure there’s absolutely no chance of the other bridesmaids hearing you. You pause, trying to figure out how to start your explanation. “You remember Jasper’s birthday party?”

“Oh, God, do I,” Amelia snickers, “James and Ted got so drunk that they got up on the table and started serenading her.”

“I went home with Schlatt that night.”

Amelia immediately stops laughing, her eyes going wide. “Shut up.”

“…And nearly every night after that one, too, for like, a month.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“…And then he ghosted me out of nowhere.”

“Oh, my God,” Amelia breathes out, shaking her head. “No fucking wonder you’ve been at each other’s throats.” She opens the door to the spa as you arrive, letting you step in first, before entering herself. “Wait, why is he being an asshole if he’s the one that ghosted?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out!” You exclaim a little louder than you’d meant to. You lower your voice again. “I tried to talk to him last night but he blew me off.”

“So you’re still interested?”

“I really thought I wasn’t, but after everything that’s happened this week… All my feelings for him just came rushing back. I thought maybe he felt the same, but I don’t think he does anymore.”

“Well, shit.” Amelia sighs, commiserating with you. She pauses for a minute to check in at the desk, and the woman at the front desk says it’ll be a few minutes before they’re ready for all of you.

You look away from the desk, reaching down to squeeze Amelia’s hand. “You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you, are you?”

“No, because you did tell me, eventually,” Amelia says, “I just don’t know why it took so long for you to do it.”

“I thought about telling you as soon as it happened, but I wanted to keep it private for a while because you and James are… well…”

“Enthusiastic, I know,” Amelia admits, before letting you continue speaking.

“By the time I actually wanted to tell you guys, shit went south, and then I didn’t want to tell anyone. It would have been too awkward to be like, ‘Hey, guess what, I started seeing Schlatt and fell in love with him but we’re actually broken up now and none of you knew until now!’”

“Wait, you’re in love with him?!” Amelia cries out, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth, but it’s too late. All of the bridesmaids have heard her.

Instantly, they swarm you, but they don’t have a chance to prod you for answers before you’re all called back into the spa.

• ✭ •

Schlatt’s game is off, and he knows that everyone else knows it.

He swings his golf club, just barely clipping the ball, sending it flying at a weird angle. It lands in the rough, and Schlatt drags a hand down his face in frustration.

“Dude, get your head in the game.” James says, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, Troy Bolton,” Ethan snorts, and James rolls his eyes.

“We’re literally on a golf course. I could bust out Bet On It right now.” James threatens, striking a very Troy Bolton pose, which makes everyone laugh.

Well, everyone except Schlatt, who is too deep in his own head to even register what’s being said around him.

Eddy waves a hand in Schlatt’s face, trying to bring him back to reality. Schlatt blinks, and Eddy comes into focus.

“What’s going on with you?” Eddy asks, “You’re, like, not here.”

“Sorry,” Schlatt mumbles, shaking his head, “Just been a weird couple’a days.” When they all look at him in concern, he waves his hand, “All good, guys, really. Quit fussin’ over me. Shit’s weird.”

“Excuse us for carin’ about you, man.” Ted tries to lighten the mood, but Schlatt just scowls at him. Natalie elbows Ted in the side.

Schlatt wonders if he should just fess up, so everyone can stop looking at him like some wounded puppy, but he fears those looks will only get worse when he confesses what’s been bothering him.

On the other hand, it might be nice to finally get it off his chest.

Schlatt takes a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll tell you what’s up, but then you gossipy fucks have to drop it, okay?”

Everyone nods in agreement, and Schlatt huffs out a sigh. “I was seein’ (Y/N) for a while.”

Nobody says a word, and James nods at Schlatt, beckoning him to continue.

“It was really fuckin’ nice — for a while, anyway — and then she said some bullshit that I can’t seem to fuckin’ forget.” Schlatt says, running a hand through his hair, “She was like, ‘Can’t believe I’m with someone like you,’ or whatever, and when I asked her what she meant by that, she said somethin’ like, ‘Well, you’re just so… you.’”

A collective wince leaves his friends’ mouths.

“And maybe she didn’t mean anythin’ by it, I don’t fuckin’ know, but it stung. Was like she was embarrassed by me or somethin’. So I cut and run, to save her the embarrassment of having to tell people we were a thing.”

“When was this?” Ethan asks.

“A year ago,” Schlatt answers him, surprisingly unbothered by his curiosity. He was right — it does feel good to get off his chest. “Haven’t really had to be near her for very long ‘til now. It was easy at first, like, I thought if i just acted like a real asshole, she wouldn’t want anything to do with me, and we could just save ourselves the trouble. A lotta shit has happened this week—” Schlatt eyes Ted, who gives him an apologetic look, “— that’s really made me realize that I really fuckin’ miss her. I don’t know how to be normal around her.”

“And you don’t think she feels the same way?” Natalie speaks up, cocking her head to the side, “Because — and I’m speaking from an outside perspective here, so take this with a grain of salt, I guess — from what I’ve seen, I think she might feel the same way.”

“Nah,” Schlatt shakes his head, “I don’t think she does.” He doesn’t mean to be dismissive, but he’s mostly made his peace with everything, there’s no use getting his hopes up again. “It’s cool. I don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“All good, bro,” James says, before pointing at Natalie with the end of his club. “You’re up, Nat. Show these chumps how it’s done.”

Schlatt gives James a small smile, a silent sign of his gratitude for saving him from any more questions or comments. James winks at him, before gesturing for everyone to get out of Natalie’s space so she can make her swing.

As everyone returns to the game, Ted pulls out his phone, his thumbs flying wildly over his keyboard.

• ✭ •

You’ve been at the spa for hours, getting the full workup — massage, facial, manicure, pedicure, sauna. It’s been nice to spend so long relaxing after the week you’ve had, and your friends have been kind enough to leave you alone about what they’d overheard hours ago, at least while you relax.

But, of course, that can’t last forever.

They all descend upon you like vultures at lunch.

“Okay, spill,” Jasper says, as the mimosas start flowing, “Who are you in love with, and why are we just now hearing about it?”

“Only spill if you want to, though!” Maple comes to your defense. “We totally understand if you don’t.”

“Right, what they said,” Jasper nods, but you can see in her eyes that she’s dying to know, and you can’t really blame her. If it was any of them, you’d feel the exact same way.

“Is it Schlatt?” Kelsey blurts out, and your eyebrows shoot up. Fuck, are you that obvious?

Kelsey’s eyes go wide at your silence. “Oh, my God. I was joking. It’s Schlatt?”

“It’s Schlatt.” You confirm, nodding slowly.

“Bitch, you owe me ten dollars.” Jasper says to Kelsey, who huffs a sigh, pulling out her phone to send Jasper the money.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jasper says as you scowl at her, “You forget how well I know you.”

“How long have you felt that way about him?” Maple asks, moving the attention back to the matter at hand.

“A while.” You admit, moving some of your lunch around with your fork, “We were together, for a bit.”

You fill them in on everything that happened between you and Schlatt, and by the end of it, they’re all scowling.

Kelsey rolls her eyes. “So he ghosted you and he’s acting like this?”

“That’s what I said!” Amelia exclaims, stabbing into her lunch with her fork.

“Look, your guess is as good as mine,” You lean back in your chair. “It’s whatever, now, though. I tried to talk to him last night and he didn’t want to hear it, so.” You shrug, taking a sip of your drink.

“Just forget about him for now,” Maple says, “Let’s just focus on having fun today, yeah? It’s not every day you get to be on a beautiful island with all your friends.”

“I’ll cheers to that,” You smile at them, before raising your glass, clinking it against all of your friends’ glasses.

• ✭ •

The bachelor’s day ends with a trip to a fancy-ass steakhouse, and thankfully, no one brings you up again.

Schlatt returns to his room for the night with a full belly and a massive weight lifted off of his shoulders.

He empties his pockets at his nightstand, setting his phone down, before making his way to the bathroom for a shower before bed.

• ✭ •

The bachelorette’s day ends with a huge cuddle pile in Kelsey’s room, all of the bridesmaids wrapped up in big puffy robes with flutes full of champagne in their hands in the king size bed.

“Let me get a picture.” You say, pulling out your phone for the first time all day. As you go to open your camera, you spot a notification of several texts from Ted, received while you were at the spa.

> from: teddy 🧸

>> i definitely shouldn’t be telling you this, but i can’t stand seeing you and schlatt unhappy. schlatt just told all of us the reason he ghosted

>> he said that you said something that made him think you were embarrassed of him so he cut and run

>> he’s been acting like an asshole to push you away, so you wouldn’t have to explain yourself if you ever told people about your relationship

“Oh my God.” You breathe out, putting a hand over your mouth.

“What? What is it?” Amelia asks, leaning over your shoulder to read the texts.

“Ted found out why Schlatt ghosted me.” You tell the rest of the group, “He thinks I was embarrassed of him.”

“Were you?” Jasper asks you, and you shake your head.

“No, I wasn’t.” You tell her, as you wrack your brain for what you could have said that gave him that idea in the first place.

“You have to tell him!” Maple exclaims, sitting up.

Your eyebrows furrow. “What, now?”

“Yes!” Kelsey nods furiously, “You’ve got to, dude.”

“What if he doesn’t want to hear it?” You ask, and Amelia shakes her head, getting up off the bed to pull you to your feet.

“He has the wrong idea about you, (Y/N),” Amelia says, pulling the robe off of you and fluffing your hair, “All you have to do is clear it up!”

You do. You do have to clear it up. God, you can’t believe he’s gone this long thinking that you were embarrassed of him. You feel awful. No wonder he was such an asshole.

“Okay.” You nod, exhaling a deep breath, “Okay. I’m gonna do it. Wish me luck.”

Everyone cheers as you leave.

You walk the short trip down the hall, texting Schlatt to meet you on your balconies once again.

Once you get to your room, you step outside into the cool night air, and you wait.

• ✭ •

Schlatt walks out of the bathroom, a towel in his hand as he starts to dry his hair. He wanders back to his bed, picking his phone up off the nightstand. His eyes go wide as he spots two texts from you.

> from: (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

>> (30mins ago) balcony? it’s important.

>> (15mins ago) please, schlatt.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Schlatt scrambles across his room, damn near tripping over himself as he rushes to get dressed. God, he hopes you’re still out there waiting for him.

• ✭ • ✭ •

You stand up from your chair the second Schlatt comes outside. You thought for sure that he wasn’t going to show, and now that he has, your heart pounds against your ribcage.

Schlatt doesn’t get a word out before you start talking, making your way over to the railing of your balcony.

“Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it the way you think I meant it.” You blurt out, and Schlatt’s eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise.

“What?” Schlatt asks, a confused expression sprouting across his face. You’re not talking about what he thinks you are, are you?

“Ted told me why you ghosted.”

“That gossipy bitch.” Schlatt mumbles under his breath.

“I’ve never been embarrassed of you. Ever.” You keep talking, gripping the rails and wishing he was closer. “I don’t even know what it was that I said, but I promise, I never meant it like that.”

Schlatt looks down at the tile of the balcony. “You said you couldn’t believe that you were seein’ ‘someone like me,’” He makes air quotes with his fingers, looking back up at you.

An incredulous laugh bubbles up out of you before you can stop it. Schlatt scowls at you.

“Yeah, real funny.” Schlatt starts to leave, but you reach out over the railing to try and stop him.

“No, Schlatt, I’m sorry,” You say, shaking your head, “I said that because I couldn’t believe you wanted to be with someone like me.”

“What?” Schlatt asks again, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I was just surprised, that’s all.” You explain, “You had so many girls fawning over you all the time, I just thought… I just thought it was crazy that you picked me out of all of them.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Schlatt’s voice raises just slightly, and he stares at you in disbelief.

“Um… No…” You stammer out, and Schlatt throws his arms up in frustration.

“(Y/N), I’d have to be a real fuckin’ idiot to not pick you.” Schlatt declares, moving over to his own railing. “I have been head over fuckin’ heels for you since I saw you in that stupid hat—”

“Beret.” You correct him, and he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“—and there isn’t a single moment where I’m not thinking about you.” Schlatt continues, leaning with his hands on the railing. He wishes you were closer. “I shouldn’t have ever ghosted ya like that. I should’ve just asked what you meant, but I got a little insecure, I guess. Couldn’t imagine someone like you pickin’ me either.”

“I can’t imagine picking anyone else.” You admit, and Schlatt swears he feels his heart swell. For once, he welcomes the butterflies that find their way into his stomach.

“Can I kiss you?” Schlatt asks, and you nod furiously as Schlatt leans as far over the railing as he can. You meet him in the middle, your lips connecting in a very long overdue kiss.

Schlatt pulls away from you, mumbling, “Fuck this,” before throwing his leg over the railing.

“Schlatt, oh my God!” You let out a shocked laugh, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doin’?” Schlatt quips, balancing on the lip of his balcony, before moving his foot to the lip of your balcony, “I’m tryna get over there so I can give my girl a proper kiss.”

My girl. God, that’s all you’ve wanted for months.

Effortlessly, Schlatt bridges the gap between the balconies, and he doesn’t even wait to kiss you again before he gets to your balcony, still standing on the edge.

You let out another laugh as you pull away from him, grabbing onto his arm to steady him as he steps over the railing of your balcony. As soon as his feet are flat on the tile, he reaches out, placing a hand at the back of your neck, pulling you to him. He slots his lips against yours again, sighing into your mouth at the feeling of you against him once again. He wants nothing more than to show you just how much he’s missed you, so he starts to do just that.

Schlatt leads you over to the lounge chair, laying you down onto the plush cushions, attaching your lips together once more. He settles in between your legs, hiking your leg up to his hip, dragging his hand down the soft skin of your thigh.

Schlatt’s lips move from your lips to your jaw, then down to your neck as he slides a hand up your shirt, cupping one of your breasts. You arch up into his touch, but put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“As much as I’m loving this,” You breathe out, your voice catching in your throat as Schlatt sinks his teeth into your neck, “We can’t— We can’t do this out here.”

Schlatt sits up then, smiling at you deviously. “Why don’t we go inside then?”

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 ✭ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 ➞

[halaboyz]

did you like her in the morning?, yunho

ateez bf! yunho x fem! reader angst angst angst angst (pre-breakup) wc: 1.5k warnings: desperation idk, mentions of cheating, a whole lot of cursing, mention of k-word and d-word for the sake of the argument a/n: you voted for him YOU GOT IT ! this has two POVs, the other one (the actual arranged marriage) is here ! i think this hurts more idk !!! don't ask me ,, i alternately use jeong and yunho in the dialogues bc "jeong!!" feels a little bit more powerful and "yunho" seemed soft so don't bash my head for that !!

"...Can we talk?" Yunho calls over the phone a few minutes of silence after the line got connected. He sounded awfully serious, yet so soft-spoken.

"Of course, Love. What time do you get home?" You coo, staying calm amidst the anxiety building up. "I've also got groceries I just picked up to cook so if you want to eat something, tell me,"

"No, y/n. I meant now. Can we talk now?" You hear him sigh, and you could make out in your head that he was slightly shaking his head and massaging his forehead.

"Okay, since you seem so head-straight about it. What is it?" You surrender, putting your groceries down and sitting on the couch. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. We just need to talk," Yunho quickly shuts you down, as if he was in a rush to let everything out. "I... I'm not going home."

"..Okay? We'll see each other tomorrow night though, right?"

"No, I meant I'm not going home. Anymore." And silence. It wasn't even supported with any explanation. Any kind, any type. As if you were just to accept what he's saying.

"What do you mean, Yunho?"

"I'm not going to go home anymore, y/n. Not anymore." It was that simple. It was just like that. Told like news, and he wasn't even fazed while you were nearly on your knees to understand.

"Love, I don't understand. What do you mean you're not coming home? Hmm?" Your voice wavered as you begged for him to say something.

"I'm not going home anymore, y/n. What's so hard to understand?" He exasperatingly replies, making you furrow your brows.

"I asked what you fucking meant! Make me understand, Yunho! You can't just drop a bomb like this and act like I'm the dumb one here!" You exclaim through the phone, jumping on your feet and then going back and forth the living room and the front door. "I know we're not getting along the past few weeks but god, Yunho. Let's at least work it out,"

"I'm getting engaged, y/n." You wait. You wait, and wait, and wait. For further excuses. Further explanations. Anything. If you thought that the words 'I'm not going home anymore,' was a bomb, this was self-destruction. You shouldn't have asked, huh?

But when it was followed with nothing but silence and his sighs, you scoff in disbelief.

"...That's it?" You just... held on. He was being ridiculously funny that an insignificant, lifeless laugh comes out of you.

"Dad set us up."

"So, that's it?" You reply quickly when all he does was take his time sculpting an acceptable answer, but he was greatly failing at it. So when you replied that quickly, he doesn't try anymore. "Come home, Yunho."

"No, y/n."

"Come home and fucking explain looking at me in the eyes, Yunho. I'm not going to make any engagement happen if you're not going to come home, Jeong. So come home if you really want that and, end us. I'll even pack your things with my own two fucking hands," And you were stern. Yet you mean the other way around.

Just to prove something, you don't want him to come home. So that no engagement was going to happen in your territory. As you end the call in a hurry, you fall down to your knees as you sob, it was better to sob all by yourself than have Yunho standing in front of you in minutes, hours...

To which he is.

As you were hugging your knees, unable to move from your place on the floor leaning on the couch, you hear your front door opening to your horror.

Yunho, standing tall and mighty before you, as if he even dropped everything just to come home. To come home and end everything; to come home and ruin you.

He stared right at you, love long left his eyes. It was clear through your teary eyes, and it wasn't as hard for him to let go as it was with you.

"You want to leave so bad you really came home, huh?" A chuckle of some sort leaves your lips, wiping your tears.

"Are we going to make things hard for the both of us, y/n?" He starts, and he doesn't break eye contact as he slowly steps closer to you. Close enough to hear him better, far enough not to reach him to hold him back.

"It's not hard for me though, Yunho." You say out, coming as a whisper that shakes. "It's not hard for me holding on to you, Yunho. I've loved you all these years and we've had rough patches too, but it was never hard for me to always, always choose you."

You've come to think Yunho's silence was a tinge of hesitation, or so you hope. Because Yunho doesn't respond.

"You don't look like you're having a hard time too, only that we meant totally different things." You chuckle lifelessly, sniffing. "You don't look like you're having a hard time letting go of the woman you dated for five years."

"Y/n. Stop it. It wasn't an easy decision,"

"Wasn't an easy decision, for whom, Jeong?!" You've risen up to your feet to step closer to him and have him a good look of your disheveled appearance. "You're twenty-five for fuck's sake! Would your dad kill you if you went against him for once?!"

Your pushes were harsh and so you wanted it to be painful as well. But god you wished these number of pushes that hurt him amounted to the pain you were also carrying.

"Would you die if you fought for us once, Jeong?!" Yunho tries grabbing your arms but you only broke away. "You gave them the right of the decision, but how about me, Jeong?! How about me?! Am I invisible or something?! Because for all I know, I'm still fucking here!" Falling to your demise as your knees hit the floor once again.

And Yunho just watches.

"...I'm still here, Yunho..." Your hands grab his index finger ever so desperately to hold on to him. It was like hanging to your life. Because everyone knows he was your life. He was someone you'd choose a hundred times over, return to earth for, and die a million times for.

Yet he can't do anything for you. He can't fight for you, he can't stay for you, he can't.

"I wish you'd fight for us like how I do, Yunho..." You sob helplessly, leaning your forehead into his hand that you held.

Yunho watches. Just watches. You had no idea how he felt, or what he was thinking. You don't even get to think about that. You were overwhelmed with your own, so how could you even think of him now?

"We were meant to end this way or that way, y/n," Yunho mumbles, head turning to his side to avoid looking at you.

"...So you took the way you'd ruin me best," You nod unknowingly, hands slowly slipping away from his finger. "Okay."

Yunho looks at you, and how your hands slowly dropped.

"Leave." It barely leaves your lips. You don't want him to, of course, but you were done.

You were done fighting for someone who can't do the same for you. You were done holding on to something you're only slipping away on.

With courage, you meet his eyes once again as you stretch your neck up in dejection. And for the first time when Yunho step inside your shared apartment, you saw emotion in his eyes.

That is, of empathy.

He looked at you as if you were such a pitiful thing, in denial of what he made you.

In ruins. Who was taking each of her broken parts and hugging it all in desperation to keep it and everything together.

He made you like that. And now was he thinking that this is the reason why he took the easy way out.

Because if you took much longer to stay, to find more reasons to love each other, and someday just find you or Yunho in this position of yours, in despair, in shambles, and probably much even worse, he'll take the easy way out. He always will.

And you didn't deserve that now, nor will you ever.

"Leave," So you glue all your broken parts and glare at the man you loved, you once ever so loved, stern in tone and harsh in glare. "And like I said, I'll even pack all of your things for you. So leave, Jeong."

You may or may not have, still, prayed for him to stay. For the last one.

But when he doesn't, and your met with his back scrambling to the front door and closing it, you can't help another surge of tears flow as your broken parts get much more broken than it was before.

So much for gluing it back together for a mere thirty seconds.

He left in thirty seconds.

permanent taglist: @sunlightwoo

networks: @kflixnet

[buckysprettybaby]

everything but the truth

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ pairing: roomate!steve rogers x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: roomate!au, hurt/comfort, angst, miscommunication trope, jealousy, roommates to lovers, pet names (sweetheart), no use of y/n, crying, one-sided feelings (resolved), brief mentions of emotional distress.

summary: steve rogers is oblivious to how you feel about him, even though he feels the exact same way. the two of you keep dancing around your feelings until one day, he goes on a date and it all becomes too much to bear.

steve rogers masterlist

a/n: gif not mine, first steve fic! kinda nervous 🙈

“You going somewhere?”

Steve glances up from the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Yeah. Got a… thing tonight.”

“A thing?”

“Just dinner. Natasha set me up.”

You nod. Try to smile. “That’s great. Should be fun.”

You want to disappear.

Steve musters an awkward nod as he grabs his jacket from your shared hanger. In truth, he didn’t want to go on this date. He’d much rather be sitting on the sofa, watching a movie with you, maybe pretending not to memorise the crinkle of your eyes every time you laugh at his cheesy jokes.

But he goes anyway.

Because what’s he supposed to say? “Actually, I’m in love with my roommate. The one who keeps extra cookies in the cupboard because she knows I like them with tea. The one who walks around in oversized shirts and doesn’t realise she’s breaking me a little more every day.” No. That would be insane.

So he says nothing.

And you don’t stop him.

Even though your fingers are clenched tight under the throw blanket, knuckles white, like you’re holding something back too.

You stay there long after he leaves, just staring at the screen, not even watching the movie anymore. Your mind occupied on how the date might be going—if he held the door open for her like he always does for you, if he laughed at her jokes the way he does at yours, if she touched his arm and he didn’t pull away.

You hate it. You hate that you care. You hate that somewhere along the line, your heart decided it belonged to him without your permission.

You pull your knees to your chest and bury your face in the blanket, trying not to cry over something that was never yours to begin with.

He’s your roommate.

That’s all.

Except it’s not. Not really. Not when he memorised your tea order. Not when he picked up your favourite snack after that rough week without saying a word. Not when he told you his nightmares weren’t as bad when you were around.

You thought—maybe—there was something there.

But now he’s out with someone else. Someone who probably doesn’t freeze every time he brushes their hand. Someone who might be exactly what he needs.

And you’re just the girl on the couch, pretending you don’t care.

The tears fall down your face before you can stop them. They start off small at first, warm and silent, but quickly snowball—until sobs wrack your body, sharp and sudden, like they’ve been waiting all day to escape.

The tears don’t stop for a while. You cry until your throat aches, until your head throbs with it. Until the blanket is too warm and too heavy and not nearly enough to make you feel okay.

Eventually, your body gives out. The sobs fade into shaky breaths, then slow, uneven inhales. Your limbs feel like lead. Your eyes sting with salt and exhaustion.

You turn over, pressing your cheek into the tear-soaked pillow. The quiet is louder now, somehow. Like it knows exactly what happened. Like it’s mocking you for hoping.

You don’t even remember closing your eyes.

You just know that sleep finally drags you under—heavy and dreamless, the kind that comes after heartbreak—and when it does, it feels almost like surrender.

steve’s pov

The apartment is quiet when he comes in.

He closes the door softly, careful not to wake you, if you’re even asleep. Part of him hopes you are. Part of him hopes you’re not, because he wants to see you. Just for a second. Just to prove to himself that this is still the place that feels like home.

He steps into the living room and finds you curled up on the couch, blanket tucked to your chin, the flickering blue light of the TV painting soft shadows across your face.

You look small. And tired. And like you cried.

He hesitates, his heart tugging as he sees the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs softly, his hand reaching out to wipe away the stray tears.

Even in your hurt, you can’t help but lean into his touch. It’s instinct. Muscle memory. Home.

“You’re crying,” he says gently, like he didn’t already know. Like it isn’t ripping him apart.

You swallow hard, voice hoarse. “Didn’t realise you’d be back so early.”

“I left early,” he says. “Didn’t feel right.”

You blink up at him, heart pounding. “Why?”

He lets out a breath, thumb brushing your cheek again, like he’s grounding himself with every pass. “Because I spent the whole night thinking about you. About this. And how I never should’ve gone in the first place.”

You close your eyes, the sting of fresh tears creeping in. “Then why did you?”

Steve’s quiet for a beat. His voice drops, low and wrecked. “Because I thought you didn’t want me the way I want you. And if that was true…I had to try and get over you.”

The words hang there, trembling in the space between your chest and his.

“I’ve been trying to stop,” he admits. “For weeks. Every time I make you tea, or find your hair on the bathroom sink, or hear you laugh from the other room. I keep trying to shut it off, but it’s everywhere. You’re everywhere.”

You’re silent, staring at him like he’s breaking your heart and mending it at the same time.

“I cried,” you whisper. “I cried because you left. Because I thought maybe I made it all up in my head.”

He leans in closer, forehead nearly brushing yours.

“You didn’t,” he says. “You never did.”

You don’t realise you’re crying again until his thumb sweeps another tear away.

“I was so sure,” you whisper. “That you saw me as just… your roommate. Your friend.”

“I tried to.” His voice cracks. “I really tried.”

The air is thick with everything you’ve both kept hidden. All the small glances. The late-night conversations. The laughter that lingered too long.

“Steve,” you breathe, “what are we doing?”

He exhales like it hurts. “I don’t know. But I can’t pretend anymore.”

You nod, slow and uncertain. “So don’t.”

And that’s all it takes.

He leans in, eyes flicking up to yours, searching—asking, wordlessly, for permission.

You nod. It’s barely a movement, but it’s everything.

Your eyes flutter shut, lips parting softly, and Steve closes the space between you with a breathless kind of reverence. His lips brush yours like a secret, like a question he’s been waiting years to ask.

And when you kiss him back, slow and trembling and real, he knows. This isn’t just a moment.

It’s the truth finally slipping between two people who’ve been too afraid to speak it.

And for the first time in a long time, neither of you says everything—but you say enough.

please like, comment and reblog to let me know what you think ♡

© buckysprettybaby; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[moons-and-mobility-aids]

Smut Challenge 2025, Fic Three: Mirror Sex with James

Pairings: James Potter x reader Summary: James wants you to see yourself the way he sees you. Tags: fem!reader, body dysmorphia, reader’s distorted self-image, self-esteem issues, emotionally attuned!james, hurt/comfort, mirror sex, soft dom!james, vaginal sex, fingering, nipple play, clit stimulation, praise kink, emotional sex, established relationship, james reassuring you every step of the way, reader crying during sex, aftercare, no use of y/n, james pov, intense emotional intimacy, sex as emotional healing, reader learning to see herself through his eyes, reader vulnerability, gentle and affirming smut, mirror as a narrative device Word count: 3.2k words. Smut Challenge 2025 Masterlist

There has forever been a singular truth that James clings to: you are the epitome of all things beautiful and desirable. No matter how often you dissect your reflection, fixating on details only you seem to notice—each imperfection magnified beneath the cruel scrutiny of your own mind—he remains steadfast in his belief.

Tonight is no different.

"You truly don't see it, do you?" His voice is a murmur against your ear, intimate and low. He stands behind you, hands resting lightly on your hips, as if you were made of the most delicate porcelain. Together, you face the full-length mirror mounted on his bedroom wall—naked, vulnerable, yet safe within the confines of his embrace.

Your first instinct is to look away, to shield yourself from the mirror's cold, unforgiving gaze. You've spent years avoiding your own reflection, convinced it will only confirm the distorted image your mind insists is true. But James doesn't let you. His hands move up your waist—fingers splayed wide, tracing the curve of your hips as if he's committing each contour to memory.

"Look, love," he murmurs against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and familiar. "Look at how perfect you are."

You shake your head, a silent plea to be spared this intimate reckoning, but he doesn't relent. His fingers find your chin, gently but insistently turning your face back towards the mirror. "No hiding," he whispers, the words a soft command that wraps around your resistance like vine tendrils. "Not from this. Not from me."

You force yourself to look, and the familiar wave of revulsion churns in your stomach. The mirror doesn't lie—at least, that's what you've always believed. Your eyes catch on the perceived flaws, the ones that loom largest in your mind, the ones no one else seems to notice. But then there's James—his hair tousled, glasses slightly crooked, and eyes brimming with a devotion that defies everything you think you know about yourself. He's a solid presence at your back, his warmth seeping into you, countering the coolness of the room.

"See what I see," he murmurs, lips brushing against your shoulder. His hands travel up, cupping your breasts in a gentle hold. His thumbs circle your nipples, coaxing them into hard peaks, and a shiver skates down your spine. "See how beautiful you are when you're lost in me."

You catch your breath as his hips move subtly against you, his hardness nestling into the small of your back. His lips trace a path down your spine, pressing soft kisses that carry more than just physical touch—they're a silent promise, asking for your trust, your surrender.  

"James," you breathe out, a plea and a prayer entwined in a single word. It's not clear whether you're begging him to stop or continue—maybe even you don't know.

He groans, the vibration against your skin sending ripples of pleasure through your body. His strong hands hold you tighter, pulling you closer as if he wants to erase the space between you altogether. "Mmm, I could listen to you say my name all night," he murmurs, his voice a low growl that fans the flames within you. "Let me hear how good I make you feel."

His fingers trace lower, exploring the curve of your hips before teasing along your thighs. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, but when he finally slips a hand between them, it's worth every moment of waiting. You gasp, head falling back as warmth floods your body, pooling in your lower belly where James's fingers are now doing wicked things.

He knows exactly what to do, how to touch you to elicit the sweetest sounds. Your knees buckle under the onslaught of sensation, but James holds you up, supporting you with his strength. His fingers move with practiced ease, gliding through your wetness until they find the spot that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

"See how lovely you are like this," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble of desire that washes over your senses. "So soft and trusting, taking everything I give you." James exhales sharply, his gaze never leaving the reflection of your intertwined bodies. "Look at yourself, darling. Tell me you're not the most beautiful sight in the world."

Shame prickles at your skin, the instinct to argue, to push back against his words ingrained as deeply as the self-doubt that whispers cruel truths in your ear. But the way James touches you—reverent, patient, as though he's been entrusted with something sacred—makes you hesitate. Could he truly see something you cannot?

His gaze finds yours in the mirror, and the sight of your eyes meeting over your shoulder is as intimate as the act itself. His brown eyes are soft, loving, utterly devoted to you. "Let me show you just how much I cherish you," he murmurs, pressing feather-light kisses against your bare shoulder.

The first brush of him against your entrance is a gentle promise, and you gasp at the sensation. The tenderness in his touch sends a shiver down your spine, but it's the look in his eyes that truly undoes you. Love, pure and unadulterated, shines from their depths, warming you more than any physical contact could.

You brace yourself against the mirror, your fingers leaving smudged prints on the cool surface. You can feel the tension building within you, a slow-burning fire stoked by every purposeful movement of James's body against yours. He fills you, inch by careful inch, until you're convinced you've never felt more connected to another person in your life.

James's hands tighten around your hips, anchoring you to him. His movements are deliberate, calculated to draw out the pleasure coiling tight within you. Each roll of his hips sends waves of ecstasy crashing through you, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

"That's it, love," he encourages, the words a warm caress against your skin. "Just like that. Look at us... See how perfectly you take me in."

His movements become a study in deliberate purpose, each push designed to speak to your body in the language it craves. You feel him everywhere—inside and out—as he maps your curves with hands that know every secret hollow, every rise and fall. His touch brings the cool promise of relief only to leave trails of fire on your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake.

"James," you breathe, the word half plea, half prayer. His fingers tighten around your waist, grounding you as his other hand traces a path upwards, leaving shivers trailing behind. He leans in close, the heat of his breath teasing the sensitive skin of your neck before his lips follow suit. The kiss is gentle, almost reverent, but it promises more—so much more.

The mirror reflects back James's intense gaze, his eyes darkened by desire. It's not merely the physical act that captivates him—it's the sight of you coming undone under his touch. His fingers slide over your throat, feeling the quick pulse beneath your skin, the undeniable proof of your arousal. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tracing its softness before pressing down slightly, prompting you to open.

You can't look away from the mirror, from the way James watches you. There is hunger there, yes, but also something deeper, something that speaks to the connection shared between you two. His eyes don't leave yours, even as his hand drifts lower, exploring the contours of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless.  

"Look at yourself," he murmurs, fingers tightening on your hip as he angles his body closer, the planes of his chest pressing against your back. His jaw clenches as you squirm against him, a testament to the effect he has on you. "See how beautiful you are... Can you see it now? How perfectly you fit against me? As though every curve of yours was crafted just for me."

The urge to deny it, to reject his words outright, claws at you. The image in the mirror feels like a stranger—a body that has never felt like your own. But James doesn't let you retreat, his presence tethering you to the moment, refusing to let you slip back into the shadows of your own doubt. But James's grip is gentle yet insistent, his thumb tracing your lower lip before his fingers tilt your chin upwards.

"Don't look away," he breathes, his voice a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine despite the warmth radiating from him. "I want you to see what I see. How you respond to me, how well you take me... You're exquisite like this."

A soft gasp leaves your lips as he adjusts, the fullness of him pressing against your most sensitive areas. It's intense, almost too much, but there's a tenderness in his hold that speaks volumes more than the physical sensations coursing through you.

His hands glide up your stomach, fingers splaying out to cover more of your skin. "Feel that?" he whispers in awe, his voice shaking slightly with the intensity of what he's experiencing alongside you. "That's me inside you... filling you up and stretching you just right."

Your legs tremble, threatening to buckle under the overwhelming sensation, but James is there, his strong arms offering support even as his own body reacts to the pleasure of being joined with yours. He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his breath hitching as he continues to move within you. "I love watching you like this," he confesses, his voice barely audible over the sound of your shared breathing.

"Seeing you take pleasure from me, seeing you begin to understand how beautiful you are... it does something to me."

You don't even notice the tears until James does—until his thumb grazes your cheek, collecting the evidence of a battle waged silently within your mind. You blink, startled by your own emotion, by the sheer vulnerability unraveling between his hands. His features soften, the fervor in his eyes giving way to something deeper—understanding. He doesn't ask why you're crying. He already knows. He's seen the way you hesitate before mirrors, the way your hands tug at clothing, searching for ways to conceal what you believe shouldn't be seen.

"Oh, darling," he murmurs, pausing to cradle your face with one hand, the gesture grounding you as though you're a ship tethered to port. His other hand traces paths across your skin that only his fingers know, and he pays homage to each place your eyes have lingered too long in front of the mirror—those areas you've deemed unworthy or too flawed. His touch is light, almost reverent, as he maps the contours of your stomach, the expanse of your thighs, the softness of your arms. Each spot has been subject to your criticism, but under James's ministrations, they are nothing short of beautiful.

He remains there, his presence a balm to the harsh words you've etched into your own flesh over the years. His gaze holds yours, unblinking, unflinching, his voice steady as a lighthouse beam cutting through the fog of self-doubt.

"You are perfect," he insists, his words wrapping around you like a protective shield. "Every curve, every mark—every bit of you that you've wished away or hidden from view... I love them all. Now and always."

A sob catches in your throat, a mingling of pleasure and something more intense—a breaking of self-imposed barriers. It's disconcerting, this clash between your own perception and James' view of you, but his presence is steady, an anchor amidst the churning sea of your thoughts.

"Let me show you," he breathes, a whisper against your ear that sends a shiver down your spine—not from the chill of the room, but from the tender promise in his voice.

His touch is not merely a physical act; it's an affirmation. Each slow stroke of his fingers over the parts of yourself you've always hidden feels like a quiet rebellion against the voice inside you that insists you're not enough. He explores every inch with reverence, pausing at your clit, where his touch becomes more focused, more insistent. It's as if he's trying to erase your insecurities one by one, replacing them with his sure, gentle touch, each caress a wordless reassurance that you are beautiful, loved, wanted.

"That's it," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice vibrating through your very core. His eyes never leave your reflection, watching as the smallest tremor betrays both your apprehension and craving. "You're safe here. Let me take care of you."

His words wrap around you like a warm blanket, offering comfort even as his actions stoke a fire that threatens to consume you whole. Every brush of his skin against yours sends electricity arcing through your veins, every breath fanning across your neck whispers promises of ecstasy still to come. His fingers move with purposeful intent, circling your clit in patterns that steal your breath away, coaxing your body to respond to the pleasure he orchestrates.

James reads the subtle shifts in you before anyone else could—the faint change in your breath, the tension that gathers and then releases under his touch. He perceives the moment you cease to fight against yourself, choosing instead to trust, just as you perceive it in him. It's a silent exchange, a dance of shadows in the mirror, where for once, you don't turn away.

His hand sweeps over the curve of your stomach, tracing the line of your hip with practised ease. "Perfect," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "Just like this." The words are a balm, soft against your skin. Not an instruction, but an affirmation of what already is.

His eyes meet yours in the mirror, dark and intense. There's desire there, yes, but also something more profound—a respect for you, for the trust you offer in this vulnerable state. But it's not just respect; it's admiration, pride even, at how beautifully courageous you are, allowing yourself to be seen in all your raw authenticity.

He doesn't rush. Each thrust is slower than the last, as if savouring the feel of your skin beneath his touch, the intimacy of this shared moment. His gaze never leaves yours, pulling you deeper into the abyss of sensation until your eyelids flutter shut, surrendering to the overwhelming tide of pleasure.

But his hand is there again, gently tilting your chin upward, coaxing your eyes open once more.

"No, love," he breathes, his voice a warm whisper against your ear. "Keep your eyes open for me. I want you to see what I see. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you let go."

Your breath hitches, the image in the mirror wavering as pleasure coils tighter within you. His fingers trace over your clit, each stroke erasing another layer of self-doubt that has clung to you for far too long. He is still thrusting into you, a constant pressure that stretches and fills, leaving you teetering on the edge of something both terrifying and exhilarating.

"James—"

Your voice breaks, caught between a moan and a plea, but he's there to steady you, just as he's always been.

"I've got you, love," he breathes, his fingers moving up to tease at your nipple, thumb circling the hardened peak with an intimacy that makes your heart flutter. "I always have you."

The promise in his words stokes the fire within you, pushing you towards the precipice of release. Your breaths come quicker now, each one a testament to the tension building between your bodies. A shiver runs through you, not from the cold but from the anticipation of what's to come—the sweet release you've denied yourself for so long.

James feels it too, the way your muscles tense under his touch, the way your breath hitches just slightly. There's a moment where everything seems to pause, the world holding its breath in anticipation of your climax. And then, just when you think you can't take anymore, his voice is there, breaking through the silence like a lifeline.

"Come for me," he purrs, his voice a resonant hum against your ear, tethering you to the present. His gaze in the mirror is unyielding, leaving no room for distraction. "Let me feel you unravel."

With a final, deliberate roll of his hips and the insistent press of his fingers, you do.

Pleasure slams into you with a force that steals your breath, an onslaught of sensation that obliterates any semblance of restraint. Your body tightens, back arching into James's chest as the apex of ecstasy crashes over you. His name escapes your lips, half sigh, half moan, filling the space around you—a surrender, not just to him, but to the feeling, to yourself, and to the possibility of seeing yourself as he does.

A low groan tears from James's throat, his climax ripping through him like a storm after yours, and his grip tightens around your waist, fingers digging into the softness of your flesh as if to anchor himself to you, to this moment. The world narrows down to the two of you, bodies entwined in the aftermath of shared pleasure. His chest rises and falls against your back, each exhale a silent testament to the connection that binds you.

The seconds stretch into minutes, both of you suspended in the quiet aftermath. The only sounds are the gentle whisper of sheets and the rhythm of your breaths mingling in the space between you. James's voice, roughened with spent desire, breaks the silence—a murmur of praise that sends warmth radiating through your limbs, assuaging any lingering doubts.

"Perfect," he breathes against your skin, "just perfect."

James cradles your cheek with one hand, the other tracing idle patterns along the curve of your side. His thumb ghosts over your lips, brushing lightly against your skin as though afraid to disturb the tranquility that has settled over you. He leans in, pressing tender kisses to your temple, your cheek, and then your mouth—a promise sealed with the soft press of his lips against yours.

"Did you see it?" His voice is barely above a whisper, a veil of hope threaded through each syllable. He yearns for you to see yourself as he does: a masterpiece brimming with resilience, a testament to survival.

The room hangs in anticipation, the silence heavy with the gravity of what you've just shared. Then, finally, your voice emerges, small and delicate like the first light of dawn after a long, harsh night.

"I think I did," you whisper, the words barely a breath against his skin. It's an admission, a seed planted in the soil of this moment, nurtured by the warmth emanating from the man who has become your sanctuary—not just from the world, but from yourself.

His smile is a faint curve in the shadows, more felt than seen. He leans closer, the press of his lips against yours a reaffirmation of the promise they hold.

"Good," he says when he pulls away, his voice a low rumble that soothes your frayed nerves. "And I'll keep showing you for as long as it takes."

[magical-reid]

Ricochet (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky x Fem! Reader

Slow Burn/ Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 1.3K

Part 1

Summary: Bucky and the reader's relationship starts off rocky, marked by tension, mistrust, and bickering, especially due to their shared past with Hydra. However, over time, their interactions soften as they begin to understand each other better, with moments of respect, mutual concern, and subtle attraction emerging amid their fiery exchanges.

Bucky’s POV

“That was good,” I said, surprising myself as much as her.

She froze mid-punch, glancing at me with raised brows. “Did you just give me a compliment, Barnes? Should I write this down somewhere?”

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Don’t get used to it.”

She grinned—an honest, unguarded grin that hit me harder than any punch she’d thrown so far. I had to look away, focusing on wrapping the tape around my hand.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” she asked after a moment.

I glanced at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“With me,” she clarified, planting her hands on her hips. “You act like I’m the enemy every time we’re in the same room. But in the field, you’ve got my back like we’ve been partners for years. So what is it? Do you hate me, or are you just confused?”

Her words hit too close to home. I didn’t know how to answer, so I went with the truth.

“Maybe a little of both.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Reader’s POV

His words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortably honest.

I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it.

“Why?” I asked quietly.

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because I’ve seen what Hydra does to people. What it turns them into. And no matter how much you tell yourself you’re past it, it’s always there.” He paused, his gaze meeting mine. “It’s not about hating you. It’s about not trusting you.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t choose Hydra. They took everything from me—my family, my life. They made me into something I never wanted to be.”

His eyes softened, but only slightly. “That doesn’t mean it’s gone.”

“And what about you?” I countered, stepping closer. “You’re telling me you’ve erased every piece of them from your head? That there’s nothing left of the Winter Soldier?”

His jaw tightened, and I knew I’d hit a nerve.

“Exactly,” he said after a moment, his voice low. “That’s why I don’t trust myself either.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Bucky’s POV

She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. If anything, she stepped even closer, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten.

“We’re not so different, Barnes,” she said quietly. “You and me? We’re both just trying to figure out how to live with what they did to us. And maybe…” She hesitated, biting her lip. “Maybe we could stop making it harder for each other.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. She wasn’t wrong, but admitting it felt too much like surrender.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, the closest I could get to agreeing.

Her lips quirked into a small, almost-smile. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

I couldn’t help it—I chuckled. It was soft, barely there, but the sound surprised us both.

“Don’t get used to it,” I said gruffly, echoing my earlier words.

But for the first time, I wondered what it would be like if she did.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Next Mission

Reader’s POV

Something shifted after that night in the training room. Bucky was still grumpy, still snarky, but the edge of his anger had dulled. He didn’t snap as much, didn’t brush me off as often.

He even started calling me by my name instead of “new girl.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make me hope.

That hope was tested during our next mission. We were tasked with retrieving stolen Stark tech from a heavily guarded Hydra base—classic Avengers work. But things went south when we triggered an alarm.

“We need to split up,” Sam said over the comms. “Y/N, Bucky, take the west wing. Wanda and I will handle the east.”

“Got it,” I replied, glancing at Bucky. He gave a curt nod, and we moved as one, slipping into the shadows.

The west wing was a maze of narrow corridors and locked doors, but we moved efficiently, clearing the area room by room. Everything was going smoothly—until it wasn’t.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Bucky’s POV

The explosion came out of nowhere.

One minute we were sweeping the corridor, the next I was on the floor, ears ringing, debris raining down around us.

“Y/N!” I shouted, my voice barely audible over the chaos.

“I’m fine!” she called back, coughing as she pushed herself up from the rubble.

Relief flooded through me, but it was short-lived. Footsteps echoed down the hall, fast and heavy. Reinforcements.

“Can you fight?” I asked, hauling her to her feet.

Her glare was answer enough. “What do you think?”

We fell into a defensive stance, back to back, as the soldiers rounded the corner. They came at us hard and fast, but we were faster. I focused on the ones with guns, trusting her to handle the rest.

She was good. Better than I’d given her credit for.

But then I saw it—the soldier creeping up behind her, blade glinting in the dim light.

“Y/N, duck!”

She dropped instantly, and I lunged, driving my metal fist into the soldier’s chest. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Thanks,” she said, breathless but steady.

I nodded, scanning the corridor for more threats. “Let’s finish this.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Reader’s POV

By the time we secured the stolen tech and regrouped with the others, I was sore, exhausted, and more than a little bruised. But we’d done it.

On the flight back to the Tower, I leaned my head against the wall, letting the hum of the engines lull me into a half-doze.

“Hey.”

I opened my eyes to find Bucky standing over me, an ice pack in his hand.

“For your shoulder,” he said, nodding toward the spot where a Hydra soldier had landed a nasty hit.

I blinked, surprised. “Thanks.”

He sat down across from me, his expression unreadable. “You did good out there.”

The words were so unexpected that I almost didn’t know how to respond.

“Coming from you, that’s high praise,” I said, smiling slightly.

He smirked, shaking his head. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

For a moment, we just sat there, the tension between us replaced by something softer. Something almost comfortable.

And for the first time since I’d arrived at the Tower, I thought maybe—just maybe—I’d found a place where I belonged.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Bucky’s POV

I didn’t want to admit it, but she was growing on me.

Y/N was tough, smart, and—God help me—funny. She didn’t back down, didn’t let me push her away. And somewhere along the line, I’d stopped wanting to.

She was right—we weren’t so different. And maybe, just maybe, we didn’t have to do this alone.

But letting her in? Trusting her? That was a risk I wasn’t sure I was ready to take.

Not yet.

But maybe soon.

Part 3

[buttercandy16]

Betrayal

PAIRING: Agatha Harkness x Reader

SUMMARY: The reader is heartbroken and finds comfort in the arms of her best friend.

Or who betrayed who...

WARNING(s): Cheating, manipulation, and a whole lot of SMUT.

A/N: My fixation for this woman is just unhealthy and I'm loving it. Enjoy!

Y/N POV

"The day we met was the day I was no longer a man of my own because from that very moment I surrendered myself to you and you alone, my Y/N. " 

Those were the exact words that my beloved husband said to me during our wedding vows. The words that made me feel like I was the luckiest woman alive… not until now.

Greg looks so handsome when he smiles, the way his eyes disappear with such mirth. Especially right now as he dances, swaying his body to the rhythm of the music. He's not really a fan of dancing but he tried it for me because he knew how much I love dancing, it made me feel special. But now as I watch him do exactly what I had originally thought he'd only do for me, with another woman nestled intimately between his arms made me realize that I wasn't as special as I thought I was. 

The way he dances is so much better than how he used to as if he's been doing this for some time now. I originally thought the reason why he's been coming home late was due to his busy work schedule because that's exactly what he's been telling me, I guess I was wrong.

My husband is no longer mine alone…

Tears silently streamed down my cheeks unnoticed as I willed myself to turn away from the scene that turned my world upside down…

The moment I went inside my car that's when all hell broke loose. I screamed and screamed until my throat felt raw and scratched while banging my fists against the wheel. 

Cursing his name for the lies, cursing him for the promises, and cursing him for causing me the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my life.

My heart feels like it has been punctured a million times over by tiny pins. It stings at first, but now it feels as if they’ve left me numb, not even slightly painful, just numb. 

How could he do this to me? How could he cheat on me and throw years of marriage into the dust as if it meant nothing?! I gave him everything, I fully surrendered myself to him without reserve as I thought he would do the same to me… oh how wrong I was… 

I cried even harder just thinking of his betrayal but I was also starting to panic as I felt my chest constrict, making it difficult for me to breathe.

Damn asthma…

I looked through my bag for my inhaler, but it was not there. The panic and lack of air drove me to start gasping, breathing as if the oxygen had been sucked from the air around me.

I clumsily grabbed my phone and dialed the first person I could think of at this dire moment. 

After the final ring, I immediately spoke before the woman on the other line had the chance with labored breaths.

"A-agatha… I need you, please."

"Y/N? What's going on? Where are you? Are you hurt?" Despite the buzzing in my head and wheezing from my chest I can still hear the urgency and worry in her voice as she spewed one question over another. 

"Ha-hades Den… please hu-hurry. Can't breathe." I stuttered through the desperate sobs that left my lips, alerting the woman in the other line even more.

"Hades Den? The dance studio? I'll be there as fast as I can, just be somewhere safe and stay on the line with me." Agatha instructed but I could barely hear anything she was saying as I struggled to control my breathing. With my hands cold and shaking I accidentally let go of my phone making it fall next to the pedals.

"Sweetheart? Hey, I'm on the road right now. Hello? Are you still there? Y/N? Please answer me, you're gonna give me a heart attack!"

Already my thoughts were becoming jumbled like I was in a nightmare. Without uttering another sound the side of my face met the tinted window as darkness overtook my vision and my eyes closed.

_=_=_

Not really knowing how long I was out when I was suddenly jolted from my position when the door opened and I fell into the arms of my best friend who without a doubt caught me safely in her arms.

"Oh my God! Y/N!! What happened to you?!" Agatha asked worriedly.

I clung to Agatha’s arms as she helped me out of my car. She held an inhaler to my lips and I immediately took a puff, holding it in for a count of four before slowly expelling the air that tasted of chemicals. It was kinda bitter really, but after so long with asthma, I had come to associate it with easier breathing and so in a weird sort of way I liked it. Agatha put the cap back on the inhaler and jammed it deep into her pocket.

"Ho-how did you know I needed that?" I asked.

"We've known each other since we were teens, sweetheart, I'm fully aware whenever my best friend is having an asthma attack."

One of her hands kept me balanced while the other one cradled the side of my face trying to get a glimpse of my eyes.

The moment our eyes met I could see my reflection in her beautiful blue orbs, and I looked exactly like how I felt…  like shit… making me release another stream of tears down my cheeks.

"Sweetheart, please tell me. What happened?" she worriedly asked again while wiping my tears off with her thumb.

I couldn't really tell her at the moment, I just wanted to get out of here.

"Take me away, please" I softly begged, my voice barely a whisper but I knew she heard me as understanding can be seen in her eyes. 

She gently guided me towards the passenger seat of her car and put my seatbelt on me before settling on the driver's seat.

"I'll call someone to drive your car home," she informed me, I softly nodded in response. I leaned my head to the side of the window with my eyes closed as Agatha drove off away from the studio, away from my cheating husband.

_-_-_ 

"Y/N, wake up. We're here."

I woke up to Agatha's face close to mine as she gently shook me awake.

I was a little bit startled by how close her face was to mine, it was so close that I could feel her breath gently caress my cheek.

"U-um… okay," I gulped nervously, she only smiled before getting out of the car.

Surveying my surroundings, that's when I realized that she brought me to her house.

Agatha opened the door for me and gently took my hand in hers to assist me, leading me inside her humble abode.

Once inside the house, I was met with silence. Too quiet for what I was used to.

"Where’s Nicky?" I asked curiously as I sat down on the sofa while she disappeared to the kitchen.

"Nicky is having a sleepover with his friends. I also gave the staff some days off so it's just us here," she explained, coming back to me with a tray of water and alcohol.

"Alcohol?"

"I have a feeling we're gonna be needing it" she smiled mischievously before turning serious.

"So… are you gonna tell me what happened or should I play the guessing game?" she asked while pouring me a glass of expensive scotch.

"Greg." uttering his name leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. Much more bitter than the alcohol that I'm currently pouring down my throat.

"What's wrong with your husband?" Agatha asked while taking a sip from her glass.

"He's cheating on me."

Shock and disbelief painted Agatha’s face, while I tried my best to keep my tears from falling.

"You're kidding."

"I can assure you I'm not, I saw it with my own two eyes."

As Agatha sat there in shock, she laid it on heavy. "I told you he was no good! He is nothing but a cheating bastard!" After a breath, she continued, "He was never good enough for you anyway." Agatha’'s words rang true as my world started to fall apart.

Finally, I looked up with tears in my eyes asking, "What do I do? Leave him?"

Agatha doesn't even hesitate, "Hell yes! He doesn't deserve someone special like you."

I just sat and listened to whatever Agatha has to say as well as getting a little too deep with the alcohol consumption.

"You see, sweetheart, men like Greg are like damn leeches that suck the life from anything they come in contact with. He doesn't deserve an angel like you." she said with such seriousness which actually made me giggle a bit despite everything, probably because I'm getting really tipsy. I'm also starting to believe every word that comes out from her luscious red lips… 

Wait, What the hell am I thinking?!

I shook my head trying to get these… Um...weird thoughts about my best friend's kissable lips and what they probably taste like.

Arghh!!  What the hell brain?!

"Hey, are you alright?" Agatha looked at me as if I've grown two heads on the spot, which made me blush out of embarrassment. 

"Ye-yeah… Sorry… I'm getting a little too tipsy." I mumbled before getting up from the spot, which was a bad move since I lost my balance and fell backward into Agatha's lap.

"Well, this is comfortable" Agatha smirked as she wrapped her arms securely around my waist which only brought more blood flowing through my cheeks.

"A-agatha what are you doing?" I asked while trying to get her hands off me but failed miserably. She only laughed at my attempts and I was starting to get irritated not until I felt her warm lips softly pressed against my nape.

I went completely rigid from the contact, breath hitching, and my mind running wild with what the hell is going on.

"Is something wrong?" Agatha asks with a grin plastered on her face.

"N-nothing." I stuttered back to her.

Oh god, what do I do?!

"Are you sure? You seem a little flustered. Especially when you were eyeing my lips minutes ago" she asks before pausing, "It's as if you have been thinking of doing something with them."

"Agatha, I... I can explain." I tried to argue, yet I had no argument in my head.

"No need to, I understand. I've wondered for a very long time how your lips would taste as well," she whispered next to my ear. Her breath tickles my now sensitive skin.

Before I could react I felt Agatha's hand on my arm, I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Why don't we stop this little game," Agatha says, bringing her hand to my chin and making me look into her burning blue eyes, "And just… Give… In."

Oh my god! What should I do? This is so wrong.

"That's enough Agatha. I don’t want that and you won't speak to me like this any longer. I’m not like you… I’m not into women and married.”

"We both know that’s a lie,” Agatha whispered, and I watched as my best friend's hands moved to the buttons of my shirt. I could only watch her playing with it, slowly unbuttoning it one by one. "I think you do want it… In fact, I think you're deeply curious about it. You know I can treat you better, and make you feel even better than any man could."

"Aggie..." I went to protest.

"Shhhh." She whispers to interrupt me.

Frozen in my place, I was helpless to simply watch as my childhood best friend now fully unbuttoned my shirt. Her soft, slender hands move to the inside and effortlessly start to push the shirt to the side, exposing just a little of my bare skin.

"Give in, pet. Let your curiosity run wild" Agatha whispers.

My gaze meets her's, her soft lips smiling back at me as I feel soft fingertips running against my skin.

That's when I decided to surrender myself to this gorgeous woman holding me.

In a smooth and quick motion, Agatha pushes the shirt and it falls over. Only being held up by my arms, yet now my front body was fully on show. Wearing just a lace push-up bra, I remained still as Agatha's fingertips continued to explore my body.

 "Do you like it when I touch your body like this?"

Oh god, please help me.

"Y-yes." I stuttered back, closing my eyes as goosebumps appeared all over my body.

Knowing that I was losing control of myself.

She smoothly moved her head forward, her soft, delicious lips ever so slightly brushing against my ear as she whispers in the most seductive of tones.

"Does it feel good baby?"

"I...I....I..." I stuttered back, not being able to speak.

Closing my eyes and feeling Agatha’s warm breath on my ear makes my legs feel like jelly. I can already tell that my warmth is absolutely soaked.

Her hands explored my back and found their way to my bra strap.

"Cat got your tongue?" She whispers into my ear, her tongue slightly leaving her mouth and licking my ear lobe.

I gasped out loud.

My bra strap was unhooked. Pulling her head back, Agatha’s face was filled with joy as she kept a hold of the bra and pulled it back and off my body.

My body, no longer fighting any of Agatha's advancements allowing her to remove my bra, now sitting with my breasts on show.

With a slow movement, Agatha cups my right breast. Slowly playing with it, she flicks her thumb over the nipple over and over.

"Ooohh." I accidentally moan, my legs feeling weak beneath me.

"Do you like that?" Agatha whispers.

"Y-yes," I whispered back.

She continued to play with my nipple in her hand, knowing that I will soon be too far gone to turn back.

"What about this?"

My eyes were wide open in shock and a gasp escaped my lips as Agatha swiftly laid me on my back on the sofa while she hovered over my flushed body. She didn't waste any time and moved her head forward, her soft, plump lips landing around my nipple. Her wet tongue comes out and flicks it, running around in small circles.

I can't stop myself from letting out soft moans, my nipples have always been my weak point. As I looked down at Agatha’s soft dark hair, feeling her tongue playing with my nipple my legs begin to squirm.

She sucks on my nipple and nibbles down on it with her teeth.

"Oooohh." I moaned louder.

"Aggie, this is wrong." I panted out weakly.

"Yet, here we are," Agatha says, giving one last lick before pulling her mouth away. Keeping her hand on my breast, I feel like she had me lying here forever. "Why are you fighting this?" She asks.

Her hand pulls away from my breast. Just when I thought it might be over, Agatha’s hand returns softly to my pants-covered thigh. Instinctively, I slightly opened it and allowed my best friend's hand to run between them, ever so slowly getting closer and closer to my center.

Finally reaching it, she popped off the button and inserted her hand inside my pants, gave my warmth a slow rub from outside my underwear, and whispered.

"Why are you so wet?"

"I.... don't know." I tried to think of an answer but my mind is somewhere else.

"Hmmm… I think you do know. It's because you want this… need this…" Agatha pushed my underwear to one side; she easily slid one finger knuckle deep inside of my drenched warmth.

"Oooohhh." I moaned, biting down on my lip.

"Am I right, baby?." Agatha whispers, arching her finger inside my warmth, rubbing against my G-spot.

"Ooooh god." I moaned louder, closing my eyes and allowing myself to be fingered right here in my best friend's living room.

My head is a mess, the pure pleasure coming from Agatha's finger just increases when she easily pushes a second finger inside and perfectly hits my G-spot.

"Answer me, Y/N," Agatha demanded.

"Yyyyeesss." I moaned out in pure ecstasy.

"Yes, what?" She asks with a smile, knowing she had me where she wanted me.

"Yes, I want it," I said firmly, opening my eyes and staring at her beautiful face.

This spurred her to increase the pace of her fingering.

"Yes!" I moaned over and over, my G-spot getting hit by her amazing fingers.

"Good," Agatha says firmly and pulls her fingers out of my warmth, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

I know I should stop this, deep down I know this is wrong and that this can only end badly. But right now, I was no longer thinking with reason.

"Okay," I whispered.

She grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom.

Finally, in the room, she shuts the door before sitting on the bed.

"Take off your underwear," Agatha commanded.

Not speaking, I bent over and pushed my underwear off. Now standing completely naked, by choice, in front of my best friend.

"Come sit next to me."

Sitting down, we stared at each other. For a moment, thinking of what is about to happen made my body almost shaking with excitement.

Agatha’s hand appeared on my thigh and once again instinctively I opened them. Her fingertip moves to my swollen clit.

"Oh god..." I gasped. Looking her dead in the eyes as she slowly massages my clit, sending so much pleasure throughout my body.

As my breathing gets heavier and heavier, my legs begin to twitch from every flick of Agatha's finger.

Not being able to control myself any longer, I moved my head forward and captured Agatha's lips with mine. Savoring her cherry-flavored chapstick.

As our kiss deepens, her fingers move faster on my clit making my legs twitch from pleasure.

My hand started to explore Agatha's body, caressing with such gentleness and sensuality. Landing my hand on her thigh, I gripped it tightly as I could feel myself nearing my release but before it reached that point, Agatha suddenly pulled her hand away from my aching warmth, making me whine in frustration.

Stopping the kiss, I stared at her in confusion. But before I could say anything she placed her fingers on my mouth and pushed it in, making me taste my arousal. It was divine…

With the combination of alcohol and pure lust burning through my system, I began to suck on her fingers as if they were a lolly whilst staring into her eyes, making her groan in approval.

The moment my mouth left her fingers, Agatha stood up and undressed with such speed I could barely process how she did it, but here she is now completely bare for me to see and worship.

I was still sitting on the edge of the bed when Agatha gently straddled me, our naked chests deliciously pressing against each other.

She grabbed my head and held it just inches away from hers, staring at each other's eyes.

"Touch me," She ordered.

Not having to be told twice, my hand goes to her smooth warmth which is just as wet as her own. With ease, I pushed my index finger inside and started to rub it against Agatha's G-spot.

"Ohhh yes!" She moans loudly. She looks down at herself fingering me whilst I fingered her. Looking back up we moaned in unison.

"Oh fuck yes!" Agatha moans out, pushing in to kiss me hard as the two of us finger each other.

This continues for a few minutes, each of our moans growing louder and louder.

"Lie down on your back baby," Agatha instructed as she pulled away from me. I was so close to my release but didn't mind it one bit for I was more than excited about what was to come next.

Lying down flat, I watched as she parted my legs and began kissing slowly up to the insides of my thighs.

She went closer and closer to my warmth until it was staring directly at her.

I turned red as a tomato as I saw how Agatha looked at my warmth, she was looking at it as if she wanted to devour it.

"Beautiful," she whispered and slowly moved forward.

Her tongue pushed inside of me and tasted my nectar. With her eyes closed, she explored my warmth. I can feel her running her tongue up and down my soft lips. In and out of my hole before finally reaching my throbbing clit.

"Mmmmm yes!" I moaned when Agatha's tongue first flicked my clit.

The way she was looking at me right now made everything so much hotter, and with it, a moan left my lips.

Agatha moaned back before getting her tongue back onto my sensitive clit.

"Don't stop,”

I slowly started to grind my warmth back and forth on Agatha's eager tongue.

My legs were spread wide, accepting the finger fucking in my warmth as the sound of my juices filled the room.

"Mmmmmm! A-aggie… I'm close.”

"You want to cum all over my face, baby? You want to cum on your best friend's face?" Agatha moaned but didn't even give me a chance to reply when her hands gripped my thigh firmly and in one quick motion slid her fingers knuckle deep into my tight, dripping warmth.

"AGATHAA!!!" I screamed out in pure pleasure and arched my back as my warmth flooded over Agatha's face. An earth-shattering orgasm wrecked my body over and over again.

As my body carries on shaking as my orgasm slowly dies down, Agatha, still hooked on my delicious warmth, carries on licking me, lapping up every drop of cum as she can while continuously she fingers my overstimulated warmth.

"Agatha, stop." I panted out, feeling too sensitive after cumming.

"Just one more, baby. Give me one more." She coos, with her words I screamed as my second orgasm was ripped from me. This time squirting all over my best friend's face and soaking the silk sheets that she shares with her wife. The taste of my sweet release on her tongue, and the magnificent sight of me squirting was too much for Agatha, making her cum hard with a primal moan.

After cleaning my warmth with her tongue she sits to the side and just stares at me with a beautiful smile on her face, looking quite proud of herself. I can see my juice dripping from her chin and some still glossing her lips which she seductively licks with her tongue, while her eyes are devouring mine.

What a sight…

She starts to slide her fingers around my lips. The fingers that were just in my warmth.

"Mmmm." I moaned as I happily took them into my mouth before her fingers were replaced with her soft lips.

Our lips parted before staring deeply into each other's eyes. All I could see in her eyes was pure admiration, desire, and…love?

"You're mine now, sweet thing, and I will not let anyone come in between us… never again." She whispered before gathering me into her arms with my head resting on her chest.

Her words ring inside my head, but I find myself loving the idea of being with Agatha, not quite processing the last part of her declaration which I gladly dismissed. All I can think about is that she wants me to be hers, and that made me feel like the whole damn zoo was having a party inside my tummy.

"Yours" I softly whispered with a bright smile on my face.

For a few minutes, we just both laid there basking in each other's warmth in silence. The smell and taste of my release filled our senses, and the room itself. It was the last thing my mind processed before letting sleep take me into the arms of my new lover.

_=_=_

It was a little before 11 pm when I pulled into the garage of my mansion, a mansion I share with my cheating husband. Thinking about it should've still made me feel bad, but that wasn't the case anymore. Because all I can ever think about the moment I left Agatha's home was her touches, kisses, and sweet words that she constantly whispered in my ears.

I came in the door a bit tired from the earlier activities but with a glowing smile still etched on my face. I set my bag and jacket on the kitchen table before I saw Greg eagerly enter the living room and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. "Wow, honey, you...you look glowing."

I just smiled a wicked little before answering in a slightly snarky tone. "Oh, thanks, honey."

If only you knew how I got this glow…

"Where have you been? I've been calling your phone non-stop but you weren't answering. I was so worried." Greg said, his voice raw with worry.

Getting fucked by my best friend in a much better way than you'd ever could… no biggie. I wish I could say these words out loud but I did my best to refrain from doing so, instead, I went into acting mode.

"Oh, I'm so sorry hon. I forgot my phone in my car. I was with Agatha the whole time, and well, we got busy…so busy that the time completely slipped my mind." I explained with my most convincing voice.

You cheating bastard don't deserve a single damn explanation from me, but I'll play your game, Greg… just for the kick of it.

"Well, I'm just glad you're home safe and sound. By the way, I have a surprise for you. I know I've been really busy lately, but I want to make it up to you tomorrow night."

"Oh, that's nice," I answered, not overly excited but still kept on indulging him.

"And to celebrate the anniversary of our marriage, maybe even a bigger surprise for you. I learned to dance." Greg happily announced, I on the other hand am confused as hell.

Shit, I didn't even realize the date for tomorrow is our anniversary. At that moment, Greg stepped toward me, pulled me in, and waltzed with me a few steps. While we danced, he said, "I have been taking lessons twice a week. I know I am no expert dancer, but I wanted to do this for you. I even have reservations for us."

I continued moving with Greg, my eyes wide and in shock as my mind started to spin. I suddenly stopped and just stood there. All I could think was 'this can't be. There is no way it was just dancing. He was cheating on me. He had to be cheating on me.' I had tears streaming down my face as I thought of what I had done earlier.

"Honey, I also took the liberty of buying the dress you saw last week when we went to the mall. I know it's a big surprise but we have all night to dance the night away." I was in shock as I continued to stare at him. And all I could ask is, "How?"

"Well, it wasn't easy. About two months ago, I was talking with Agatha, and I was saying how I wanted to do something big like learn to dance. She said she knew someone who offers dance lessons. So, for a week during lunch, we would work on a few basics in my office. Then, we progressed to going out dancing every Tuesday and Thursday at Hades Den, the dance studio. I invited my dance instructor and her fiancé to join us. I thought I owed them a nice night out after how helpful they have been. I'm so glad Agatha managed to keep it from you, I made her swear not to, so the surprise won't be spoiled. I was quite shocked since we both know she can't even keep a secret." Greg chuckled.

Hearing Agatha's name was enough to snap me out of my trance, "A-agtha knew?"

"Oh, she more than knew. She knows all about the entire plan. Sometimes she'd go to Hades den to make sure I'm progressing. Your best friend really wants the best for you, she's a gem. You're so lucky to have her in your life, in our life."

My mind started racing, and my breathing was getting shallower with every second that passed by. Greg saw this and immediately ran to my bag and grabbed my inhaler.

No… no… this can't be true…this can't be true. It doesn't make any sense… why would Agatha keep this… Agatha lied… she lied… and then she seduced me… we fucked… Greg never cheated… Agatha knew… we fucked… Greg didn't cheat… But I did… I cheated… I'm the cheater and not Greg… I cheated…

My mind was in jumbles as Greg placed the inhaler on my lips asking me to open my mouth… but I don't think I want to… I wanna drown in this asthma and just die on the spot.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as the feeling of guilt and betrayal started to eat me whole. My husband's worried voice feels like a faraway echo, as my mind is consumed by one question.

Agatha… What did you make me do?

_=_=_

Please don’t forget to like, repost, comment, and follow!! It helps boost motivation, lol.

[soulofapatrick]

We Are Everything - Rhysand x female reader

Summary: Rhys gets jealous of how close you are with Cassian and Azriel 

Words: 2.7K 

Warnings: None really

Y/N's POV

Every inch of me is on fire as Azriel and I land in the House of Wind, a dull ache spreading through my muscles from a day that’s been nothing short of brutal. Today, for the first time, I manifested Illyrian wings—the heavy, powerful weight of them still unfamiliar against my back. Each beat had been a struggle, the strain leaving me barely able to stand now. My body hums with fatigue, my bones echoing with the effort it took to stay aloft.

Azriel’s hand remains firm around my arm, guiding me as we step into the living room. I’m barely aware of who’s present, only that the comforting warmth of home surrounds me—until I hear a soft scoff.

I lift my head and catch Nesta’s narrowed gaze flicking over me, her lips curled in the faintest sneer. Her eyes linger on my trousers, the mud-streaked leather, the sweat still clinging to my skin. There's a flash of disdain that I know all too well; she doesn’t even need to say it for her message to be clear. A woman should be in dresses, not leather, and definitely not training.

But after the day I’ve had, I can’t bring myself to care. Not even Nesta’s sharp look can touch the quiet pride pulsing in my chest, the satisfaction of the wings still heavy against my back.

Nesta’s sneer sharpens as I meet her gaze, her mouth twisting just a bit more. “I suppose now you think you’re an Illyrian warrior,” she says, voice dripping with that familiar disdain. “I hope you don’t expect us all to start dressing like… that.”

I’m too tired to even form a response, so instead, I lift a hand and flip her the bird without breaking stride. I hear a scoff and what might be a muttered insult, but I’m already focused on my destination: the couch, where Cassian is stretched out, watching with one raised brow and a smirk playing on his lips.

With legs shaking and every muscle burning, I stumble forward, letting myself collapse right onto the couch beside him. A pained groan slips from my lips as I finally let my body go slack, my head falling onto Cassian’s strong, solid thighs like a pillow carved from pure muscle.

Cassian’s smirk softens into something warmer, and without a word, his hand moves to my hair, his fingers gently working through the strands. The slow, soothing strokes seem to untangle more than just my hair, easing away the worst of the day’s strain. I close my eyes, letting out a contented sigh as I feel the stress of training begin to melt away under his touch.

At the other end of the couch, I feel a soft pressure at my feet. Cracking one eye open, I find Azriel crouched by my boots, unlacing them with a care and gentleness that almost surprises me. His touch is reverent, his shadows coiling protectively around him as he works. He glances up, his gaze meeting mine for just a moment, and there’s a flicker of warmth there—softer than his usual stoicism, an almost brotherly affection that makes my heart ache in a different way.

Between Cassian’s gentle touch in my hair and Azriel’s careful hands unlacing my boots, I feel myself drifting, the weight of exhaustion pulling me under.

The fatigue in my body is overwhelming, but Cassian’s touch is a balm, gentle and soothing. His fingers comb through my hair with a rhythm that almost lulls me to sleep, and Azriel’s presence at my feet grounds me in a way that lets me fully surrender to the moment. The ache in my bones is nearly forgotten under the weight of their care, but then, something else tugs at my chest—a pull that is different, sharper, than the weariness I’ve felt all day.

It’s not physical, but it aches all the same. My heart stirs, and my eyes flutter open in confusion. There, standing in the doorway, is Rhysand. His dark wings are tightly folded, his posture rigid, his expression taut with something I can’t quite place. His eyes find me instantly, pinning me in place, and that ache in my chest grows stronger. It’s a subtle thing, an invisible thread pulling me toward him.

Cassian’s fingers stop mid-stroke in my hair, his hand freezing when he catches the tension in the air. I can feel it, too. The room feels suddenly charged, the air heavy with unspoken words. Rhysand’s jaw tightens, and he lets out a low sound—almost a growl—as his gaze flicks from Cassian’s hand in my hair to my face, his eyes darkening in a way that sends a ripple of heat through me.

“Cassian,” Rhysand’s voice is a dangerous whisper, rough with barely restrained control. “Stop touching her.”

The words hit me like a shock to my system, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Cassian’s hand stirs in my hair one last time before pulling away, his fingers trembling slightly as if reluctant to let go. The sudden absence of his touch makes my skin burn for a moment, and I fight the instinct to reach for him, to beg him not to stop.

I’m too tired to care about the tension, too exhausted to hold back the words that tumble from my mouth. “Go away, Rhysand,” I murmur, my voice thick with sleep and a quiet defiance. “I’m tired, and I’m comfy. Let me be.”

There’s a sharpness in Rhysand’s eyes, something deep and possessive that makes my pulse quicken. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak for a long beat. Even Nesta, who usually doesn’t hide her distaste, falls silent, her sneer melting into something unreadable as she watches. Feyre, tucked behind her book, raises a brow but doesn’t look up from the pages, the quiet understanding in her gaze making me wonder if she’s seen this before.

I feel the tension crackle between us, thick enough to make the room feel smaller, the air too heavy to breathe easily. Rhysand doesn’t leave, but neither does he approach, his eyes still fixed on me with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver up my spine.

Cassian, on the other hand, remains still, his hand resting just inches from my hair, his touch gone but the heat of it lingering. His fingers twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to return to their soothing rhythm, but he stays where he is, a silent promise in the way his eyes meet mine. The unspoken connection between us is undeniable.

But Rhysand, still standing in the doorway, seems to fill the entire space with a tension that’s almost suffocating. I want to resist the pull in my chest, want to ignore the way he makes everything inside me tighten, but I’m too tired. And right now, all I want is to rest in the warmth of the moment, to let the world fade away around me.

With a soft sigh, I close my eyes again, refusing to acknowledge the storm brewing in the room. “Go away, Rhysand,” I whisper once more, this time my words gentler, though my resolve is still firm.

I’m too comfortable here. Too safe. Too-

Rhysand’s eyes flash, the storm within him no longer hidden. Without a word, he crosses the room in two large strides, his presence towering and undeniable. Before I can even register what’s happening, his arms are around me, lifting me off the couch in one fluid motion.

The sudden shift in position, the abruptness of his actions, has me gasping in pain. My body protests, every muscle aching from the day’s training, the weight of my wings still unfamiliar. The sharp tug in my chest grows, but it’s not just the ache from my wings anymore—this pain is raw, burning through me, made worse by his hurriedness.

I cry out, the sound torn from my throat before I can control it.

Rhys’s expression falters for a split second, his eyes darkening as if the pain I’ve felt only deepens his own anger. But there’s no pause. No apology. He holds me tighter, his jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscles twitch under his skin. His chest heaves with every breath, but the world around us seems to shrink with the intensity of the moment.

Without warning, the air ripples with the unmistakable feeling of his magic, and I’m yanked away from the House of Wind. The world blurs, the room fading into nothingness before I even have a chance to react.

We’re somewhere else—far from the House of Wind. The air is colder, crisper, and the scent of pine fills my senses. My eyes snap open to find myself in a cozy cabin nestled in the mountains, the dim light from a crackling fire casting soft shadows across the room.

Rhysand doesn’t put me down immediately. His grip on me is firm, possessive, and though his anger hasn’t subsided, there’s something more in his gaze now. Something… unreadable. He’s still holding me against his chest, his heart beating wildly under my ear as I try to steady my breath.

I’m still cradled in his arms, my body weak and aching, and yet, with his warmth enveloping me, I can’t help but feel a strange comfort. The pain from the abrupt winnowing is still there, but it’s swallowed by the closeness of his presence, by the way he holds me so tightly, almost as if he’s afraid to let go.

His voice comes low, rough, and edged with frustration. “What the hell were you thinking, pushing yourself like that?”

Rhysand’s gaze softens, just for a moment, and then he’s moving, cradling me against his chest as he strides toward the bedroom. Every step is measured, careful, as though he’s afraid any jostling might worsen the ache in my body. When he lays me down on the bed, I feel a tenderness in his touch, a gentleness that makes my heart twist painfully.

For a brief, fragile moment, I think I might cry. There’s something in his eyes—a rare vulnerability, a glimmer of guilt and protectiveness so intense it makes my throat tighten. I’m too tired, too sore, to unravel the depth of it, but the ache that had been nagging in my chest spreads, a tender warmth and longing all at once.

Without a word, Rhys turns toward the en-suite, the sound of water filling the silence as he begins to run a bath. My body throbs with the lingering pain of the winnowing, muscles still tensed from the sudden shift. Yet, as I watch him turn away, that ache only deepens, twisting through me, begging him not to leave my side.

Almost on instinct, my hand reaches out, finding his fingers just as he starts to pull away. I can barely speak, my voice a hushed whisper. “Don’t… don’t go.” My fingers tighten around his, not caring about pride or pretence in this moment—just the desperate need for his warmth, his steadiness, here with me.

Rhysand stops, his back still turned to me, but I feel his hand squeeze mine, firm and reassuring. Slowly, he turns back, his expression melting from tense determination into something softer, something full of unspoken promises. His thumb brushes across my knuckles as he kneels down beside the bed, his gaze meeting mine.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering, his expression unreadable for a beat, but his hand tightens around mine, his thumb still tracing slow circles on my skin. He lets me pull him onto the bed beside me, his weight dipping the mattress just enough that I can feel the warmth of him, smell the faint, familiar scent of night-blooming jasmine and sea salt, something uniquely Rhysand that fills the air and makes my head spin.

He’s so close now, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip. The firelight flickers, casting a warm glow across his sharp features, softening the fierce determination in his gaze. My breath catches as I study him, and I can feel the unspoken words that seem to hover between us, thickening the air.

The air between us pulses with an ache, heavy and electric, and I can barely breathe under the weight of it. Tugging him closer, I pull Rhys to me until his face is so close I can feel the whisper of his breath against my lips. His dark gaze flickers over my face, full of need, tenderness, and something fierce that makes my heart stammer.

“Is this what I think it is?” I breathe, my voice a trembling thread. My fingers brush the line of his jaw, feeling his muscles clench beneath my touch. He stares at me like I’m the only thing in existence, his eyes wild and searching, his body still but tense, as if he’s holding back a torrent of feeling.

His lips part slightly, a faint, shaky exhale escaping. “And what do you think it is?” His voice is rough, his words both a challenge and an invitation.

My heart pounds, my throat tight with the overwhelming truth of it all. I hold his gaze, each beat of silence heavy with meaning, before I finally say, “You’re my mate.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, his expression crumbles—relief, joy, and something almost like disbelief flashing across his face, only to be replaced by a fierce, desperate devotion. His hands come up to cradle my face, his thumb grazing my cheek as if afraid I’ll vanish. He leans in, his gaze soft yet blazing with unspoken words, with promises and feelings he’s held back for far too long.

“Say it again,” he whispers, his voice trembling, thick with emotion. His eyes are locked on mine, as if needing to burn the moment into his memory, to let the words settle into his very bones.

“You’re my mate, Rhys,” I say, barely more than a breath, but I pour every ounce of feeling into it. It’s the truth, raw and undeniable.

And before I can take another breath, he closes the gap, his lips crashing onto mine, and the world falls away. His kiss is desperate, searing, full of longing that has simmered for what feels like a lifetime. He kisses me as if he’s starved for it, as if I’m the only thing that can soothe the ache inside him, and the intensity of it ignites something deep within me, spreading like wildfire.

His hands tangle in my hair, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulls me closer, holding me like he’s afraid to let go. Each touch, each press of his lips, is fierce, claiming, yet achingly tender. His kiss is everything—demanding, gentle, passionate—and I feel myself melting into him, my body surrendering to the rhythm of his, every fibre of me aligning with him.

His lips leave mine just long enough for us to gasp for breath, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re dark with longing, with love, his forehead resting against mine as if he’s grounding himself in me.

“I’ve wanted this—needed this—for so long,” he murmurs, his voice rough and unsteady, his hands framing my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones.

“Then don’t let go,” I whisper, voice trembling with emotion.

His gaze softens, but the desperation remains, and he kisses me again, deeper this time, with a kind of reverence that makes my heart ache. It’s as if he’s pouring his very soul into me, as if his love, his devotion, is something he can no longer contain. His arms wrap around me, pulling me impossibly close, our bodies aligning, the world outside forgotten.

In this moment, we are everything.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222

[himbodruid]

Tethered Stars

Sylus PoV

A lifetime of memories could never prepare me for the moment I found her again; so different from what I once knew, but somehow still the same after all this time. When she turns her smile to me, I am left breathless, speechless, and want nothing more than to bask in her unending glory. With nothing more than a glance, she cleaves me in two- more wholly undone than that claymore could ever dare.

Beautiful. Devastating. Mesmerizing. There are so many words I could use to describe her, and yet none of them could ever hold a candle to the radiant brilliance of her. Of her soul. In her eyes, I’ve glimpsed eternity and ruin, salvation and surrender. Like a storm on my skin, her touch is raw and electric, searing through every inch of me.

Even the missteps of our reunion could never overshadow the way her presence ripples through my very being. I will always hold a quiet regret for the way I approached her in this life, for the way I sought too eagerly to connect with her resonance when she was wary of me. An oversight on my part- the elation at finding her again making me forget that, despite the way her soul sang to mine, this iteration of her saw me as a stranger, as the arch-nemesis we once were.

But, oh, I am so utterly and irrevocably in love with her. Bound to her in a way that deepens with every breath, with every beat of my heart, with every shift of my soul. More than when she took my hand in that arena and fought with unwavering courage and loyalty at my side. More than the night we fled, leaving behind a world forged in cruelty and blood.

And now, when she stands beside me in this world, defiant against its dangers, I can feel it again. That thrill rushing through my veins, roaring to life like a wildfire unleashed- fierce, unstoppable, untamed. This is where I belong: at her side, facing whatever perils this existence throws at us together. She is the inferno that fuels me and the storm that breaks me. Everything that binds me, everything that destroys me. To love her is to carry something so beautiful it aches, a spark that ignites and flourishes with every fleeting moment. She is my every waking thought, every dream when I sleep, every breath I take.

She is a vast cosmos, and I am nothing but a mere speck in her incandescence. I will fall to my knees before her brilliance in every lifetime, worshipping her in every way I know how. I am intoxicated by her very being, drawn to her soul like a moth to a flame. I would die countless deaths for her, yet it still wouldn’t be enough to capture the depths of my devotion. I would travel to the ends of the universe and back a thousand times over; if only to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to absorb myself in the sweet blooming scent of her soul. She is the warmth of the sun after a millennia in darkness. The richest, finest wine. Oh, how I long for her, like the soil yearns for the rain.

And I would destroy everything for her.

Even myself. Especially myself.

[bloodlust-1]

You’re too sweet for me ₊ ⊹ part 2

Halsin x fem Tav (dark urge) — Explicit 18+

Summary: Tav takes a dip in the river to calm those pesty dark thoughts, hoping it'd help settle these murderous urges. But things turn interesting when Halsin finds her, offering to keep her company in the water. If only he knew just how pure he was in her eyes, a shame it'd be to destroy such an image.

TW: SMUT!

Note: Enjoy sinners.

-> Part 1 <-

AO3

Lovely photo by @moonslittlestar

He leaned in, pressing tender kisses along Tav’s neck, feeling the litter of goosebumps under his lips. His tongue traced delicate patterns along the sensitive veins of her skin, sending waves of pleasure through her body. Tav closed her eyes and surrendered to the tingly sensation of his lips.

Halsin nipped at Tav’s skin, his teeth enticingly grazing her nape. With each touch, he left behind a trail of gentle marks that faded darker into hickeys on her collarbones.

The warmth of his saliva felt like firey lava on her skin. Tav's breath hitched in response to every touch, bite, and suck.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, arching into his touch. Her teeth caught her lower lip, releasing soft sighs that mingled in the air. In a husky breath, Halsin groaned into her skin.

He was enjoying himself in her body. Like a follower worshipping their god.

The heat built heavily into the air, and then, a small gasp. Halsin had found Tav's nipple between the grit of his teeth. Nibbling on the bud with a rough gentleness.

It hurt too good, and she was not surprised that Halsin was delivering so well.

“You’re better than I thought.” She complimented breathily.

With a pop noise, Halsin released her nipple, “I was afraid to hurt you…" He bites down at the plush of her breast roughly, leaving behind a purple bruise, "I could have tried to be gentle, but I don't think you're interested in such softness."

Okay, now she was intrigued by his words. Tav pulled him in for another tender yet passionate kiss. It was full of teeth and tongue with the occasional lip tug.

Halsin responded quickly, lowering her body closer to his as their kiss deepened. Her fingers traced patterns on his scalp and shoulders, eliciting soft groans with a hint of pain from him.

"Take me out of this water before I change my mind." Tav roughly bit down on his earlobe, whispering dominantly into his ear.

Halsin held Tav close in his arms, pushing past the river's waves. Tav’s heart raced as she felt the strength of his embrace, her breath quickening with anticipation. He occasionally bit down at her neck, sucking until it bruised under his tongue.

When they reached the shore, Halsin laid Tav down on the soft sand, their bodies glistening with droplets of water. Their lips met again, roughly ravaging each other while Halsin's hands kneaded Tav's breasts between his fingers.

Tav’s nails traced red lines into Halsin’s back, and a mixture of pleasure and pain danced off his tongue. It wasn't anything he couldn't take.

Their kisses were passionate and intense, until her palms met Halsin's chest, and pushed him with a gentle but firm tug away from the kiss.

He hovered over her with fast breaths, confused.

Tav spoke threw each ragged breath, "Lay back."

Halsin obeys her wishes, laying his back against the soft sand. With the softest touch, Tav climbed up his body, slowly, teasingly. She burned kisses into his chest, neck, and cheekbones while positioning herself perfectly to sit upon his face.

The eyes of a hunter stare down at its prey. This hunk of an elf was no match for Tav's uncanny attitude and desires. Although, this was new for him, exciting.

With watering lips, Halsin peered up at Tav. From his pov, her wet hair hung over her face, her chest dripping with water off her breasts, and then - the pheromones of the juiciest fruit nature could offer.

He wetted his lips and waited for her command.

Tav rolled her eyes light-heartedly, "Must I give you permission for everything? Do you not know how to eat when people put food in front of your face?"

"Of course I do. I don't need an introduction for such a treat. I'll enjoy this more than you." Promise lingered in his words.

And it brought a smile to her face.

His tongue teased the outside of her folds, tasting the sweet tinge on his tongue. Tav pushed her hips closer to his mouth, practically smothering him between her thighs.

Nails dug into her hips as Halsin held onto them, forcing her even closer than before. This caused her clit to be smothered perfectly against his mouth. And his tongue didn't take long to find it.

Halsin's tongue flickers and circles eagerly on her clit, rewarding him with the sweetest moans. It'd been the nicest thing he's heard Tav speak this entire night.

Her hips rocked against his face and his cheeks had flushed a deep red shade. The blood boiled in his face and his eyes squinted tightly when the sharpness of Tav's nails dug into his scalp.

Her moans were rapid and sloppy, constantly gasping between Halsin's licks. She loved the way his face looked buried between the plush of her thighs. It fit him quite nicely.

Tav's hips swayed and Halsin's hands directed her riding his face, pulling and pushing the rock of her hips.

Tav tangled her fingers between the braids of his hair and went stiff, "F-Fuck.." Her words trembled and Halsin knew she was coming close, "Don't..Nghh - M-Move.."

Halsin fluttered his eyelashes up at her and nodded his head 'yes' continuously. His groans between her folds vibrated against her clit, making Tav throw her head back with whimpers.

Tav wanted so badly to stain his face with something more than just those tattoos.

A yelp ripped out of her lungs and she trembled and twitched under Halsin's hold, coming undone into his mouth. She could feel the warmth of his tongue dancing on her core, licking up the cum.

Tav hunched over, her palms firmly on the ground between his head, horasly catching her breath.

"You taste absolutely lovely." Halsin pops his mouth off her core, licking the corners of his mouth. His chin was covered with his spit, juices, and white slick.

Something clicked in Halsin. If he continued to let her bully him into pleasure, she'd never look at him as an equal. Only someone who can take instruction very well, not that he minded.

The time was now.

In her moment of vulnerability, Halsin grabbed Tav by her hips, lifted her back onto the sand with a soft, thud. She gasped, quickly clutching onto his shoulders before Halsin wrapped his large hand around her neck.

He squeezes lightly, pulling her up to meet his lips, but he doesn't kiss her. instead, he spoke with a deadly tone she'd never heard before, "I'm going to fuck you until every living creature knows my name."

Tav's eyes went wide and she opened her mouth, only a whimper coming out.

"Shh..There now, my heart...The only thing I want to hear is my name cry out your lips." He squeezed her throat, forcing her chin up before crashing a searing kiss on her lips.

"Now - be a good girl for me."

Tav's eyes darted down, eyeing the hardened length between his legs. And gods, was it absolutely huge. Her mouth watered at the thought of even fitting that deep in her.

"Impress me, druid." Her eyes challenged Halsin with a cheeky smirk.

Oh she was so close, if only that pretty mouth didn’t sour it.

Halsin put his hands on her knees, spreading her legs slowly apart and watching the folds of her core expose to the cool air.

Hooded eyes bore down on Tav like a peace offering. Her body folded in every way perfectly, with curves as smooth as a petal. Halsin leaned over and pressed kisses into her stomach, looking up at her as he did.

“You’re beautiful.” He mummered between kisses, suddenly planting a kiss on her core.

“M-mmmh…” She squirmed slightly, arching her back up in an attempt to follow his fleeting kisses.

Halsin's knees dug into the sand while his hand dipped into Tav's core, collecting the excess juices she provided, leaving his fingers coated in slick.

He then used that to coat his cock with his already pre-cummed tip. Slowly pumping his fist a couple times to wet his shaft.

Tav looked down at him with glistening eyes. Just how far could she fit him before it started to hurt?

The veins on his hardened length bulged out and begged to be buried deep in Tav. The invisible string pulled them closer and closer until his tip eagerly rested perfectly on her entrance.

Tav locked eye with him, not a single stammer in her words.

"Fuck me."

A sly smile crossed both their features.

His hips slowly fed inch by inch into her wet core. She took him well, except for the stretching pain more than halfway down his length. Tav dug her fingers into the sand with gritted teeth.

"Look at you." His fingers tickled her legs in small strokes, "Taking me in so well."

"Ahh...You're so big." Tav squirmed and adjusted her hips closely into his, causing a deep chuckle to rattle Halsin's lips.

"Hah - I know, love." He hunched over her body and positioned himself comfortably between her legs.

A kiss was placed softly on her lips and it eased her of the slight discomfort, "You're doing good, relax and it'll feel much better." He whispered between gentle kisses.

She let out a breathy exhale and tried to relax her lower body, opening her legs wider which earned her praise.

"Very good girl."

Tav's eyes darted at him to such praise and her face turned a dark shade of red.

"Hmm...Is that what you wanted to hear after being so bratty?"

Tav averted her eyes and went silent, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him closer, deeper into her.

Halsin smiled softly, knowing already what the answer was. He began to jerk his hips in and out, skillfully, passionately, and possessively.

Their foreheads connected, breathing heavily amongst each other's lips. Tav's walls clenched and twitched around his girth, letting herself go in a plethora of moans and whimpers.

The bed of stars with Halsin hovering right above, it was the perfect POV. Not to mention the tingly sensation that tickled between her legs up her back.

Tav hungrily searched for his lips between the constant thrusts, causing her to bob like the river waves onto the shore.

Their teeth clashed in a fight for dominance, both moans mingling heavily between sloppy kisses. He reached to cup her ass, kneading and groping the plush while fucking harder and deeper.

His harsh thrusts buried himself deep in Tav's warm walls. The sounds of whimpers and smacking skin mixed with nature's atmosphere.

Tav dug her nails into his back, causing his blood to clot under her nails.

“Nnghh - fuck.” Halsin keened in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving his mouth uncontrollably.

Tav smiled in satisfaction, the little evil thoughts in her head giggled at his every wince and whimper.

This smile didn't last too long, because Halsin suddenly shoved two fingers into her mouth, bullying his way inside her throat until she gagged and moaned around them.

His fingers rested in the sweet spot of her throat, making Tav's eyes gloss up so prettily.

Drool slicked down the side of her cheeks as her mouth hung open with hazy torn eyes. The tears streamed down her wet cheeks, and it was Halsin's direst imagination coming true.

And yet, even with gagged fingers in Tav's mouth, split apart on his cock, she still was shameless enough to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers and challenging eyes. “I want it more.”

His tone is teasing, but there's an undercurrent of seriousness that sounded so sweet in his voice, "You want it deeper, don't you? You want me to fill your cunt."

With strong arms, Halsin scooped Tav body on his lap, as he laid back and let go of her body completely. She sat perfectly on his length, twitching and trembling, gravity pulled her deeper until she was balls deep.

Tav mewled for a moment, her hands planted firmly on his broad chest. But Halsin jerked up into her just once, playfully edging her on, "Go on - show me just how much you want it."

Taking initiative, Tav dug her feet into the sand, arching her back. Her hands fell flat on his chest, knowing this would take a lot of her energy.

She leaned into her arms and began to bounce up and down on Halsin, groaning against the sweet bliss of him slipping in and out of her.

Their skin smacked against each other, and Halsin watched in complete awe as Tav's body crashed against his, her breaths and every plush of her body bouncing to her plunges.

Tav practically moaned out her lungs, fucking his cock until her knees burned and her body crumbled. But Halsin quickly grabbed a handful of her hips, using his strength to help her continue bouncing.

Their stomachs knotted into a ball of pleasure, sending tingles up their spine that dared to send them over the edge. Tav stared down at Halsin, noticing the flicker of yellow magic in his eyes with ever twitch she felt deep in her womb.

Slamming down, up, and down, Tav fucked him at a merciless pace. Loving every bit of attention he gave to her, pleasuring him.

Tav moaned out his name, knowing it would be music to Halsin's ears.

Purposely, Tav clenched her walls around him, pulling him over the edge with a yelp from their climax as both their juices spilled into each other. While Tav still bounced, the sound of juices swashed and sloppily dripped down Halsin's hips.

"Fuck - Tav..!" He breathlessly clutched tightly on her hips, forcing her into place.

She melted down onto his chest and met the swell of his lips, tongue exploring his moist mouth. She devoured his lips and lavishly kissed him with such passion.

Tav knew Halsin would forever be at her mercy, always remembering this moment when he lays lonely at night.

And there were soo many days to come.

She expects to see him more often, sauntering over after the sun goes down.

Tav traced small circles into his chest, feeling his heavy beating heart under her own, "I think we need another bath, huh? What do you say?"

There were hearts practically in his eyes. "Y-Yes...Just...I need a moment to catch my breath and I will carry you there, my heart."

A smile spread across her face, a look of trouble in her eyes, "That's what I like to hear."

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!