#that was denied to her by the ruthlessness of chance

[cinematicnomad]

I googled We Keep the Dead Close a little and was intrigued! Can you tell me what you liked about it?

oh yey!! i'm always happy to rave about a book i've enjoyed, so i can totally share my thoughts with you :)

we keep the dead close: a murder at harvard and a half century of silence is less a standard true crime book, and more half memoir and half a chronicling of the author's meticulous research process. as an undergrad at harvard, becky cooper, heard repeated tellings of a near mythic campus legend: of a nameless female grad student who had an affair with a tenured archaeology professor in the '60s who murdered her in a ritualistic manner and got away with it thanks to the omnipotent powers-that-be at harvard and the case remained unsolved ever after.

the story stayed with cooper until she felt compelled to learn all that she could over the course of the next decade. to untangle the truth from the cautionary tales that were whispered in the hallowed hallways of harvard. the very beginning of this story starts with the uncovering of a name: jane britton, who was so much more than the victim she became in the final moments of her life. and then it unfurls from there: not just to the facts surrounding the murder, but also the intimate details that make up a life, both loved and lost, and the surrounding culture that could allow this silence to perpetuate for decades while recognizing the power structures that still thrive in today's world.

this book is an exhaustive record of cooper's research efforts—the archives she dug through, the events she snuck into, the websites she trawled, the doors she knocked on, the people who would and wouldn't talk to her, the jobs she accepted and turned down to help her make the time to tell this story—but also an examination of her own biases and motives. how we affect the stories that are told and how we tell them, and also the ways in which we, explicitly or not, try to force facts to fit into familiar narrative story beats. it's also concerned with the power structures in the world of academia, specifically at harvard, that so often protect powerful men at the expense of vulnerable women, no matter how talented and promising and innocent, all in the name of reputation and tradition.

potential suspects rise and fall away like waves crashing on a shore as cooper and those who loved jane try to make sense of the violence that ended her life so young, but this is not a book that is confined to the whodunit nature of most true crime tales. rather, cooper is more compelled to tell jane's story in a way that both honors jane and is honest about her.

if you like non-fiction, have ever enjoyed true crime, and have some time to devote yourself to a 400+ page book, i highly recommend we keep the dead close. the case was solved in 2018 while cooper was still writing the story (though perhaps some answers bring forth only more questions), but i recommend against googling the case beforehand and instead letting the experience wash over you.

[shegetsburned]

❝ the prince’s jewel ❞ w. ryomen sukuna 𝜗𝜚.

BRIDGERTON AU⌇

• — dear gentle reader. this author feels not all is fit to print when so much is already known by far too many members of the ton when it comes to the mighty prince sukuna. though delighted by the frenzy of competition, this author believes that the prince will not participate in any courting exchange, despite his great desire to sire an heir or perhaps his desire to be known as the ton’s number one rake.

.nsfw.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who’s known throughout the whole kingdom to be a ruthless but laid-back ruler, having little to no interest in his subjects. barely governing as it is, he prefers to enjoy the wealth that his title has given him without an ounce of empathy for his poor subordinates. boredom has brought him to london where he believes to find at least some sort of entertainment to pass his time.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who has no shame showing himself at the entrances of brothels and shady bars with ladies wrapped around his arms. never denying any of his endeavours and laughing in the face of scandals. when his name makes the header of the society’s paper, his grin grows the more larger.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who believes that, if he is to be married, his highness deserves none other than the diamond of the season, chosen by the queen for her beauty, elegance, purity and grace; you.

he has absolutely everything to envy; perfect musculature, charm, alluring beauty, enormous wealth and bewitching gaze which, without a doubt, attracts most ladies on display. he has many choices and doesn’t want to settle for any pathetic young girl that would throw herself at his feet. the diamond has to be his.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who, as soon as he laid eyes on you, never hid his desire to rip your pretty dress apart with his perverted gaze. as you gracefully walked before the queen, his eyes travelled from your lips, trailing down to your appetizing curves moulded by your tight corset. the gown you wore had every man in the room breaking their neck to catch a glimpse of the diamond.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who has learned about the custom of a man calling upon a lady and visiting her at her home, which he is way too indifferent to do. instead, sukuna sends you tons of enormous bouquets. gorgeous flowers that mostly scare off callers from their beauty and expansiveness. he might refuse to visit, but his gifts are enough for you to consider his proposal rather quickly.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who couldn’t care less about etiquettes or manners. you danced with another man? he’d immediately interrupt the two of you, groping your gown and pulling you closer with a nasty smirk. another suitor’s writing his name on your dance card? prince sukuna stares him down, tearing the piece of paper and pulling the string around your wrist to whisper in your ears insanities none would dare hear in a ballroom.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna whose favourite past time is to lead you in the pleasure garden, making sure every suitor, every mama and every lady of the ton has seen you walk beside the prince to the dark walk. he’s always determined to take it a step further. wether it’s with a curious hand on your ass, with his teeth around your earlobe or with his lips tasting your neck, his addiction is the more clearer.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who has shown everyone that none other than him should court you and you let him. you let him have a hold on you and on your chances of ever securing a proposal with another suitor. most indeed believe prince sukuna has already stolen your honor even though, despite his most inappropriate gestures, hasn’t declared you his just yet. torturing you with sneaky glances and provocating promises became rather quickly the talk of the ton which suited him entirely.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who, after several weeks, finally called on you. you’re more than surprised when he bribes your chaperone to let you two talk in private. without lying to himself or to you, he explains the reasons for his visit. truth is, the prince’s tired of waiting and he wants to consume your innocence while he still can.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who has you riding his entire length in your bed chamber. innocent puffy lips whining and moaning out his name. tits bouncing frenetically while his claws spreads your ass, leaving an odious mark. an inexperienced debutante like you, euphorically drunk on his dick, had the prince sukuna going for hours. hickies and teeth marks covered your chaste figure, officially claiming you as his. his hands explored every inch of your skin, planting his nails into the fat of your ass every time you bounced on him to lead you further down so you felt him deeper.

₊˚ପ⊹ prince!sukuna who, after an intense session of fucking and taking your innocence away, doesn’t bother helping you clean up, enjoying the sight of your messed up hair and teared-up dress. he leaves you exhausted in your wet sheets, with the promise of stealing you away to his kingdom the next time you would see him. the only thing he left behind is a lecherous diamond eager for her prince to come back and take much more than just her innocence.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

I don’t understand the fandoms love for Daemon, by all rights he should be as hated as Joffrey was. Not only did he do almost everything Joffrey did, he also did worse. Even Tywin wouldn’t hold a candle to his cruelty. I understand liking a villainous character, I do too with Cersei and Tywin, but I’ve never went out of my way to whitewash their characters. I love them because they are villainous and practically irredeemable, if team black stans liked Daemon for his villainous actions before and during the Dance of Dragons I wouldn’t have any problems with it. But the fact that they go out of their way to defend him killing Rhea Royce because “he was forced into a marriage he didn’t like!!!!” As if she wasn’t too. And the fact that they defend him sending Blood and Cheese to psychologically torture Haelena and kill Jaehaerys due to “a son for a son it’s only right” when they despise Alicents moment of madness when her son was denied justice, makes me want to hurl.

It’s alright to like villainous characters, it doesn’t make you a bad person if you like them. But you know what makes you a moronic person? Whitewashing everything that makes a character compelling because you want to like them without seeming like a ‘bad person’. Your opinion on a character does not determine your own morality, it doesn’t make you better or worse than someone who hates them. But what it does, when you erase their entire identity as a rouge to make them more palatable to you, is make you seem moronic, stupid, and lacking any critical thinking and reading comprehension skills.

Rhaenyra is a compelling character because she is entitled and spoiled and lacks any political experience, she shows how badly Viserys fucked up when he tried to compensate for his guilt of murdering Aemma. Alicent is a compelling character because she is a mother who is trying her best to protect her children from the reality that if Daemon took the throne for Rhaenyra, he would kill all of them because they are a threat. She is even more of a compelling character in the books because of her ambition and cunning and want for her family to rise far above the ‘station’ of being a noble house in the Reach (as if house Hightower aren’t the oldest house in Westeros who could trace their lineage back to both the Garth Greenhand the high king of the first men and the Andal Kings that came afterwards). Daemon, for all that I dislike him as a character, is compelling for his ruthlessness and shortsightedness in his pursuit of the throne. He didn’t raise an army for Viserys because he thought he was a competent leader, he did it because it raised his own standing within Westeros, he groomed Rhaenyra not because he loved her, but because having him in her good graces means that he stood a better chance of being king after she was named heir. His ruthlessness is compelling. Taking it away to make him into a ‘malewife’ or a ‘loving father’ or a man who is lacking any ambition beyond wanting a valyrian wife is taking away his agency. It makes him seem like a Gary Sue who only wants the throne because his brother said Rhaenyra was heir. It makes it so that he is so completely white bread like that not even I, someone who loved the more morally bankrupt characters in ASOIAF can find him agreeable in any way shape or form.

Daemon is a fundamentally morally bankrupt character and he should stay that way. If you like him you should acknowledge and accept that he is one of the ‘bad guys’. Just as Cersei fans acknowledge and accept that she is fundamentally a morally bankrupt person who is selfish to the extreme. We like morally black characters because they are morally black. To make excuses for their actions is to take away their agency which makes them unlikable and very hate-able.

Daemons actions aren’t justifiable, blood and cheese would never be justified. A son for a son is akin to the visceral disgust the fandom had to Alicent when she asked for Lucerys’ eye, yet I bet when season two comes out and Blood and Cheese happens we’d see Daemon fans applauding and trying to justify it as ‘not that bad’ and ‘team green deserved it because of Aemond’s actions’ when little Jaehaerys, a boy of 6, was as far removed from the incident as can be. It would be akin to Team Green saying that due to Jaehaerys’ death, Aegon III or Viserys II deserved to have their head cut off in front of Rhaenyra.

Let morally bankrupt characters be morally bankrupt. You aren’t morally bankrupt because you like said character, it’s a fictional story loosely based on Empress Matilda. It’s not that deep. Like the characters you like without trying to justify their actions. They might be monstrous but you aren’t because you like them. It’s not a measure of your own character because you like said character. But it is a measure of your intelligence when you try to change said character’s entire personality to make it so that they are more digestible to you and everyone else.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️TWO

CHAPTER ONE TWO THREE◾️FOUR◾️FIVE SIX◾️SEVEN◾️EIGHT◾️NINE◾TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

She wakes up in his bed without any recollection of how she got there and what happened. But does it matter? She'd be stupid to deny a hot, rich guy like him, wouldn't she? No matter what he demands of her...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Butt plug. Hand job/blow job. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 5.8k

ONE 🟥 TWO 🟥 THREE

She wakes to a low thumping inside her head and a strange taste on her tongue. It's a known hurt, usually brings up memories of parties, too much to drink, dancing till her feet give up. But she can't remember anything. And it's painful to even try to remember. It gets worse when she opens her eyes and finds herself in an unknown room.

On a bed. A stranger's bed.

Her first instinct is a little flutter of her heart, panic, unease, frantically looking around while she sits up slowly and bunches the covers around her shivering body. A quick feel beneath them gives her a short-lived peace of mind. She's not naked, but some of her clothes are missing. She swallows thickly, clears her throat, tests her voice.

Only to suddenly meet the stare of a man sitting opposite the bed, on a couch between two large floor-to-ceiling windows showing a familiar cityscape. She freezes when he looks at her with dark eyes, a little glint in them, a smirk on his lips as he watches her. She wraps the blanket tighter around herself.

“Good morning,” he says, voice deep, a low thrum in the air.

“Hi,” she replies hoarsely, her rapid heartbeat echoing inside her hurting skull.

“How do you feel?”

“Head hurts,” she mumbles, not even wondering why he would ask that. Not wondering anything at that point, really.

“There are some painkillers on the nightstand, and water,” he replies with a nod to her left.

She follows the hint and sees a large glass of water and two small pills next to it. And her skirt, neatly folded on the edge of the table. Leaning over to grab the things she needs to hopefully feel better, she keeps her eyes on him, cautious, hesitant. Once the pills are down and the glass empty, she inhales deeply, that awful taste gone from her mouth. One less thing to worry about. Though it gives her the chance to feel other things.

Like the stickiness between her thighs.

Shifting on the bed, she looks around, dares to break eye contact, gets a lay of the land, or at least the room. Huge. Minimalist. Just the bed, two bedside tables with a tiny lamp each, no clutter, a large couch on the opposite wall with a pompous rug in front of it, two doors to her right, one on the left. A single large plant in one corner. Fancy wooden floorboards, white walls adorned with exquisite trim. A luxurious light fixture built for a museum above her.

She looks back at him, her mind racing. “Do you remember me?” he asks when she meets his gaze. She nods. Of course she does. She's been coming to his club for weeks, and he finally noticed her. She has no idea how she ended up in his bedroom though.

He stands up, a tall frame clad in a fancy black suit with a white shirt, handsome and intimidating. Somehow even wealthier than she expected. His steps are confident as he approaches the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. “Did we –” she starts quietly, scooting back a little as he sits down on the edge, facing her.

“Did we what?” he replies, his lips curling up slightly. “Use your words, darling.”

She shivers, a strange feeling coursing through her as his words sink in. “Did we have sex?” she then manages to say, feeling her cheeks warming up.

“No,” he says, braced on one arm as he watches her closely. “Do you want us to?”

Now her head is burning, and she looks away with a sharp inhale. His laugh is low and rough. She breathes loudly through her nose.

“Is that not why you came to me?”

Their eyes meet again, she bites the inside of her cheek. Has it been that obvious? It's been a stunt, a challenge from her friends, a silly little dream. She's had no idea it would actually work. Whatever it was that made it work. There hasn't been much planning, to be honest, with how drunk she's been, high on adrenaline and endorphins, too happy to care about possible consequences.

She flinches when he extends a hand and brushes his fingers against her side, curls them into the blanket. Her heart is racing as he slowly pulls it away, exposing her. She doesn't fight it, just freezes, hugs her knees to her chest, crosses her feet, when the covers fall away. Why doesn't she fight it? Why should she? He's hot, rich, gives her the attention she's been craving her whole life. She'd be stupid to push a man like that away.

But he doesn't touch her, just looks at her, eyes wandering over her body, while she sits on the bed, shivering, waiting, her mind spinning.

“Why are you here?” he asks, and she frowns at the question.

“Why did you bring me here?”

His eyes meet hers, his gaze intense, dark, somewhat hungry. There's a playful twitch to his lips, and he leans back, licking them. “Probably the same reason why you approached me,” he replies quietly, his voice low with an almost dangerous edge to it. “To fuck you absolutely senseless.”

His words make her gasp, eyes widening at the bluntness. Still she feels that throb between her legs, the warmth seeping into her panties. She shouldn't be this excited, and she forces herself to not make it too obvious.

Grinding her jaw, she looks away, towards the large windows. She has no idea what time of day it is, the sky is gray and the buildings she can see are only various shapes in a different shade of gray. She must be downtown, it's too high up to recognize anything. She's never been in any of the taller buildings of the city before.

His hand is on her foot, long fingers curling around it, and she whips her head back to him, inhaling sharply. “Is that not what you want?” he whispers, his thumb drawing circles on her ankle.

She breathes faster, no longer as sure as she's been last night. It's not helping that she cannot remember anything other than approaching him at the bar. There's the faint image of being pinned to a wall, making out in the darkness. But nothing more. She swallows, staring down at his hand.

“I... I don't know...” she mumbles. His thumb stops moving, he tilts his head at her.

“Are you a virgin, sweetheart?” he asks bluntly.

She clears her throat, ears burning under her hair. “Uh, yeah,” she admits, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. His touch feels too warm, too invasive all of a sudden.

“Do you want to leave here a virgin?”

She doesn't like the way he says that, it makes goosebumps ripple over her skin. He takes his hand away, and she looks at him. She's expected him to grin at her, look suggestive, leering and creepy, somehow, but his expression is full of genuine worry, lines on his forehead, a furrow between his brows. Dark eyes as intense as ever, but warmer. And so freaking handsome it's really distracting.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she can only shake her head. His face relaxes, the hint of a smile grazing his lips. “Good,” he says and stands up. She flinches at the sudden movement. “Go take a shower,” he then orders, pointing to one of the doors to her right. “There's some stuff you can use in there. Wait here when you're done.”

His tone is authoritative, not leaving any room for complaints or hesitation. “Yes, sir,” slips out of her almost automatically, and he smiles wider.

“Good girl,” he says, winking at her as he walks around the bed towards the door leading out of the room.

He leaves her sitting on the bed, shivering, a strange tension in her stomach. She doesn't even try to comprehend why his last two words to her felt like something she's never experienced before, like a warm shiver running down her spine, a caress deep within her. An itch she never knew she needed to scratch.

The bathroom is almost as huge as the bedroom, black and white tiles, warm wooden tones in the vanity and cabinets lining one wall to accent the lack of colors. There's a big bathtub in front of a large window, the lower half of it covered by expensive looking blinds, showing only the gray sky beyond. The shower is enormous, could easily fit five people. But she's alone in it, standing under the spray, still pondering what is happening. What she's agreed to.

Has she agreed to anything though? Well, denying to want to leave or to remain a virgin couldn't be more straight-forward.

What's gotten into her?

Sure, he's handsome, wealthy, owns a night club, lives in an apartment overlooking the city, quite a catch, but he is still a stranger. Just a man she's grown a little infatuated with over the last visits to his club. She's always seen him lounging at the bar, looking over the dance floor, dark eyes scanning the crowd. She's seen him hooking up with random girls, leading them into the back.

And she wanted to be one of them.

A silly wish, and now she stands naked in his shower. It's almost too good to be true. No, it's foolish, dangerous even. She doesn't know him. Did she really agree to be taken back to his place? She can't remember. Why can't she remember? The painkillers work, but the low thumping is still there, muffled and no longer as agonizing, but still there, in the back of her mind, like a mass of unanswered questions burning through her nerves.

Inhaling deeply, surrounded by the steam of the shower and the faint scent of him that clings to the room, she tilts her chin up and lets the water run down her head, over her warm face, through her hair down her back, little rivulets following the curves of her body. Gosh! She's never felt this nervous before.

But in the end it's just sex, isn't it? Better to lose her virginity to a rich guy in his fancy place than to a drunk guy in a dirty alleyway. It can't be that bad, right?

When she steps out of the shower and grabs a towel, her gaze falls onto the little pile on the vanity. Rubbing her hair, she inspects it – and freezes. It's underwear, white lace with the hint of shimmery satin, intricate, barely able to cover anything, bra and panties, but that's not what makes her insides churn. It's the little metal thing lying on top, the teardrop shape with a small handle like a knob, adorned with a big sparkling jewel. She may be inexperienced, but she knows exactly what it is. He left her a freaking butt plug.

Shivering at the thought of putting anything up her ass, she ignores it and focuses on the packaged toothbrush he's given her. Putting all her energy into brushing her teeth, drying her body, blowing hot air through her messy hair, she quickly forgets about the implication that special gift holds. When she puts on the white underwear, she leans towards the mirror and wipes at the steamed-up surface to look at herself. A gasp escapes her.

Not only does she look so different in the lace set (the white little embroidered flowers barely covering her nipples or her sex, the thong sitting deep between her butt cheeks, leaving nothing to the imagination), but she also notices the large bruise on the side of her neck.

Her finger traces the deep purple mark, and she shivers. The memory is faint, but she can feel it as she remembers last night (or what remains of it), how he's sucked on her skin, his warm mouth, even warmer tongue, licking over his work. She swallows thickly. The throbbing is back, low inside her, her stomach tense. It's either fear or anticipation, she can't be sure just yet.

When she exits the bathroom with her hair cascading down her shoulders, trying to cover more of her chest, she lets out a little yelp when she sees him sitting on the couch again, one leg over the other, lowering his phone when he notices her. His eyes are on her immediately, and she tries to cover herself with her hands as she walks backwards to the nightstand, trying to grab her skirt.

“No need,” he says, his voice firm, and she freezes, hand extended, fingers brushing over the fabric. She frowns at him, and he shakes his head. “You'll only wear what I tell you,” he adds, and the harsh tone lets her exposed skin pebble, his words barely registering inside her suddenly empty mind.

She inhales sharply, holding her breath. She's never felt this exposed and vulnerable, embarrassed that he can see her like this. Even though he'll probably see a lot more of her very soon. The thought scares her as much as it excites her. To say she's conflicted is an understatement.

When he stands up abruptly, she flinches, and even more so when he is with her in a few quick strides of his long legs. His hand closes around her wrist, pulling her towards him. She has to look up at him now, her chest rising and falling faster, heart thundering loudly, something hot gathering deep in her belly. He watches her closely, a stern look in his eyes, as his other hand slides down her side, over skin and lace, curves around her rear, and she shrieks when she feels his fingers dipping into the cleft between her ass cheeks.

He lets go of her, his eyebrows furrowed. She bites her lip as he scrutinizes her darkly, before he turns around and enters the bathroom. He comes back with the little metal thing between his fingers, and she feels her stomach tensing up even more.

“You didn't like my little gift, huh?” he says quietly, almost menacingly.

“I... I did–didn't know how to... use that...” she admits in a breathy whisper.

“Hmm,” he hums and steps closer to her, one hand cupping her face as he leans towards her, the other holding up the plug, dangerously close to her lips. She stares at him, stiffening, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Open your mouth,” he tells her.

She hesitates, and he pushes his thumb and forefinger into her cheeks, forcing her jaw apart. A muffled whimper escapes her, and she grabs at his wrist instinctively. His gaze darkens.

“Tongue out,” he whispers, his voice that low thrum in the air, stern and strict, and she knows she shouldn't hesitate anymore. Slowly she extends her tongue, flat, mouth open, her eyes wide as she watches him when he lowers the metal object onto it. “Come on, lick it or it goes in dry.”

A cold shiver crashes through her, every muscle clenching in anticipation. Struggling to swallow hard (which isn't easy with her mouth open), she flicks her tongue around the cold object, holding his gaze. He pushes the plug deeper between her lips and forces her to close her mouth around it. She feels her eyes watering as he pushes it in and out, coating it in her saliva, warming it up. It's humiliating, to say the least. But she's afraid it's only the beginning...

He plops the plug back out of her mouth, then quickly pulls her against him as he sits down on the edge of the bed. She can barely react as he manhandles her onto his lap, draped over it, ass raised, stomach pressing into his hard thigh, hair falling over her head. She claws at the fabric of his pants, squirming on his lap, her head spinning as she tries to understand what's happening. “Hold still,” he tells her, but it's almost an instinct to writhe more, fight against what he has planned.

The sudden slap of his hand against her ass cheek is loud in her ears, and it takes a moment before the pain attacks her senses. A pathetic little cry escapes her, and she kicks her feet. Another slap to the other cheek makes her yelp again, the sting to her soft skin like nothing she's ever felt before.

“Hold still!” he repeats, and she whimpers, buries her head in his leg, and forces herself not to squirm, despite the throbbing pain. She feels tears in her eyes, her mind blank with shock. Her breaths are frantic, little wheezes of panic. “Shh,” he makes, his hand gently caressing the irritated skin now. She relaxes a bit, but only until he pulls her thong to the side and she feels something cold pressing against her sphincter.

“No!” she whines out, unable not to squirm, and he sighs deeply. Instead of spanking her again, he brushes his finger along her cleft, warm, a teasing tingle, a little rough, but better than that hard plug. Until she hears and feels him spitting on her, something warm and wet gathering on her skin, his finger spreading it around slowly, and then he dips his fingertip into her tight hole.

She gasps and tenses up immediately, only making it worse. He doesn't care, slowly works his finger deeper, wriggling it slightly, easing the tight muscles. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, quietly whimpering, frozen in place. Surrendering to the fate she seemingly called upon herself. By the time he forces the plug into her ass, she's sobbing, unsure how to feel about the object poking out of her – and what that says about his other plans for her.

He helps her stand then, big hands on her upper arms, looks down at her as she looks up at him through her tears. Sighing deeply, he wipes at her wet face, smoothing her hair, shaking his head. “You'll learn to love it,” he whispers before he leans in and presses his lips to hers for a soft kiss, a gesture she hasn't expected after whatever just happened. His words barely register, the underlying threat (or promise?) for more overpowered by her own shame and confusion.

Leaning back, one hand on her face, thumb on her bottom lip, he watches her, something dark glinting in his eyes. His other hand moves along the curve of her spine before he gives her another slap to her tense ass cheek. She cries out, flinching away, feeling her muscles clenching around the metal thing inside her. He only laughs and grabs her hand, pulling her after him.

She puts her bare feet into the ground, and he looks back at her, eyebrows raised. “C-can I... get something m-more to wear?” she asks quietly, voice hoarse from crying.

He tilts his head, chuckling. “No need,” he says again. “It's just us, baby, don't worry.” She doesn't know how to feel about that.

“Please?” she tries again. “I'm... cold...”

“Are you now?” he whispers, his hand moving up to her chest, his thumb pressing against her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. “Doesn't look like it.”

She lowers her head, inhaling sharply, blinking away new tears.

“Little advice, darling,” he says, putting his finger under her chin and making her look at him. “Never lie to me.” His words are cold, his eyes dark as he stares at her. “Understood?”

She swallows, nods slowly. He grabs her chin, narrowing his eyes. “Y-yes,” she says, quickly adding: “Sir.”

He lets go of her and gives her a smile, his hand on her head, patting it softly. “Good girl,” he whispers. Her insides tense up, something cold trickles down her spine while something warm throbs inside her core.

He takes her through his vast apartment, but she's too focused on walking behind him to really look around, his hand big and tight around hers, her bare feet tapping over the wooden floor, and she feels practically naked in that sorry excuse for underwear he's forced her to wear.

Force, there's no way around it now. He's forcing her to do this, no matter what she might have agreed to. That plug in her ass that twitches with every step she takes? She didn't want that and yet it's there now, tightly gripped by her confused muscles, the shiny knob brushing against her thong, giving her shiver after shiver. But she's too stunned and overwhelmed by it all to even think about finding a way out of this.

Is this still what she wants? Has she ever truly wanted this, whatever this is? She has no idea, she just knows, somehow, that whatever he tells her to do, she'll do it if he keeps calling her good girl. It's a strange realization, two simple words, but they make her feel special, like she's never felt before. Just thinking about it makes her core ache, her muscles clench, her nipples perk up.

She's caught in her own mind when he stops in front of a set of couches, a u-shape in a large room, a plush rug beneath her feet, more of those big floor-to-ceiling windows, the gray city beyond the glass, so far away it seems. He watches her, she realizes when she looks up at him with a slight frown, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. Letting go of her hand, he sits down, leans deep into the cushions, both arms resting on the back of the couch.

“Straddle me,” he says quietly as she shifts nervously on her feet in front of him. Swallowing, she moves her gaze from his eyes to his crotch, to his wide spread legs. A confident sitting position, exuding dominance. And she knows she shouldn't hesitate, but it still takes her a moment to follow the order.

Slowly she moves closer, one leg on either side of his, cautiously pushing them together a bit to allow her to kneel on the couch and sit down on his strong thighs. Her hands find his shoulders for support, and she watches him as closely as he watches her. Her heart is racing when she settles on his lap, trying not to focus on the fact that her legs are spread wide enough to give him a good look at the scandalously thin fabric of her thong, barely hiding anything.

He tilts his head as she retrieves her hands and folds them in front of her sex, head lowered, shoulders stiff, still unsure what she is even doing here. Suddenly he grabs her waist, large hands splayed around her body, making her look back at him with a little gasp.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes boring into hers. It's not a question of consent, it's another command, and she can't help but agree yet again.

“I... I want this,” she says under her breath.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”

She inhales deeply. “Yes.”

“Say it,” he urges, fingers digging into her soft flesh. “Tell me what you want.”

“I... I want...” she starts, chewing on her lip, her eyes wandering away from him, her cheeks burning up in embarrassment. “I...” Her mouth feels dry. “I want you to... to...” She swallows thickly. “...to sleep with me...”

His laugh sounds almost mocking. She looks up with her eyebrows furrowed, her lips pursed, discomfort written all over her face. “So fucking innocent,” he mutters, shaking his head, amusement or malice making his lips twitch. “Say you want me to fuck you. Come on, use big girl words, baby.”

She presses her lips together, shifting on his lap. “I... I want you to... f-fuck me...” she repeats quietly, clenching her jaw, trying to hide the shaking of her voice, embarrassment burning deep inside her belly.

His hands move up her sides until he grabs her face, pulling her closer towards him until his nose brushes against hers. “You want me to take your virginity?” he whispers darkly, his breath fanning over her face.

“Y-yes,” she whispers back, her heart beating harder.

“You want my cock in your cunt?”

She flinches at his words, but nods into his hands.

“Say it...”

She swallows, breathing loudly through her nose. “I... I want your... your cock... in my... my c-cunt,” she stammers, feeling the blush spreading all over her body, her eyes watering under the intensity of his gaze, his closeness, his grip on her face, the dominance in his voice.

He smiles, quickly pressing his lips to hers. “Good girl.”

She closes her eyes, a deep shudder rushing through her body like a wave of relief. He pulls her against him, wrapping both arms around her, just holding her while she rests her cheek on his shoulder, savoring his warmth, the unexpected intimacy of a simple hug. But simple doesn't seem to be something he likes, because his hands wander lower, cupping her rear, fingers kneading her soft flesh, teasing between her cheeks, rubbing along the thin strip of fabric, pressing against the base of the plug.

Forcing herself not to flinch, she just leans against him and lets him touch her, her hands squished between their bodies, dangerously close to the warm hardness between his legs. With how he handles her butt, she's forced closer against him, her fingers brushing along the bulge, and when he suddenly pulls on the plug, she jerks away and into him, pelvis slamming into his lower stomach, and she can feel him through the thin fabric of her thong. Hard and hot.

His hands move back to her hips, pulling her away again. He looks at her, curiously with a dark glint in his eyes. “Have you ever touched a cock, darling?” he asks quietly.

She licks her lips, shakes her head.

“Seen one?”

Another shake of her head. His amusement turns into surprise, while the shame of her confession makes her blush even more. He gives her a strangely sweet smile, one hand on her warm cheek, thumb tracing the outline of her lips.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” she replies, her heart racing. His eyebrows rise up, and she quickly adds: “Sir?” He just looks at her, pointedly, demanding. “I... I want to touch it...” she then whispers, biting her lip. “Your... your cock...”

He caresses her cheek, smiling. “Such a quick learner,” he praises. “Well, go on then, make your wish come true,” he continues, leaning into the cushions, pushing her backwards a little, his arms resting on the back of the couch as he watches her intently.

She stares at him for a moment before she understands the command. Shifting on his lap, her fingers move towards his belt, shaking uncontrollably, her mind reeling, heart beating out of her chest. Somehow she manages to unbuckle his belt and open the button and zipper of his pants. Without too much thought, her hand curls into the opening, fingertips brushing against warm skin.

Looking up for confirmation, she sees him nodding, and when she frees his hard erection (the sight more intimidating than she expected) by pulling the fabric down, his lips curl up into a smirk. “Don't be shy, just grab it.”

She does, two small hands around his girthy length, his flesh hot and hard, veins bulging against her palms. A little throbbing motion from deep within. Unsure what to do, she just squeezes her hands around him a little, until he puts his big hand on hers and starts moving it, showing her how he wants her to touch him. He's surprisingly patient with his teachings, guides one of her hands up and down his shaft while he places her other to cup around his testicles.

Her breaths are frantic little puffs of air, her cheeks are burning in embarrassment, but when she looks at his face instead of his angrily throbbing cock, she sees him smiling at her, a soft expression she hasn't expected, almost proud, and she inhales deeply and focuses on the task at hand – literally.

Eventually he takes his hands away and lets her do her thing, and she follows the movements he's shown her, moving her hand up and down, shifting the soft skin over his hardened core, closing her fist around his tip, smearing the precum leaking from it around his length, while the fingers of her other hand knead the soft flesh of his balls. It's almost relaxing, meditative.

He's breathing deeper, louder, and she can see his face tensing up, as if he's holding himself back. She continues stroking him, pumping him with all she has, until he grabs her wrist and stops her, his eyes almost black from how dilated his pupils are. She's too stunned to fight him when he suddenly manhandles her onto the couch next to him, on her knees, facing him, and he forces her head down with an iron grip to her hair. She yelps in surprise.

“Open your mouth,” he rasps, voice deep and rough. She swallows hard, stares down at his cock twitching inches away from her face. But she follows the order, her lips trembling as she parts them, tongue out flat, and before she can prepare herself, he's forced her head down on him. His tip slips into her mouth, warm and wet, a slightly bitter taste on her tongue. “Close your lips around it and suck,” he orders, his grip unrelenting.

She feels her eyes watering, her chest heaving in panic, her hands bracing around his thigh. He holds her in place, waits for her to do so, and when she hollows her cheeks, he inhales sharply. She breathes loudly through her nose, feeling his cock hard and heavy against her tongue, poking into her gums. It's just the tip, but it fills out her mouth to the point she's afraid to choke on it.

“Keep... pumping,” he breathes, hoarsely, on the verge of losing it. Her hand finds the rest of his dick, and she starts moving it up and down his length, still so much ground to cover, so big she's somehow glad he doesn't force it deeper, or even down her throat.

His body is shivering beneath her, the hand in her hair tightening its grip until it hurts. Muffled whimpers escape her, but she keeps sucking on his tip, precum and saliva filling her mouth, dripping past her lips and down her chin. She moves her tongue as best as she can, flicking it around his spongy crown, while stroking up and down his throbbing girth quick and hard.

A grunt escapes him, and she feels him twitching inside her mouth and against her palm. He grabs her head with both hands and holds it down, it's a sharp pain that makes tears roll over her cheeks, but it's nothing compared to the sudden jerk against the back of her throat that makes her flinch in panic.

She tastes it, hot and salty and thick, as he comes inside her mouth, spurt after spurt, filling her cheeks until she can't hold it anymore and has to swallow. It hurts to do so, and she opens her jaw a little wider, letting most of it drip down her chin as she gulps for air.

He relaxes beneath her, his grip easing on her head, releasing her. His hand pries her tight fingers off his cock and holds it himself while he pulls her back a little. She looks up at him from under her clumped lashes, vision blurry, mouth and chin covered in a thick layer of spit and cum. She feels too lightheaded to be embarrassed about how she may look, and when he gives her a weak smile, she cares even less.

His finger traces along her chin, gathers his cum and slowly pushes between her trembling lips. It's almost an instinct to lick around his fingertip, and his eyes darken at the sight in front of him. He keeps cleaning her and she keeps licking up his essence, the taste growing on her despite the initial bitterness. He wipes his palm over her mouth, smearing the last remnants over her lips, before he holds out his hand to her, soiled palm up, watching her closely.

She shifts on her knees, her body shivering, overwhelmed by all these new experiences, but she manages to cradle his big hand with her smaller ones and leans down to trace her tongue over his lifelines, lapping up the rest until his hand is clean. He nods approvingly and grabs her chin to guide her back to his crotch. “Clean,” he says quietly, and she only nods and bends down to bring her tongue to his cock once more.

His fingers dig into her hair, gentle caresses this time, light scalp massages, while she licks around his tip, sucks up the last drops of cum from his slit, moves up and down his shaft with her lips sucking lightly, while her lungs burn and her head throbs. It's as if it's the only thing that exists anymore, his cock, his pleasure, his contentment. Only to get the soft touches and gentle words, those two words he has yet to say to her for her service, her obedience.

He pulls her back once she's done, quickly putting himself away again while she leans on her knees, head bowed, licking her lips, swaying slightly as if drunk. It's a strange kind of serenity. Calm, head empty, his taste lingering on her tongue. Nothing more to worry about.

Shifting beside her, he pulls her onto his lap, strong arms caging her in, her head resting on his shoulder as he holds her, one hand rubbing up and down her back. “You did good,” he whispers, and she shivers, soaking up the praise like a sponge, saving it for later.

“Thank you,” she breathes against him, and the hand on her back pauses.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks.

She swallows, inhaling deeply. “For... for saying that I did good, for... teaching me, for...” She feels her cheeks burning up, head clearing enough to feel embarrassed again. “For... letting me touch and... and taste you...” she adds in a low mumble, burying her face in his collarbone. For not forcing me to do more, she thinks.

He laughs softly, resuming the rubbing of her back. “It's nice to start the day like this, huh?”

She only hums in response, melting into his body as he holds her. They sit like this for a long moment, it feels strangely natural, intimate and warm. Something she could get used to. Something that scratches the itch deep within.

ONE 🟥 TWO 🟥 THREE

End notes: It's only going downhill from here...

By the way, you may or may not have noticed that these characters don't have names: and that's on purpose. I want to keep this as vague as possible, focusing solely on their connection. If you need to address them, I guess Sir and Darling would work? But really, it's just He and She now.

(And if you wanted to, you can imagine them being your favorite fictional characters also. I didn't describe their appearance either, despite it being an older, taller man and younger, shorter woman. Anything goes.)

And yes, our female character is very naive, very submissive, very innocent indeed. I hope it's not too much. She has a crush, okay? And we all know (hopefully) how that can turn brains into mush.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾️TWO◾️THREE◾️FOUR◾️FIVE

SIX◾️SEVEN◾️EIGHT◾️NINE◾️TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

[cupidsdolll]

pairings: boyfriend!mafia!Harry x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: Harry's known for being ruthless in the way he does his job, a day out with his girlfriend takes a horrible turn.

content warnings. IMPORTANT: hurt no comfort. blood, guns, knifes, and death. please read with caution

authors note: this has to be the darkest story i've written and i just want to say please read with caution, don't read if you are uncomfortable with any of the warning written above. minors please don't interact. this may or may not have a second part following the aftermath.

----

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. 

Everything seems to go wrong one after another and Harry blames himself. If he hadn’t been so reckless, had been paying more attention he would’ve seen it coming. He figured they’d come for him eventually, there’s no denying that part. He had enemies, there’s no doubt about that. It just comes with the job, or the title he would say. Being a head boss of his huge mafia crew, he’s bound to have enemies because of the fact that he’s relentless in his ways. 

He doesn’t waste time with questions that most people ask before killing someone, he gathers the information beforehand and watches them before making his move. He’s mean in his acts, likes to torture them and prolong the pain before quickly putting them out of the misery (he just doesn’t like to hear their screams.) He’ll beat them and laugh while doing it, mocking their cries while he tortures them. He’s well known around the United States, his name sending fear through most people that hear it. No one wants to deal with him, to end up on his bad side, while other mafias will send their catch to him sometimes if one of their employees doesn't want to do it. He’s popular with the other bosses, constantly being invited to any events and to teach but he declines, it’s simply a waste of his time. 

While his hard exterior scares off anyone in sight, there’s one person who broke down his walls and quite frankly is  the complete opposite of him. While he’s all black and grumpy, she’s soft and sunshine-y, all bows and giggles and sweet smelling perfume. She doesn’t hang around him while he’s “Mafia Harry,” usually out shopping or baking or whatever because she can’t stand blood or seeing anyone get hurt though she understands why he does what he does. His men think he’s crazy half of the time, the amount of times they’ve walked into him smiling on the phone (when he’s not bossing his men around, barking orders over the phone or beating someone to a pulp) or chuckling to himself at certain points of the day is concerning to them. 

He doesn’t talk about his personal life to them aside from his closest man on the team, EJ who has heard bits and pieces about Harry’s girlfriend, his other men don’t get paid to listen to him gush on and on about the girl of his dreams. They whisper amongst themselves about how he’s smoked too much or needs to cut back on drinking and drugs and whatever else he does, they think it’s all gone to his head. None of them bring it up to him though, they know better than to do so. After all, he is the one that signs their checks and he treats them well enough that they don’t want to mess up any chances of keeping their job. They just don’t understand how their grumpy and uncaring boss can be so smiley and happy, especially before he has to take care of someone. 

He keeps her away from his job for a reason, there’s no need for anyone to see her, to know that he does in fact have a weakness. He doesn’t want to take a chance of a mole coming in and reporting to their boss about her. His main focus is protecting her and making her happy, always having her sporting his favorite smile. Besides, she’s too pretty to be around all the gruff men and blood and screams. He doesn’t want to tarnish her in any way, he loves her just the way she is and he refuses to be the one to ruin her view of the world. He doesn’t want her to end up like him, all grumpy and somewhat pessimistic of the world and always on the edge whenever he leaves the house. He wants her to keep laughing and cooing at cute animals they pass by, wants her to feel comfortable enough with him to always be able to shut her brain off and just follow him aimlessly. 

He’s a busy man, constantly having to answer phone calls and texts and emails and double checking surveillance videos to make sure they have the right guy, but he tries his best to leave work at the door when it’s just the two of them. He wants to be able to just enjoy the time together and not have to worry about who he needs to find next, wants to be able to look at her smiling and be content with that. He wants to enjoy their time together, doesn’t want to be distracted with his work duties and the constant sound of his phone dinging. 

They normally would just hang out at the house, watching whatever tv show either of them were interested in or just lounging around. That’s one of the main things that he loves about her is that she’s content with just existing with him, his past partner wanted to go out all of the time and party. He didn’t necessarily mind it, but he prefers to just unwind and relax on his off days; he just wanted to have a sense of normalcy, the peace amidst his chaos and his storms. That’s what happened when he met her. It was a cute little meeting that Harry still brings up quite frequently and is one of Y/N’s favorite memories of them. 

Harry was having a bad day, it all seemed to go wrong. While he’s always grumpy, he woke up especially grumpy that morning and of course he tried his best to not take it out on his employees, but of course still ended up being overly sarcastic with them, grumbling about whatever they did that upset him so he decided to make a trip to just breathe. He grabbed his jacket, hat and sunglasses and quickly let EJ know he’s leaving and he’s in charge for the meantime. He walked for what seemed like hours before he landed on a small coffee shop, a small run down looking building with plants in almost every corner and empty space. He figures this might help with his grumpy mood so he walks inside, the smell of coffee and different pastries fill his nose immediately, the sound of the different conversations happening all at once and the soft piano music coming from the speakers fill the space and his ears. 

He ordered a drink out of his normal, one that was recommended by EJ’s girlfriend actually, a tall white chocolate mocha with just a drizzle of caramel and it has to be iced. Those were her words exactly, it won’t taste as good if he doesn’t order it exactly how she says it.  The lady looked at him weird, a concerned glance that only says she knows how to do her job so she’d appreciate it if he didn’t doubt her abilities. He only gives her a nasty glare in return, one that flusters her so she walks away mumbling to herself as she starts making the order. He then walks to one of the nearby walls, leaning against it as his eyes scan the room and taking in the different personalities, mainly doing this to be aware of who else in the room with him (as if anyone who’s in the mafia would be ordering coffee, let alone from the same cheap looking building that he’s in,) but still just in case. 

Not even a couple minutes later, his order is being called out and he walks up to the register once more, hoping this will help his grumpy mood. He wasn’t paying as much attention as he should’ve been though, otherwise he would’ve known that this wasn’t his order actually. As he went to grab the cup of coffee, another hand reached out as well, one that was smaller and softer. Painted nails and a few rings on the fingers, and he immediately looks up with a scowl ready to tell the person off. It was his drink after all, what were they thinking? When he looked up, he was met with a soft apologetic smile and the prettiest of eyes, her hair held back with a big bow and an outfit to match. She smelt like heaven if that was a smell, sweet smelling and strong; a scent that matched her aura perfectly, although Harry wouldn’t call it her aura, he didn’t know the right word to describe it. 

He couldn’t go off on her, it’d be cruel and he’s not that mean, so he just stares at her. She immediately begins to fidget with her hands and he can tell he’s intimidating her. 

“I’m so so sorry! I just assumed this one was mine because I was here before you, but you can go ahead and take it!” She says through a breath, her eyes wide and face flushed. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, he doesn’t understand why she’s giving away her coffee if it’s true. He’s not gonna just take someone else’s coffee no matter his mood. 

“No, no go ahead. If you were here first then I’m not gonna just take it.” He says as he pushes the cup closer to her, he can feel the unnecessary glare from the worker at the whole interaction and it only irritates him further. 

“Are you sure? You seem very…um…. Grumpy and I’d hate to make your day worse.” She says as she pushes the cup towards him. 

This is all very silly, the whole situation. He’s just trying to be a gentleman and she can’t grasp that. He then grabs the cup and puts it in her hand, forcing a smile to seem as if he’s friendly and not trying to hide his frustration. 

“I’m serious, I don’t even know if I’ll like mine, it was a suggestion from a… friend of mine I guess. Enjoy it before it gets watery.” He says, but he doesn’t understand why he’s being so nice to her. Maybe because she’s pretty? But he doesn’t want to date her, he can’t afford to waste his time like this anymore.  She ends up telling him her name and asking a couple of questions to try to make small talk and unfortunately for Harry she’s fairly easy to talk to. They talk until his drink is ready, and then some more out the door as they walk to their destinations and then she has the confidence to ask for his number, which of course (and against his better judgment) he agrees. 

After that it’s pretty smooth sailing, conversations whenever they have the time, and of course a little white lie whenever she asks about what he does for work. Months later, Harry found himself asking her to be his girlfriend and of course she said yes. They usually spend their time lounging around and just existing in each other’s company, but today Y/N wanted to go for a little walk around the town. Normally Harry would be against it, especially when it’s right after he just took care of a member of a rival mafia who’s higher up on the scale and he knows he has several mad enemies looking for revenge. But Harry had thought that he’d been doing a good job hiding her from the public, having her dress as one of his men or wearing some sort of disguise after he told her the gist of what he actually does, so he doesn’t think much of it. He agrees but tells her they can only be out for half an hour, no more just to be on the safe side. She squeals excitedly before tugging on her shoes and throwing on one of his jackets and basically drags him out of their apartment. 

She shows him a couple of her favorite spots in town and gives him her favorite orders and practically begs for him to try, he will always try anything she wants. They talk quietly, wrapped in their own little bubble of bliss and this was Harry’s biggest mistake. He’s usually very attentive whenever they’re out and about, but he allowed himself to be distracted listening to her talk. She’s excited as she talks about some outfit she wants to get for the pet they don’t have, her eyes all bright and full of excitement. The air is warm against their skin and the clouds begin to roll in, dark and menacing and this is where Harry should’ve begun to take a hint. 

Things seemed too calm, aside from the storm beginning to roll in. It seemed too quiet, and then the rain began to fall. Small droplets of water cooled their skin and Y/N smiled brightly at the sky, silently thanking the universe because she always likes walking in the rain. It just always seemed so romantic to her. Harry didn’t think too much of it though he was still cautious. His eyes still scanned over the sidewalks and streets, trying to stay alert of his surroundings. He watched as Y/N tugged her jacket closer to her, a signal that she’s getting too cold but she’s always been too stubborn to let him know, she just enjoys being outside too much. 

He just assumed that time would be on his side with all of it, and had enough time to somehow throw the Gallegos family off of his tracks long enough to not have to be on edge anytime he’s out. He hates it whenever he feels as if he’s putting Y/N in harm's way, hates the feeling it gives him knowing he’s the reason she can’t just walk down the street or just even exist in this world. He’s too scared of someone linking her to him and then taking her away. Y/N says she doesn’t mind all that much, this is the happiest and the most taken care of she’s been in a really long time. As long as they’re both happy and safe, then she could care less. 

Harry didn’t see it coming. The breeze was picking up and the rain was coming down harder, thunder began to boom in the sky. The storm was coming, and it was coming fast. Everyone was scrambling to get indoors or to their cars and Y/N’s just smiling but still walking fast, she hates being too wet for too long. They were bumping into one another and Harry walked a beat behind her, just in case she happened to trip or anything. There was a slight commotion happening in front of them, the sound of gasps and the shuffling of feet as they were pushed to the side. Before long a man is running at them, a hood hiding his face and wearing baggy clothes. Harry still doesn’t think too much of it, maybe a burglary or he upset a store owner, but he’s still cautious. He walks closer to Y/N, his face turning mean in an attempt to deter the man from bothering them. It’s useless though, a good attempt at best but the man moves closer and Harry frowns. He wraps an arm around his girl and begins to move her onto the other side but the man is already right beside them, still moving. 

He’s an arm's length away and before anyone can realize it a knife is entering Y/N’s side and she’s groaning and leaning over. Harry can’t believe it, he frowns deeply and his eyes scan over her. He picks her up and begins to make his way through the crowd to find an empty spot, to make sure they’re safe before anything else happens. There’s more gasps and murmurs around them, more than likely the bystanders either assume he did it or they’re just shocked. It’s not every day that you see blood pouring out of someone. Right before Harry can get them into an alleyway and when he clicks on his ear piece to alert EJ about what’s happening, a gunshot sounds and the bullet goes into Y/N’s head, her blood splattering over his clothes and onto his face. 

He hurries into the alleyway, tears streaming down his face as he stares in disbelief. 

“EJ here, what’s up boss?” EJ’s voice comes through Harry’s earpiece. 

“EJ, they found me. They hurt her. I need you to get into all the security cameras on the strip and find out who did it, search for snipers as well. One Knifed her and someone else shot her,” His voice cracks on every word. He gently sets her down onto the ground near the wall, once he feels as if they’re far enough. Hidden enough by the shadows of the buildings but with just enough light to see the damage. 

It seemed as if the sky screamed with Harry. 

The rain was pouring down heavily, the clouds dark and the wind was unforgiving as it blew harshly against the trees and the ground below them. The lighting strikes were loud, bright flashes of light burst from the sky randomly and loud rumbles of thunder were deep in his ears. Mother Nature has to be upset as well, crying with and for Harry and his loss. He can’t believe it, the love of his life. Gone. Her breathing is shallow and her eyes are just barely opened, she doesn’t have much life left. 

“You fucking promised! You can’t leave me! Don’t hurt me like this… please” Harry’s voice cracks as he sobs over the body in his arms. 

“I’m so sorry, mama. I’m so fucking sorry, you didn’t deserve this and it’s all my fault. I knew me being in your life was a bad idea but I couldn’t help it. You made me so fucking happy, the happiest I’ve been in a while. You deserved nothing but happiness and smiles, you shouldn’t have to worry about hiding. I was selfish and I’ll forever blame myself, I should’ve let you go. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you, please. You can’t leave me. I need you.” He cries, his words are muffled into her neck, somehow hoping him speaking into her body will magically bring her back to life, keep her alive. He can’t hear anything aside from his own sobs, everyone else doesn’t matter to him at this moment. He’s sure that EJ is trying to talk to him, but he can only focus on the fact that he’ll never be able to hold her again. 

He’ll never be able to hear her laugh again. He holds her tighter to him, his tears landing in her skin and he screams. He screams and screams forever, he doesn’t care that he’s gaining attention from the people walking by. He doesn’t  care that they’re calling the police and ambulances, doesn’t care that he could be attracting his enemies. They took the only thing he truly cared for. He knows he’ll never be able to love again. There’s a few people trying to help, ask if he needs anything. Offering to take them to the hospital, even the paramedics can’t get to her. He won’t let them take her away from him, he can’t bear it. He can’t imagine a life away from her. They’re trying to convince him that she needs to go to the hospital, trying to take her from his hold. He just holds her limp body tighter, crying harder and yells at them. 

Eventually they’re able to calm him down enough to remove her from his hold and they begin to transfer her to the ambulance. 

“Don’t bother taking her to the hospital. Just take her to the morgue. She’s dead. There’s no saving her.” He says as he wipes his tears, everyone just stares at him. 

“Please.” He says and just walks through them, he doesn’t have it in him to argue. Right now, he has a mission. He’s determined to get revenge. 

He now has no reason to not hold back anymore, and he plans on finding each and every one from that group. 

He’s not going to play nice, and he’s going to take his dear sweet time. If they thought he was crazy and ruthless already, he’s going to prove that he’s insane now.

[sssammich]

fic: let there be another day

inspired by this fantastically angsty gifset of a supercorp AU. happy supercorp sunday yall

thanks x

---

The days transform steadily, selfishly, into weeks. Until the weeks have amounted to six months of nothing. Nothing between them but a phantom line of what they’d been to each other, once upon a time.

There is a crater in Lena’s heart, a botched excavation of the way she’d willed herself to forget Kara, to protect the two of them from the ruthlessness of her family. So she’d cored herself first, hoping to beat her brother and mother to the punch. Yet Kara had dug herself further into her heart, straight into her marrow. 

So she failed, in the end, to rid herself of the woman she’d loved with her whole being. 

But it’s gotten easier, in a way, existing in this reality where she had to deny herself the chance for happiness if it meant her happiness could live. 

Her family has continued to terrorize her, but she’s acclimated. Expected it, really. Their efforts of trying to eliminate the few people who have been able to reach the fortress of her heart have now since changed to recruiting her into the fold of the family business. 

She now only functions to keep L-Corp as an entity of good despite her family’s best attempts at compromising her work. It’s fine, because she has accepted that her work will be her life. Her love—her grief—has become the shape of late nights in front of her computer, of half-filled decanters as she oversees expense reports, of dry-cleaned power suits and a lethal red lipstick as armor worn in superfluous business meetings. 

It’s worth it, she reasons, when she catches sight of Supergirl zooming past her window to save the day once more. 

—

Lena should have known that Lex and Lillian are simply biding their time until they strike. The last couple of months of relative quiet was not a sign of reprieve. So when the glass of her office doors break and splinter into tiny crystalline pieces, her heart aches not in fear, but in disappointment. 

She’s never had a death wish and would never wish this hurt upon herself, but the amount of threats to her life has surpassed her age. She thinks that maybe if both Lex and Lillian simply just got it over with, that she can get some goddamn rest. But she knows why she fights and why she keeps going. If only to spite her family, if only so that her sacrifice isn’t in vain. 

Another explosion erupts and throws Lena partway across her office, her head hitting the corner of her desk with a thud. She opens her eyes and her vision blurs, her head throbbing with pain, her body tense and sore all at once. Distantly, she can hear the fire alarm go off just as the sprinklers start shooting off water and flooding her office. 

She attempts to stand and find an exit, but her body betrays her intentions, buckling under her weight as she’s sprayed with water all around her. She falls onto her knees and subjects herself to crawling towards the exit with only but reckless determination and an almost-extinguished hope that she will make it out of this alive. 

Before she can take another step forward, there’s a whooshing sound that fills her already ringing ears and suddenly, warmth envelopes her. 

She sighs in resignation and gratitude when she feels the familiar weight around her. Lena knows before she opens her eyes what has engulfed her so safely, so securely. It cuts her heart just as it heals it, and she is in a loop of pain and joy. 

She wants to open her eyes, truly, to look into ocean eyes and a field of golden grass. But she is in pain and she is hurting. Her only course of action is to keep her eyes closed as strong arms grab hold of her—gently, always so gently—and whisks her out of her now compromised and ruined office. 

—

When she comes to, she finds herself in a secluded and private examination room of the National City Hospital, discretion of the highest priority as a prominent public figure. It’s one she’s been in before, from a past attempt at her life. It’s almost something like a comfort, this familiar space that has seen her bruises, cuts, and scrapes. 

The door swings open and she hears Kara behind her begin to make her exit. She doesn’t look up but when she catches sight of the red cape just by the bed, she holds up a hand and stops the movement altogether. 

She only lets go when the doctor looks down from her clipboard and settles on the rolling stool, the creak of the leather as she rolls closer to Lena. 

She allows the doctor to do what she does best, intently listening to the sound of the squeaking stool and the crinkling of the paper of the examination bed as doctor works.  

A mild concussion, some cuts and bruises. It could have been worse, she’s told. It always could have been worse and she wants to yell at Dr. Shapiro that this feels pretty close to the worst. Still, she listens carefully as her doctor explains how fortunate she is for surviving after the second and third explosions completely decimating her office. 

“Third explosion?” she asks, this information brand new to her. 

“Mm,” the doctor hums. “The second blast was the reason for your concussion, but according to reports, the third blast was close to you and would have knocked you prone and done serious damage had you not found cover.” 

Lena tries very hard not to twist her aching body and look over her shoulder. 

“Thank you, Doctor.” 

The doctor looks at her meaningfully before glancing over Lena’s right shoulder and placing a hand on hers, squeezing, and then letting go. 

The door closes with a quiet click, but instead of an exhaled deep breath, she holds herself tense. She shuts her eyes and listens to the way the superhero makes just enough noise so Lena knows where she is. First, from the chair she’d been occupying, then the sound of boots against the linoleum flooring, then the swish of the cape as it catches against the corner of the examination bed and back down again. 

“Where can I take you?” 

She opens her eyes to the setting sun, to saltwater ocean, to a small smile she hasn’t allowed herself to witness in six months. 

She doesn’t know what’s safest, what her family is planning, what the total damage is. She needs her phone, she needs access to her company, she needs—

“Can I go with you?” is what she says. 

Kara studies her, like the horizon staring back, and nods. She opens her hand, the thumb loop of her suit wrapping around her palm, and offers it to Lena. 

She takes it, sliding her unsteady hand in place and breathes when Kara clasps their hands together. 

—

Kara’s apartment smells the exact same. 

She does not comment on this, though it’s the most prevalent thought in her mind. Kara lets her walk in first, speeding to the lamps and switching them on until the apartment is bathed in faint golden light. Fitting. 

“Get cleaned up. I’ll have some spare clothes for you right outside the bathroom.” Kara passes her a towel, and she hugs it to her chest. 

The water scalds her skin, stings the open scratches and cuts. And she revels in it, her alabaster skin reddening under the downpour of it. She savors it until the shower sputters a little and the hot water becomes tepid then becomes cold. She squeals and jumps away, hitting herself against the side of the shower stall and knocking half of the soaps and hair products off the shelf. 

Kara is there in an instant, opening the door and getting soaked herself, trying to protect her. 

Naked and broken, she looks up to the setting sun that is Kara’s concerned face, and then she starts laughing. 

“I—the hot water ran out.” 

Kara exhales, that cold water matting down her hair on her forehead as she protects Lena from the downpour. “Sorry, I never did call the landlord about it.” 

She turns off the water behind her and steps out of the shower stall to pick up Lena’s towel for her. She opens the towel and turns away. 

You’ve seen it all before, she wants to say, but doesn’t. Instead, she takes the towel and wraps it around herself, the cold beads of water from her hair clinging to her neck, her shoulder blades. 

Kara steps aside, offers her a shy smile, and leaves wordlessly. Lena listens to the way she walks around the apartment, the clattering of the plates on the table. 

She steps out and smiles when she finds spare clothes placed on a stool right outside the bathroom door. 

When she next steps out of the bathroom, she is wearing Kara’s oversized shirt with a faded cartoon drawing of National City State Fair on it and a spare set of her pajama pants that she didn’t realize she’d forgotten, she'd thought Kara would have gotten rid of. 

The spread of Chinese food on the coffee table is modest, but familiar. 

She takes a seat in the spot she once proclaimed as hers, and accepts the plate from Kara’s grasp. They eat in silence with only the sound of the television playing on in the background. 

Kara watches her—studying her, Lena’s sure—but doesn’t say anything. She talks about her week because Lena had asked, and so she gives it to Lena. They clear their plates, then she trails after Kara to the kitchen, parking herself on the kitchen island. Kara seems to anticipate her and passes a pint of Cherry Garcia towards her with a spoon on the lid. 

“Good for concussions, I heard,” Kara offers, a twitch of a smile on her lips.  

She laughs at that, surprised, but accepts the ice cream, opening the lid and taking a spoonful. “That’s tonsillitis.” 

Kara shrugs but takes a spoonful of her own Rocky Road on the opposite side of the kitchen island. So much of right now exists superimposed to how things had been before, how their lives had been so entwined, so integrated. It is unnerving as it is comforting, and Lena accepts that for today, at least, she has to accept the disorientation. 

Eventually, “here. I charged your phone. I’d call Sam first, then Jess.”

There is distance between them, far greater than the kitchen island in front of her, and it shows itself for the first time now, here. After everything.  

“Kara, I—” 

“I need to fill Alex in on everything. Let her know you’re alright. I’ll be right outside.”  

She nods, glances at her phone and the laptop that Kara slides across the kitchen island, and watches as Kara walks out the front door. 

For a solid hour, she works through everything she can considering her mild concussion. She touches base with her assistant, with her team, and finds that they have taken care of everything for her. She sighs in relief, shuddering into her hands when Sam and Jess let her know that they have everything handled, that all they want for her is to rest, that the investigation into her family’s attempt at assassinating her might finally have some legs with some information they’d discovered during the cleanup. 

She sighs, sniffling into the back of her hand and tells them goodnight before she closes her phone and sobs into her hands, the day finally wearing her down. 

She doesn’t startle when arms wrap around her, the press of a strong body kneeling in front of her as she cries into the crook of Kara’s neck. She grabs fistfuls of Kara’s shirt as her tears soak through the cotton. 

Kara only holds onto her, rubbing her back and gently cradling Lena in her arms. Soft shushing filters through Lena’s ears and she sobs further into Kara, hoping Kara can just absorb her entirely, as if that’s the only thing that can protect her—from her family, from the world, from herself. 

Her sobs lasts and lasts, a never ending fountain of all the tears she’d shoved back in, a dam bursting now that she’s allowed herself.

—

Kara carries her to the bed, quietly ushering her under the covers just as she sits on the edge of it. 

“You saved me,” she says, her voice coming out slightly congested.  

Kara brushes her hair behind her ear. “That promise has never changed.” 

“They’re never going to stop, are they?” 

Kara shakes her head. 

“I thought by letting you g—” she huffs, turns away. “I thought I was protecting you. I was trying to do the right thing.” 

Kara grabs hold of her hand and places it on her lap, her fingers fiddling with Lena’s palm, but doesn’t quite look at her. 

“I’m afraid that the only times I will see you, I’m trying to save your life. And I—it worsens when I think that I can’t make it.” 

Lena watches Kara’s beautiful profile, the expanse of her forehead, the slope of her nose into the curves of her lips and down her jutting chin, trembling slightly in the faint light outside the bedroom curtain. Then she sees the bob of Kara’s throat, a single tear falling into the center of her palm. 

Kara’s facing her now, and Lena brings up her other hand to wipe Kara’s cheek. 

“I missed you, Lena. And I don’t know what I will do if I can’t make it to you in time, I—” 

This time, it’s Lena who pulls her close, wrapping the arm that Kara’s been focusing on around her front as she cradles Kara in her arms. “I’m sorry, darling,” she says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.” 

Kara then turns in her arms and they embrace one another, both hiding in each other. 

The tears stain and soak her neck, but she lets it, welcoming Kara’s weight after months of being so untethered. 

“Please, just come back to me,” Kara says into her skin, muffled words that hold so much promise. “Let me take care of you. Let me protect you,” 

Lena pulls back slightly. “You’d still—you’d still want me?” 

“Let me love you again, Lena.” 

Unable to hold her own tears back, Lena pushes forward until their lips meet. She angles her head and Kara kisses her back, the pair of them holding each other. 

There is an ache to their reunion, but there is healing, too. And Lena remembers, unbidden, Dr. Shapiro’s words. It could have been worse, she’d heard. 

But Lena wants it to be better. She deserves at least that, for all of her troubles, and if her family will aim for her and all that she loves, then she can’t hide herself in the shadows. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Tomorrow, she thinks, after the whispered declarations and the promises of more, of better, of a new day. Together. 

“I’m here. I’m here. I love you, too. I’m here.” 

[williamsonarssnal]

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 - J.F

MAKE YOU MINE ⸻ jessie fleming x bueckers! reader.

warning: enemies to lovers, toxic reader, hoopster reader, ucla jessie. English isn't my first language!

On the bustling UCLA campus, two stars shone brightly: Jessie Fleming, the ruthless striker of the football team, and Y/N, the queen of the basketball court. The rivalry between them was legendary, fueled by barbs and taunts at every chance encounter. Jessie saw Y/N as arrogant and annoying, while Y/N loved to poke the football player's sensitivities, mocking the "weak sport" she played.

Despite their declared dislike, an undeniable tension hung in the air between them. Every look, every word was charged with an electricity that their friends swore was disguised passion. Y/N laughed at the suggestions, finding them ridiculous, but deep down, something bothered her. Was it the intensity of the rivalry, the way Jessie made her feel… different?

Amelia, the girlfriend of one of Jessie's friends and teammate of Y/N, never missed a chance to mock the situation. "You two are obsessed with each other!" she would taunt with a mischievous grin. Y/N would feign indifference, but the truth was that Amelia's words made her uneasy.

On one training day, while Y/N was honing her skills under the basket, Jessie approached with a stern face. "Need some help with that kid's sport?" she asked sarcastically. Y/N rolled her eyes, ready to retort, but something stopped her.

Instead, she just stared at Jessie, their eyes locking for a long moment. An unexpected spark ignited between them, silencing the rivalry and making room for something new. It was a feeling Y/N had never experienced before, a mix of anger, admiration, and… maybe, just maybe, something more.

From that day on, the rivalry between Jessie and Y/N transformed into something more complex. The taunts continued, but now they were laced with a different undertone. They watched each other more closely, challenged each other more intensely, and each chance encounter was charged with an electricity that left them breathless. Amelia, witnessing the change, just smiled with a knowing look. "You two can't deny what you feel," she said, with a playful tone. S/n and Jessie exchanged uncomfortable glances, but deep down, they knew she was right. Night fell over the UCLA campus, and the vibrant energy of the costume party at S/n's frat house filled the air. The music pulsed, the lights flashed, and the students, dressed in creative outfits, let loose and had fun. And of course, Jessie, as the star of the women's soccer team, was dragged to the party with the rest of the team, but her mind was far from the chaos.

As she entered the venue, her eyes met S/n's. The connection was instant, as if an electric spark had run through their bodies. Time seemed to stop, and the world around them dissolved into a blur.

S/n felt her body shiver with excitement, but quickly regained her composure, trying to disguise the intensity of what she had felt. She quickly drank her drink, seeking refuge in the company of her friends. "Why are they here?" she whispered to Amelia, referring to the General and his team.

Amelia just shrugged, not caring much about their presence. She took S/n's hand and led her away from the crowd, towards the dance floor. "Let's have some fun!" she exclaimed, ignoring S/n's protests.

Jessie, still dazed by her encounter with S/n, watched them from afar. The desire to approach the basketball player was irresistible, but pride prevented her from taking the first step. She joined the rest of the soccer team, trying to distract herself with the music and conversations, but the image of S/n dancing with Amelia wouldn't leave her mind. The night went on, with music, dancing and lots of excitement. Jessie and S/n crossed paths occasionally, but their eyes quickly averted, as if they were playing cat and mouse. The tension between them was palpable, fueled by a mixture of desire and fear.

At the end of the party, when the lights came on and the students started to disperse, S/n finally took her courage in hand. She approached Jessie, who was watching her with an indecipherable expression. "Can I walk you home?" she asked, in a hesitant voice.

S/n smiled, a shy and hesitant smile. "Sure," she replied, before turning and heading towards the exit, with Jessie close behind.

S/n and Jessie walked side by side towards the soccer player's sorority. A comfortable silence hung between them, laden with a delicious anticipation. The party was over for them, but the electrifying energy of the encounter still enveloped them.

When they arrived at Jessie's sorority, she turned to Jessie, her eyes sparkling with a mix of shyness and audacity. "Thanks for walking me home," she said, in a soft voice. "It was fun."

Jessie smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her face. "I had fun too," she confessed. "More than I thought I would."

Another silence fell, laden with undeniable tension. S/n leaned in closer to Jessie, their faces just inches apart. She could feel the soccer player's warm breath on her face, and her heart pounded in her chest.

In a sudden movement, S/n leaned in and kissed Jessie. The kiss was soft and hesitant at first, but soon intensified, filled with passion and pent-up desire. Jessie surrendered to the kiss, her arms wrapping around S/n in a tight embrace.

The world around them dissolved, and for a moment, there were only the two of them. The rivalry, the doubts, everything disappeared, replaced by a deep and overwhelming connection.

The kiss ended as suddenly as it had begun, leaving both of them breathless and flushed. S/n smiled at Jessie, a radiant smile that expressed everything she couldn't say in words. Jessie returned the smile, her eyes sparkling with a happiness she had never felt before. She knew that something had changed between them, something that would bind them together forever.

"Good night, Jessie," S/n said, her voice hoarse. "See you tomorrow."

Jessie nodded, still unable to utter a word. She watched S/n go inside, her heart overflowing with emotions.

The next day, the sun shone brightly over the UCLA campus, heralding a new day full of possibilities. S/n, still glowing from the memory of the previous night's kiss, was walking through the park with Amelia, her friend and teammate. A wide smile was plastered on her face, and her eyes sparkled with happiness.

Amelia watched her friend with an understanding smile. She knew what was happening to S/n and was happy that she had found someone who made her so happy. The two were chatting animatedly, sharing secrets and dreams, when suddenly, Jessie and her girlfriend approached.

Jessie smiled at S/n, a timid and hesitant smile. She wanted to approach, wanted to talk, but S/n's distant attitude intimidated her.

S/n, on the other hand, completely ignored Jessie. She pretended not to see her, continuing to talk to Amelia as if Jessie didn't exist. Jessie's heart sank with the rejection, and a wave of sadness washed over her.

At that moment, a tall, elegant blonde approached the group. S/n, upon seeing her, ran towards her and gave her a warm kiss on the cheek. "Hi, love!" she exclaimed, with a radiant smile.

The blonde returned the kiss, her eyes shining with affection. "Hi, babe," she said, in a sweet and melodious voice.

Jessie watched the scene with jealousy. She didn't know who the blonde was, but the closeness she had with S/n made her deeply uncomfortable.

Amelia, noticing Jessie's discomfort, tried to ease the situation. "Jessie, this is my sister, Camila," she said, introducing her. "Camila, this is Jessie."

Camila smiled at Jessie, a friendly and welcoming smile. "Nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand.

Jessie hesitated for a moment, but then shook Camila's hand. "The pleasure is all mine," she replied, in a weak voice.

The conversation continued, but Jessie remained quiet and observant. She couldn't take her eyes off the blonde, and with each gesture of affection between her and S/n, her heart tightened even more.

At the end of the afternoon, S/n said goodbye to Amelia and Camila, promising to meet up later. Jessie watched the scene in silence, her heart broken. She knew she couldn't compete with the blonde, that S/n truly loved her.

In the days that followed S/n's rejection, Jessie found herself immersed in a sea of sadness and desolation. The image of the basketball player with the mysterious blonde haunted her at every step, feeding a feeling of inadequacy and insecurity. The rivalry on the court, which had once motivated and energized her, was now just a cruel reminder of lost love.

Trying to distract herself, Jessie threw herself body and soul into training and studies, seeking refuge in routine. But her thoughts always turned to S/n, to the radiant smile she gave the blonde, to the warm hug that enveloped them. With each passing day, the hope of winning back the basketball player's love diminished, leaving a huge void in her heart.

On a particularly difficult afternoon, unable to bear the pain any longer, Jessie decided to get away from everything and everyone. She grabbed her backpack and walked aimlessly through the streets of Los Angeles, seeking refuge in her solitude. The bustling city streets seemed blurred in her tearful eyes, while her thoughts drowned in a sea of doubts and uncertainties.

As night fell, her feet guided her to a quiet park, far from the urban hustle and bustle. Sitting on a bench, she watched the twinkling stars in the night sky, seeking some kind of solace in the vastness of the universe. The night was cold and silent, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves on the trees.

Suddenly, a familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "Jessie?", it was S/n, her eyes shining with concern and regret. Seeing the basketball player's figure standing there, before her, Jessie felt her heart pounding, a mixture of fear and hope taking hold of her being.

S/n approached slowly, her hesitant steps as if she were afraid of being rejected again. Her tear-filled eyes conveyed a deep pain, a suffering that Jessie recognized in herself. Sure, here is the translation of the text into informal English:

"I couldn't take it anymore without you," S/n said, her voice choked with emotion. "I love you, Jessie, and I can't imagine my life without you."

S/n's words echoed in Jessie's mind like a balm to her wounds. A shy smile formed on her lips as tears welled up in her eyes. She stood up quickly and ran into S/n's arms, hugging her tightly, as if she wanted to hold her there forever.

"I love you too, S/n," she said, sobbing. "I should never have let you go."

The day after announcing their relationship, S/n and Jessie walked through the UCLA campus side by side, hand in hand, as if defying the world with their love. The sun shone brightly, illuminating their smiling faces and infecting them with its positive energy.

Students' eyes turned to them with curiosity and admiration. The news of their relationship had spread quickly, and everyone was eager to see how the two most famous rivals at UCLA would handle the situation.

S/n, always outgoing and confident, seemed to be enjoying the attention. She waved to her friends, winked at the boys who watched her, and cracked funny jokes for Jessie. Her carefree and relaxed attitude was contagious, and soon everyone around her was smiling and laughing along with her.

Jessie, on the other hand, felt a little more nervous and insecure. She wasn't used to being the center of attention, and the idea of having all eyes on her made her a little uncomfortable. She stayed closer to S/n, seeking refuge in her warm and protective presence.

As they walked, S/n stopped in front of a poster announcing the next women's basketball game. She pointed to the poster and smiled at Jessie with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I bet you can't guard me," she said, in a challenging tone.

Jessie rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed by her friend's provocation. "Of course I can," she replied, with a defiant smile. "You know I'm the best midfielder on the team."

The two started arguing about who was the better player, laughing and teasing each other. Their friends watched the scene with amusement, already accustomed to the competitiveness that had always existed between them, even now that they were together.

Suddenly, S/n stopped arguing and looked at Jessie with a serious look. "But you know what?" she said, in a soft voice. "I don't care who's better. What matters is that we're together."

Jessie smiled at S/n, her eyes shining with love. "Exactly," she said, squeezing her friend's hand. "Together, we're invincible."

The two continued walking through the campus, talking and laughing, not caring about the curious looks of the students around them. They knew that their relationship was different, that it was marked by a rivalry that had turned into love, but also by a deep and unshakeable friendship.

They were rivals on the court, but accomplices in life. And together, they were ready to face any challenge that the future held.

However, the relationship between S/n and Jessie was not perfect. Despite the love they felt for each other, S/n sometimes displayed toxic behaviors that threatened the couple's happiness. She was jealous, possessive, and controlling, and her insecurities led her to constantly question Jessie's love.

One day, S/n saw Jessie talking to a teammate and, overcome with jealousy, accused her of flirting with someone else. The argument was heated, and S/n's words hurt Jessie deeply.

Jessie felt hurt and confused. She couldn't understand why S/n was so insecure and why she didn't trust her. She wondered if S/n's love was real or if it was just a facade to hide her own insecurities.

S/n and Jessie's relationship was on the rocks. If they couldn't overcome their communication issues and deal with S/n's insecurities, the love that bound them together could be destroyed.

S/n's infectious joy, which once served as a shield for both of them, now turned into a cutting weapon. Her teasing about being the "better player" became constant mockery, belittling Jessie's skills. S/n spent a lot of time with her friends, leaving Jessie on the back burner, and when they were together, S/n's attention was competed for by glances and jokes thrown at other players on campus.

Jessie, initially shy and happy to have won the basketball player's heart, felt a growing weight in her chest. The jealousy, which had once been a momentary insecurity, grew like a weed in her heart.

One day, after a soccer game where Jessie shone on the field, S/n didn't congratulate her. On the contrary, at the end of the game, she approached Jessie and, with a cold look, said: "Well, for a reserve, you did well."

The phrase echoed in Jessie's head like a slap in the face. She finally saw what she had preferred to ignore before: the toxic relationship that S/n cultivated. The healthy competitiveness that once existed had turned into constant disrespect.

That night, Jessie didn't show up for the team's celebration. Sitting alone in her room, she pondered what she wanted for herself. The love for S/n was still there, but the pain of being constantly belittled and disrespected was unbearable.

The next day, Jessie looked for S/n. She found her in the team's locker room, stretching before practice. With a choked voice and a heavy heart, Jessie said, "S/n, we need to talk."

S/n stopped stretching and looked at Jessie, surprised. Jessie, taking a deep breath, continued: "I love you, but I can't stay in this relationship anymore. You belittle me, disrespect me, and that's not love. It's… it's toxic."

The words came out hard and sincere. S/n was speechless for a moment, then tried to roll her eyes, the same old jokes on the tip of her tongue. But something in Jessie's serious gaze stopped her. For the first time, S/n saw the pain she was causing her beloved.

An awkward silence fell over the locker room. Finally, S/n broke the silence: "You're right, Jessie. I'm so sorry."

S/n's "I'm sorry" wasn't enough to mend what was broken. Jessie, despite the pain, knew she was doing the right thing.

With one last look at the girl she once loved, Jessie walked out of the locker room.

So this one got a bit long since I don't plan on having a part two, I got really excited! I ended up taking out Paige's name and putting an OC because I thought it would be easier to write, I was a bit bummed about it afterwards, but I'll make it up to you later. Thanks so much for reading, see you next time

I welcome feedback on my English, kisses

[peak-dumbass]

I felt like ranting about TFP/RiD2015 starscream’s character since I feel like a lot of people mischaracterize him, but this turned out to be much longer than I thought it would sooooo click if you wanna see my essay about the most disloyal second-in-command ever :]

So when talking about tfp starscream I hear a lot of his fans mention how bad the show was for not addressing megatron’s abuse of him and for not giving him a redemption arc where he recovers from it and becomes a better person or something along those lines

I don’t want to seem rude, but where the fuck did you guys get the impression that the show was ever going to do something like that?? Or even that starscream was ever going to be viewed in a remotely sympathetic light??? Cuz it definitely wasn’t from the show I can tell you that much

Now I’m not denying that starscream was abused, I do agree with that — but did you guys forget the context of why Megatron feels the need to punish him so brutally? Cuz every single time he does so it’s cuz starscream is trying to take his place as leader of the decepticons and, more often than not, trying to kill him in the process — like did yall forget that one of the first things starscream did in the show was plan to leave megatron to die in space after taking the only thing keeping him alive from his chest and the only reason he didn’t was because he was being spied on by soundwave?

I’m not stating that to say “megatron was right to abuse starscream”, hell no, but I’m stating that to say there was a reason for it in-show and it wasn’t to show that starscream deserves sympathy but to show how ruthless megatron is, especially to people that cross him like starscream

The whole “redemption arc” idea that some people like to cling to is what confuses me the most because are we talking about the same character here?? Are we looking at the same guy because so matter how you look at starscream, he was never meant to be redeemed

This is the same character that, throughout the entire show, is the only one to have killed an autobot on screen — and he did this in his first scene in the first episode — and actively brags about it on several occasions afterwards throughout the show

This is the same character that, when the autobots gave him one chance to see if he could be seen as an ally, couldn’t help himself from mentioning his murdering of cliffjumper to arcee — cliffjumper’s partner — and then using her anger and grief as way to escape, effectively making it impossible that the autobots would ever truly trust him again

This is the same character that, even after leaving the decepticons, can’t help himself from trying to murder megatron (to take his place, not as revenge for his abuse) and getting in the autobots way of stopping the decepticons

The fact that starscream’s seemingly favorite pastime in the show is Attempted Murder so he can become a Worse Dictator is something I think his fans gloss over much too easily — especially since they’re typically the same people that hate megatron for abusing him because starscream *checks notes* keeps attempting to murder him

The only reason why megatron keeps starscream around is because he’s more useful to him alive and working under him than either dead or working against him — and considering how many times starscream has attempted to murder him and has actively ruined his plans, I’m surprised he hasn’t killed him already

Even after all of that happens and starscream finally says “fine, I won’t attempt to kill megatron anymore” in season 3, he’s still ruining his plans with his pettiness and jealousy towards others like shockwave —

no matter what happens to starscream, he refuses to grow and change

— which is why I can’t understand where this “I can fix him cuz the writers refused to” mentality came from

He was never meant to be “fix”-able, at best he was meant to be a doomed character, a cautionary tale and/or a tragic villain — because no matter what happens, he keeps ruining things for himself and refuses to accept that, putting the blame for his failures and feelings of inadequacy on others like megatron or optimus when, in reality, it’s always him who is reason why he can’t be happy

And this carries over into Robots In Disguise 2015 as well, when he returns to be the villain of season 3 (or 2.5, it’s complicated)

He returns to earth so he can find all of the 7 weaponizer mini-cons and link them to himself to become all powerful so he can kill megatron and conquer the galaxy

I’ve seen some people say that “the writers had to add on the ‘conquer the galaxy’ part to starscream’s plan because then it would be hard to justify why the heroes would want to stop a victim of abuse from killing his abuser” and just —tell me you don’t understand starscream’s character without telling me you don’t understand starscream’s character

My Sibling in Primus, starscream has been wanting to do that since the beginning of Transformers: Prime, that’s literally his main reason for constantly wanting to kill megatron all the time — so he can take his place as leader of the decepticons, defeat the autobots, and then become the ruler of Cybertron

While I do agree that starscream wanting megatron dead for all of the pain he caused him is definitely part of his motive here, this type of revenge is never going to shown as a good thing, nor should it

Even after its been several years since megatron left the decepticons after being used by unicron, even after all of cybertron seems to have moved on from the war, starscream can’t let his obsession with killing megatron go — and that isn’t a good thing

Bumblebee confirms that starscream has been assumed dead this entire time, meaning nobody was chasing or hunting him down, nobody was trying to turn him over to the new cybertronian government for his crimes — he could’ve used this as a way to escape it all and finally start anew, find other ways to make himself better and happier after having to deal with megatron looming over him for so long

But he didn’t

He stumbled upon an old megatron plan for gaining power and couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t let it go, he refused to break the cycle and he has no one to blame for continuing it but himself

When he finds the Dark Star Saber and uses it, the sword resists him, with him saying that it’s because the sword doesn’t find him worthy enough to weld it since it can tell he isn’t megatron, but he tries to weld it anyways

I’ve seen one person try to interpret this as a way to say that “this means he isn’t evil since the sword that was made for evil is rejecting him” which is the dumbest take ever, but here’s my interpretation of what the Dark Star Saber’s rejection means

Ever since his first appearance on screen, starscream has been trying to be the leader of the decepticons, the most powerful, the most feared, the most respected — he wants to be megatron so bad it’s painful — and everything that happens to him is telling him that he isn’t

But he refuses to accept that — of course he doesn’t, he’s starscream, megatron’s most disloyal second-in-command — and that’s all he’ll ever amount to as long as he walks his road of selfishness, anger, and revenge

And that’s what he does until he’s defeated again by Bumblebee and his team, because if there’s one thing that remains constant for starscream that isn’t his favorite hobby of Attempted Murder it’s his refusal to grow and change as a person

[uzurimisery]

chapter 6: the fold. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Rating: Explicit

WC: 5k

Warnings: MDNI, he's still insane and possessive, he's not a good guy but he's hot, not beta read

The time between then and the engagement party had felt short, going by too quickly, a whirlwind passing through you. It would be wrong to say you weren’t nervous, the sensation gripped you holding you close. Even if you did believe Coriolanus was sincere in his desire to be allies trusting him was another matter. Alliances were often forged with hidden motives.

You had seen firsthand the ruthless ambition that drove people to betray their allies, you had done the same, sacrificing presumed loyalty for personal gain. Trust was but a fragile illusion that could shatter in the blink of an eye. A fact made all the more apparent by your illusory relationship with him.

Despite the reservations, you were drawn to him. His ruthless and cunning nature mirrors your own, and there was no denying the sexual attraction between you both. But as the day of the engagement party loomed, the agitation never ceased.

You were about to take a leap of faith, place your life, your very future, and marry a man who had once been an annoyance to you. Yes, you had brought him back to the Capitol, but he had been more annoying than you thought. There was some hope, however. Coriolanus had recognised your strength, your potential, and he had been the one to extend the hand of allyship. Besides, as long as one of your parents lived he be hard-pressed to betray you.

A pin prinked at your side.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Tigris exclaimed as she rushed to soothe the wound. Her hands were cold against your skin.

“It’s alright. Hardly imagine it was intentional.”

“Of course not.” She was quick to get back to work, doing up the final adjustment stitch to ensure your dress fit perfectly.

It was simpler than Tigris had wanted it to be, insisting that your engagement party dress should be grand. You were able to convince her to focus on the wedding dress instead, which you were grateful for. Tonight could be simple, less caught up in the extravagant happenings of the Capitol. So your dress was simple. White silver chain mesh with a nude underdress and a solid white cape.

As she backed away she spoke again. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” you admit, gently passing your hands over the soft fabric of the cap. Despite the simplicity, it was elegant. Slightly understated, but it suited you.

Her eyes were lit with concern. “Don’t be,” she was reassuring, voice laced with genuine warmth. “You look amazing.”

Looking great and feeling great were different things. Tonight, you weren’t sure if you’d be feeling great.

“Thank you Tirgirs,” your voice was thick with emotion. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Are you worried about him?” She was quick to pick up on your actual concern. Coriolanus Snow.

You steeled your gaze in the mirror and straightened your shoulders, trying to regain composure. “How could I not be?”

“He cares for you…” she trailed off. “At least I think he does. He’s different with you. More like the boy I grew up with and less, well, like he is now.”

You studied your reflection, searching for any sign of turmoil within. Your hair was in order, your makeup flawless, and your dress impeccably tailored. There was not a hint of emotion showing. Perhaps the shadow of the boy Tigris knew was the glimpses of warmth that you could feel from Coriolanus.

“I care for him as well.” The truth was easy, you did care for him.

Tigris paused. “That’s good then. The only thing worse than a political marriage is one where you hate each other,” her voice held a touch of sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you turned away from the mirror. Speculation would be endless, but tonight you needed to focus on the present. Standing there trying to determine, or wish, that there was the chance for you and Coriolanus to have something real, reach your goals and build the lives you want, and have something real. The past year had been messy, with a constant fluctuation of feelings but between the lines moments had felt true. When the two of you were alone it felt real to you.

Despite his previous explanation, you refused to believe that the shock engagement had been calculated as he claimed. Somewhere inside him he cared for you, you knew it, relieved it like gospel. Faithful to the higher power of emotion, praying that it was true. That he was capable of loving you like you loved him.

“We moved past hate a long time ago.”

“That's good then.” Tigris paused for a moment, hesitating to ask the question, her eyes flicking over you. “Do you love him?”

“Love?” you echoed, voice breaking on the word.

“Yes, love,” she was persistent. “Do you love him?”

It was hard to love a man like Coriolanus Snow but you couldn’t say that you didn’t love him at this point. The months of closeness laid the ground for positive feelings, and at every turn, he surprised you. The soft touches, passionate kisses when you were alone, the unspoken emotions fogging up the air between the two of you-- they had fed the selfish desire within you to have Coriolanus to yourself. A need to have him by your side. Greedy passion clawing at your legs.

The model of love you had growing up was your parents. They weren’t a typical loving couple, unconventional in all manners, but they did love each other and worked as partners. Each picked up the slack where the other faltered. What you had with Coriolanus felt like that. The balancing act, the tipping of the scales.

There was a pause before you answered. “Does it matter?”

Your feelings towards him were inconsequential in the grand scheme. It’d be worse to have them thrown in your face and laughed at knowing that you would still be going through with the marriage for the sake of your ambition. Love and ambition were a dangerous mix.

“I think so,” Tigris was soft, hand smoothing out any wrinkles of your dress. “I’d like to think that you and I have become friends over the past year and… I’d like you to be happy. I saw what a loveless marriage did to my aunt and I don’t want the same for you.”

Her words broke you down, shattering the barriers you had up. She was always so gentle and caring, it felt like she had no ulterior motives whenever you spoke. There was one thing she wanted, and that was the best for everyone. Even Coriolanus even if she didn’t agree with his actions. Tigris was a kind and gentle soul, something so rare for the Captiol.

The truth bubbled over the surface, a moment of closeness so rarely felt. The feelings you had rationalized away, hiding them behind logic, spilling out. It hurt, like ripping off a bandage, stinging and sharp, exposing the wound.

“Must you have asked me this after my makeup was done?”You joked, trying to shake off the tears welling in your eyes.

“Sorry.”

You exhaled, breathy and burdened. “Love is a complicated feeling and a luxury I didn’t think I’d ever be able to afford. It’s hard to explain what I feel for him, I don’t even know if I understand the feeling myself. I know that I want him in my life, and the thought of him not being there, being someone I can depend on, makes me feel like I’m going crazy. He’s someone I know will always have my back as long as I have his.”

Tigris chewed on your words for a minute.

“So you do love him then?”

“If this is love, then yes I do.”

“Have you told him?”

“I can’t,” you stutter slightly. “It’d be risking everything over my feelings.”

“But do you think you can marry him without telling him? Go your entire life not telling him?”

You were terrified of that. Telling him was vulnerability and uncertainty, threading waters as the tide came in threatening to swallow you whole. Your feelings could cost you your ambition, your power, and at the furthest extreme, your life. But not telling him, marrying with this secret, was even more terrifying. Trapping yourself in a relationship with him where you could never truly voice your thoughts.

It was a cruel dilemma. The future you had always wanted, influence and control, and love. How could you risk everything for something so uncertain? How could you jeopardize everything for a man who might not even feel the same? But how could you wake up every day by his side, the feelings burning you, and expect to be fine?

“I’m afraid of what he’ll say, of what he’ll do, of losing him.”

“I know it’s easy for me to sit here and say you should tell him, but I think you should. If you do love him, you owe it to yourself to at least try.”

Her words held truth.

____________________________________

The grand ballroom of the Gaul estate was filled to the brim with the Capitol’s elite. The air seems alive with the hum of excitement, bouncing around the opulent decor, mingling with the clink of crystal glassware. Even the president, who had never been the same after the death of his son, looked to be enjoying himself. There had been no expense sparred for the engagement party, Coriolanus could only imagine what the actual wedding would cost. 

Surrounded by guests, Coriolanus found himself in the company of former Academy students. The conversation had been fine at the start, but the more that they drank to more it began to grate on him.

“You know I never thought you’d be the first to get married Coriolanus,” Apollo Ring hammered on. “I figured it’d be Florus.”

“Florus! I would have bet money on Io.” Domitia Whimsiwick chimed in.

Did they all have nothing better to do than bug him? The constant chatter, the forced camaraderie irritated him, like nails on a chalkboard they drug on and on. He knew that the party was about himself and you, but god did he hate having to put up with his former classmates. They thought themselves all to be friends, which included him in it. 

Of course, he engaged with them, laughing at their jokes and acting like he cared about the conversation. The whole like he was surveying the room, waiting for you so he could finally have an excuse to dismiss himself from the conversation. After 15 minutes or so, he finally saw you. 

Somehow, you had gotten more beautiful. It was a subtle shift in appearance, a change so small but it made you even more attractive.

Your hair was down, curling down your back, a change from your usual updos. Previously you told him they were “more practical” for working in the lab, but he did love it when your hair was down. He watched as you flitted from guest to guest, thanking them for coming with your signature red lipstick smile. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a genuine one, breaking through his front. 

“Apologies everyone,” Coriolanus placed a hand on his chest and gave a slight bow. “The future Mrs. Snow has arrived.” The group wished him well, a few jokes about him being whipped, and went back to talking amongst themselves as he left.

His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The closer he got to you the more the feeling of contentment, something he rarely if ever experienced, settled in his stomach. 

“You look stunning,” he spoke while wrapping an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead, conveying the tenderness he felt. Then with practise poise, he greeted the guest you were speaking to. “You should wear your hair down more.” 

You smiled up at him. “Why thank you, Mr. Snow,” if hearing your voice was the reward he got for suffering the others, he’d suffer a thousand lifetimes. “I was just speaking with Mrs. Thornton about how you’re such a charmer.”

“Guilty as charged,” Coriolanus laughed a bit while turning the conversation the the older woman. “How could I not try and charm her when she’s this beautiful?” 

“Oh, young love! I’ll leave you kids alone. Congratulations on your engagement.” 

Coriolanus wanted to snatch you up and take you away from here. This was the part of politics he hated the most. The show of it all. Unfortunately, he was obligated to remain here until the last guest exited the building. His arm tightened around your waist, fingers drumming against your side. 

“How long do you think this will take? I’ve had my fill of pleasantries and if I have to listen to Gaius speak again I might lose it.” His exasperation at events often entertained you.

Your laughter, a melody from the heavens, danced around the air, drowning out the ringing hum of conversation around you both. “Patience, Coriolanus. This whole thing is just for us, so probably be a while before it ends. It’s not like we can sneak away either.” 

“You’re the only reason I tolerate these events, you know,” he whispered in your ear, watching the shiver run down your spine as he did. “Otherwise I’d have no problem avoiding them.” 

“Well now, that doesn’t sound like a man who's excited to get married.” Your eyes met his own.

“To entertain over a hundred people at an engagement party? No, I’m not excited about that. But to get married to you? That’s another thing altogether.”

There was sincerity in his words. As much as he hated the required socialising, he was excited to marry you, to finally have a visible form of ownership of you. The prospect of sharing life with you added to that. He could taste the future on his tongue. One filled with you, laughter, and love. One where the two of you sat upon a gilded throne and ruled over Panem together. 

“Are you excited then? To marry me?” 

Warmth blossomed in his chest as Coriolanus gazed into your eyes. You were letting him see through the cracks and into your anxiety about the situation. You were still worried that he regretted the choice.

“Of course, I’m excited to marry you,” he admitted, voice soft and sincere, twinged with longing. “Who else can I trust to take over Panem with besides you?” 

There was something in your eyes he couldn’t read, a flicker so quick he almost missed it. Something was wrong. 

“First we have to endure this engagement party, don’t we?” you replied, cutting the conversation, while moving the two of you to continue flitting around the room and greeting guests.

It drug on for some time before finally everyone had been ushered into the gardens and the ballroom transformed into a dining experience. Coriolanus was glad, it meant there only be a few more hours until he was finally free from the party. 

The ballroom had been completely transformed in just 15 minutes by the staff. Where there had been ample room for dancing, was now tables filled with placements and decor. The lighting had been lowered, with candles placed on the tables to better illuminate them, creating a romantic and intimate space. He had to admire the efficiency of your family’s staff as another team of them began leading guests to their assigned seats one by one. He, of course, would be at the table at the head of the room, next to yourself, and with both of your families. 

After all the guests had been seated, Mr. Gaul rose and tapped against his champagne flute with a knife. He was well-dressed as usual, this time donning a black suit with white embroidery around the lapels. It was interesting that despite Dr. Gaul’s more prominent status, your father took over the majority of the public-facing events. Acting as her mouthpiece at a lot of them. 

“Welcome, welcome everyone,” he boomed as a hush fell over the room.“I want to thank you all for joining us here tonight in celebration of what is bound to be the most influential wedding the Capitol will see this generation. And I’m not just saying that because it’s my daughter,” he spoke with a sly smile, making the guests chuckle. 

Mr. Gaul paused, taking a sip of champagne, his eyes lingering on Coriolanus.

“Like any father, I had doubts on if Mr. Snow would be good enough to marry my daughter, but my doubts have been laid to rest. I’ve been lucky enough in my life to see love in all sorts of forms, and am glad to see the love shared between him and my daughter.” Coriolanus nodded at him, giving your hand a squeeze on top of the table where they were joined. 

“Before I talk your ears off, my wife has a few things to say.” As your father sat, Dr. Gaul rose. 

“Thank you all again for joining us this evening,” her sing-song tone echoed over the silence. “It truly is remarkable to witness the union between Gaul and Snow, two strong and powerful families coming together not for the sake of Panem, but for the sake of love.” Dr. Gaul's arms were wide as she faced the guests. 

“With their love, I have no doubt this union will create a new era of prosperity and power for Panem,” she continued, resonating with pride. “Coriolanus, my sweet Y/N, you are the future of this nation, and I am confident that your union will lead us into a brighter, more prosperous future.”

The room erupted in applause, whistles and cheerings cutting through. Coriolanus felt drawn closer to you at the moment, your hand in his sending a jolt of electricity across his skin and through his veins. The implications of your marriage were transparent. Once the two of you were wed, even now before that, it was clear that the future of Panem was dependent on the two of you. To the untrained eye it was a beacon of hope, a promise of prosperity, unknowing that Coriolanus and yourself were ruthless. You would rewrite the narrative of Panem, and transform it into something of your choosing. 

Beyond that, it was finally having you to himself. No more barrier between himself and access to you. It was a victory. His gross and sickly feelings of obsession, lust, and love, are being rewarded after months of wanting you. Your attention, your affection, your very being his. You were his prize, his trophy, his ultimate conquest and he’d place you on the highest throne beside his own. 

As the cheering died down, servants came in with trolleys full of food. The air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, succulent meats, and vibrant exotic fruits. All just for the first course, as the guests began engaging in their own conversations, all of them sheep. 

He turned to you, voice low with anticipation, possession threatening to spill. “Soon all of this will be ours. Snow and Gaul leading the nation.”

You turned, facing him, big doe eyes peering up through your lashes. He wanted to make you cry again, watch the tears pool and trickle down your cheeks. It was neither the time nor the place, but he wanted to-- no needed to-- be inside you. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. 

“Tonight,” his teeth nipped at the ridge. “We begin our reign. We will conquer Panem, and we will rule it with an iron first.” Coriolanus pulled away, moving to give you a chaste kiss. 

When he kissed you, you didn’t smile into it like you normally did. You were passive, emotionless, simply going through the motions of it. A wave of uncertainty washed over him. What had changed in the short hours he had been apart from you? Why were you suddenly pulling away from him? He wanted to press you about the issue but this wasn’t the time nor the place. 

For the rest of the meal, it was all Coriolanus could think about. Worry builds with every passing minute. The gentle warmth you brought into his life now felt passive, and that passivity unsettled him. Your interactions over the past week replaying in his mind, trying to isolate the moment when the shift occurred. It had to be after you had left his side to get ready tonight. You had gotten ready with Tigris, so she could be the cause, undermining him.

The more he thought about it, the more the problem escalated. What had Tigris said to you? Did something happen while you were getting ready? The questions echo in his skull, overtaking his thoughts. Had it been something he did? Did he say or act out of place? The fear of losing your affection, coupled with the uncertainty of the situation, weighs heavily on his shoulders.  

Maybe you had learned the truth: his feelings for you. You had figured out his feelings and were pulling away to avoid addressing them. He knew that there was a very real chance that you were burdened by that truth. Coriolanus grappled with the fact that his attempts at subtlety had failed, exposing him and making him vulnerable. The fear of rejection, his emotions being laid bare for you only to be met with rejection, making him nauseous. 

When the meal finally ended and guests filtered out, you were missing. You had been by his side most of the night and had only gotten up to see out guests, just like he had. But now you were missing. 

Coriolanus walked the estate looking for you and failing. It was like you had vanished. 

He nearly screamed when Dr. Gaul appeared out of nowhere, startling him. “Looking for something, Mr. Snow?” Her smile is wide and crazed. 

“Yes. I’m looking for Y/N.” 

“How unsurprising. She’s in the greenhouse, and likes the solitude after events.” Just as quickly as she had shown up, she started to leave. “Oh! Don’t forget my warning Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus made his way to the greenhouse, driven by urgency and anxiety. If he could just explain things to you he could resolve the situation and ease his worries. As he entered the building, the smell of damp earth and flowers assaulted his nose, a stark contrast to the rest of the evening. 

There, amidst the foliage of a massive monstera, he found you seated on a stone bench, your shoulders shaking. You were crying. The sight of it stabbed his heart as he hesitated, unsure how to approach you. 

With a deep breath, he spoke, soft and slow, careful to startle you. “Y/N?” He watched you jump, rushing to swipe your eyes as he sat down next to you, your back stiffening.

“Sorry, just overwhelmed.” Your excuse was weak. 

“What’s wrong? You can talk to me.” Coriolanus was not a man who pleaded or begged, but he would be a beggar if it meant calming you. 

“Can I?” You looked so small in this moment, fearful like a child. 

“Of course you can.” 

Instead of soothing you, you only began to cry more. He felt so helpless watching your tears fall. His control and composure crumbled with every tear. The usual confidence he had waning. He wanted to understand the cause of your distress, understand why you had been so different tonight, but the answer felt further away than it did at the start. The need for answers was overshadowed by the need to make you stop crying. 

His hand grabbed your own, running his thumb over the top of it as he often did. “Y/N, I want to help. Please just tell me what’s wrong?” for you it felt normal to beg. 

He wants Coriolanus Snow in this moment, he was just a man, earnest and sincere, watching his lover cry and unable to comfort them. The weight of your sadness pressing against him. All he wanted was to find the right words, the right actions, the right anything, to bring you comfort and make you smile again. 

“I just need to know if this is real. If I’m safe with you. If you don’t view me as another stepping stone. Because I can’t stay here, keep doing this with you, if you don’t feel the same way. It’s eating me alive.” your body wracked with sobs. 

He could only watch. Coriolanus had never seen you so raw and exposed, your shoulders trembling. It was you letting him in, in every sense of the word. This is where he had to put himself on the line. Did he have enough courage to trust love one more time? To be this close? To let you see the most broken and paranoid parts of himself? To lose control?

This is what he had wanted. You broke down and begged him for the truth, your own feelings finally exposed for him. He had wanted you so overwhelmed with your own feelings that they damaged you the way his own did. But not that he got it, had you are your lowest, he hated it. Coriolanus hated seeing you cry because of him. 

The decision was agonising. Fear of failure, fear of being exposed, but more so, the fear of losing you. Sitting here, listening to your choked-up sobs, mascara beginning to stream, beautiful at your lowest. The silver gown that started the change in him.

He had played such a dangerous game; he lost to himself when he started seeing you as a person. You were supposed to be nothing to him, another pawn, a reason for your mother to further his trajectory. How was he supposed to know that you’d be so perfect for him? Your strengths cover his weaknesses and his yours. Genuine connection, not possession. A revelation.

He would starve if he only ever ate on Sundays. He would starve if only had you on Sundays.

With a trembling voice, Coriolanus spoke, a final confession of his own feelings, of his sins. “I only want this with you.” his hands held your face forcing you to lock eyes. His eyes are bare of any calculation and ambition, just the depth of his feelings for you. “I look for you, always, and in everything I see. You’re in the grass, in the trees, in the lab, in everything, you’re everything to me.”

The tears streamed down your face, and he wiped them away. He was crying now. They blurred his vision, but you shone through it all. He kisses you, soft and tender, before continuing. 

“I’m so incredibly flawed.” his voice was thick, the self-doubt that whispered in his ears at night leaking out. “I don’t deserve you, and I could never deserve you.” 

“You’re death and rebirth to me. My reason to forgive, to let someone in. And every time you leave my side it’s like the world around me dims, and nothing shines anymore. It gets harder to breathe.” 

You tore down his defences and stripped him of protection. 

“I told myself I’d never let someone in like this again, to make room in my heart to house your own,” speaking it out loud felt like ripping off a bandaid. 

“But I’ve never felt this way for someone before. You’ve changed me, altered me so deeply that there are parts of you that took over parts of me.”

You had changed him and made him feel compassion and empathy again. The dormant emotions he swore off now are reborn and only for you. Your being had seeped into every aspect of his own, forever informing him of you. At this moment, Coriolanus’ soul naked and in front of you, the final walls came crashing down. 

“I was just so scared to admit it, to give away my final card. To admit that it all has no meaning if you’re not there beside me and that I need you to make it matter. But it’s more than that. I was scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way. I can never tell what you’re thinking, never control you like I can others, I just have to trust you.”

It hurt to expose himself. The kind of hurt that felt good. A cut on your hand that you can't stop picking at. A bruise that you prod. When you push yourself hard at the gym and wake up the next morning sore. The dull ache of injury, a reminder that through all the pain, all the suffering, you were still human. He was still human. 

“I love you, Y/N. I have for months.”

His voice trembled, the admission hanging in the damp air. He had never allowed himself to feel love like this before, to surrender so completely to another person. 

“I love you too,” the relief he felt was instant. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, focus on something--anything else. But I realised that I couldn’t marry you without telling you.” 

Coriolanus’ hands cupped your face and he kissed you. Deeply and wholly. His touch was tender, filled with the very depths of his feelings for you, the kind that words could only partially convey. It was more than just a kiss, it was your soul's entwining. The acknowledgement that both of you had toiled over something for so long. There was no urge to control the situation, only to be in the moment with you. 

As you kissed, the greenhouses faded. It was only the two of you, hearts beating in unison. The act dropped, the lines were forgotten, and the actors were just people. The politics were irrelevant. It was just the two of you, as it always should have been.

@serrendiipty @namelesslosers @glitteryblizzardsalad @harrysbitvh123 @secretsicanthideanymore @ayyyeeeeidk @hinata7346 @kisstheskin @sumo-b98 @duds31 @mrsjobarnes @whorefortim @joonvrs @sabrinasbd @itsmeduckieee @dangelnleif

[mingsolo]

yeosang x reader (f) / g: crime au, arranged marriage, angst, smut / wc: 6.5k / warnings: guns, blood mentions, descriptions of violence, minor character death, general 'mafia' and crime references, language, sexual content / r: 18+

another fic for another now defunct collab that i decided to write anyways! ps. sorry for the banner, i had a free editor and a dream :')

It's a beautiful Saturday. 

The bushes and trees glow with that yellowish green shade proper to late summer. The sun is warm and it makes everything shine with a golden hue. You glance quickly towards your mother, she really knows how to choose the right date for the right parties.

As you bring your champagne glass closer to your lips, not sipping on it yet, the sight of the handsome man coming down the patio stairs behind your mom grabs your attention. He’s greeting and smiling warmly to everyone who gets closer to congratulate him. 

Kang Yeosang, son of your father’s biggest and longest associate; soon to be one, if not— the most influential name of crime in South Korea.

And now, your husband.

“You can’t deny he knows how to look happy,” the voice of your younger brother interrupts your thoughts as he slides beside you, taking a champagne glass for himself from the waiter's tray as they pass by. “But you still think he is too...” Chan makes a pause reflecting on his words, “Soft?.” 

You remain silent, your upper lip still slightly pressed into your glass. Your eyes don't leave your husband for a moment. Now he’s talking amusedly with your, barely older than you — stepmother, smiling and petting the two pomeranians she refused to leave at home for the wedding. He carries them like babies, smiles at them as your father’s wife shamelessly strokes his shoulder and smiles widely at the act. He puts the little dogs back in the ground and the furry things sprint around his feet as if he was their owner. He laughs heartily at the cute scene and it can be heard through the whole party. His laugh was low but gentle, warm and contagious. 

“He does seem, maybe too nice...” Chan adds, before getting distracted by the giggles of his new girlfriend coming from a few feet away. “Shit.” He says and sprints away to her. You glance over the scene, the barely overage girl drunk as a skunk hovering over one of your cousins. You chuckle as Chan disappears into the main house draggin the girl away from your cousin. Immediately your eyes go back to Yeosang. 

The more you stare at him the more he seems a stranger to the life you were used to living. He acts and looks softer and purer than every man in the room. You can hardly believe he has seen the surface of what this kind of life has to offer. But again, his father was one of the most ruthless men of the country, it was equally hard to believe he hadn't.

Barely a month ago, when your father gave you the ultimatum to marry someone powerful in the city, you had thought of Jeong Yunho first. Yunho, son of the chief of security of the capital, and an agent of the government himself. Both of them are corrupted and dirty even more than your own family, and half the “criminals” they swore to catch everyday. 

Yunho was also your classmate back at law school, your party sidekick and your tennis partner, one with an incredible hit. You both had a long relationship of business and pleasure. Sadly, he was already engaged to the Governor's god-daughter. Everyone knew your family and he had a long history of running dirty business under the table, but marrying? That would be too much for Yunho’s bosses at the government to turn a blind eye to.

So after a short thought, all cards fall back into the Kang family, the only family beside yours with enough influence and power in Seoul. When you were told the son of Boss Kang was back in Korea after spending most of his twenties overseas, you had no chance but to accept he was the one. 

It was a little troublesome, not knowing what to expect from him. But you would find out soon enough, or so you thought. 

You didn’t meet Yeosang until a week before the wedding, at a rushed dinner arranged by both families. 

The first time you laid eyes on him, all you could see was sincerity. He was polite, bright, witty and surprisingly fun. He had deep brown eyes and fine lips. On the left side of his face, he spotted a rather big beauty mark of peculiar shape. Beauty marks of that kind are usually unwanted and something to keep hidden, worse than scars, but the ones on his face framed it gracefully, like a fine accessory.

On him, there was none of the somber demeanor the people who have seen it all in this lifestyle usually had. At one moment he turned to you and smiled, understanding you might be cautious around him, and that confused you. You weren’t used to having emphatic men around you. 

“Here’s to an union that brings out the best for both our families.” He had said with a toast, and for a moment when he smiled softly at you, it seemed like the life you were about to have by his side was a normal, risk free kind of one. 

That was the first time you saw your now husband. This day, the wedding, was the second. 

“Lovely wedding,” a soft voice came from behind you. You recognized it instantly, looking over your shoulder to see the tall frame of Yunho getting closer. “You look so beautiful as a bride”. He raised his glass and both made a silent toast, still looking ahead to the patio. “I heard you are going to Greece for your honeymoon?.” he pouted slightly. “Very romantic.” 

“Now, who told you that?.” your eyes roll at him. You took the chance to glance at the expensive tuxedo he was wearing and how it looked maybe too good on him. It was really a shame you weren’t marrying Yunho instead, that trip to Greece probably wouldn’t have to go to waste.

“Chan did, but you knew that.” He smiled.

You glanced at your brother, who was now dragging his girlfriend back to the party, saying a few curses to your cousin as they passed by him. “Didn’t see you at the ceremony.” you turned to Yunho, who was shamelessly eyeing your cleavage. 

“Oh I just came to the party,” He licks his bottom lip “I couldn’t bear seeing you swore true love to another man, tears are not a good look on me.” 

You scoffed. “Doubt so.” 

He smiled, biting his bottom lip. “So, have you had time to get to know more about him?.” 

The sudden question made you arch your eyebrows. “Well, he is Kang Yeosang, soon leader of the entire Kang clan, owner of half of the dirty business in South Korea, what am I missing?.” 

“I guess there’s nothing else worth knowing?.”

You look back at your now husband, pursing your lips when you find him staring directly at you. He was a few feet away but you could feel his eyes on yours, it was just a second but it sent shivers down your spine. He then immediately turned his attention to his father beside him. 

“You alright?.” Yunho asks, raising his voice lightly as you zoned out for a moment.

You shook your head, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“When are you coming back from Greece?.” Yunho knows better than to try to push an answer out of you.

“Uh, we both need to get back quickly, so a week or so.”

Yunho hummed. “Will you call me when you get back?.” He said sipping on his drink without taking his eyes from you. You shook the sensation from before and chuckled. Men were really like kids. “Please?.” he added with a pout. 

“You got balls huh? You really don’t care, I'm married to a Kang now?.” 

Yunho turned to see Yeosang, now leaning attentively, as his father spoke to him closely. “Not really, should I?.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” you turned to your husband again, not really believing he was entirely harmless. His kind laugh resonated again. Comforting, contagious, and you smiled.

.

.

.

That same night you and your husband flew to Greece. You got there together, to the mansion owned by Yeosang’s father, a house big enough to fit a couple of families without a chance for them to cross paths for a few days. 

Yeosang gave you a brief tour of the mansion and said that every person there was your disposition for everything you needed. The only rule was not to get out to the city alone. He had business to attend to, of course, so after showing you around he left you and told you he would be back late that night.

He never did. So you spent the night getting familiar with the place, didn’t even bother to unpack except for your bathing suit and some toiletries as you knew you would spend all the time at the pool or sunbathing at the private beach, with your body guards close by all the time.

You got mad at first, as you too had matters to attend back home and decided to put them on pause for the trip. If he had stayed at least you could get to know him better, get an idea of who he was as a person, but he didn't show up for the next two days. 

You planned to return back to Seoul alone on a tantrum, but decided to just stay and enjoy the comfort of the mansion and the sea. Whatever the case, you needed a week of relaxation before going back to normal business. Yeosang or not, you knew people in the city and you could go out to the club or something. You had an arsenal of armed bodyguards to feel safe despite what Yeosang had warned you about.

On top of that, the thought of calling Yunho once you were back home ringed in the back of your head, so the wait was worth enduring. 

By the end of the week, after daily sunbathing and catching up with a few books, you decided it was time to have at least a night of real fun. You called a couple of friends, letting them know you were in the city and were in need for a night out. 

The night finally came, only a few minutes past nine.  Your shiniest and shortest dress is waiting for you lying on the bed. Right now in just your silk nightgown you were finishing with your makeup, when a sudden loud blast made you roll the tip of the lip gloss applicator over your cheek. Reflexes abruptly make you take out your revolver from the nightstand, walking slowly to the door paying attention to any noise. 

You glance outside through the glass windows, the garden lights illuminating the roundabout at the entrance of the mansion. There you spot the men guarding the entrance getting in an alert position, running towards the door. 

A couple of loud blasts more and you see two of them dropping on the ground. Quickly you turn the lights off and hide in the back of the room, the moonlight giving you enough vision to see if someone gets inside, your gun closer to your face pointing ahead.

Alerted, you hear steps getting closer. “Mrs. Kang, are you hurt?!”. A voice you couldn’t recognize shouted. Yeosang’s men were still pretty unfamiliar to you and this was definitely not one of your guards. 

You cautiously got closer to the door, gun still ready to shoot. “I’m fine.” you said. The handle of the door twisted as the man outside tried to get it open. “Tell me what is happening.” 

“Someone tried to get into the house, they are probably looking for you or the boss, they got the ones at the entrance.” 

You recalled one of your guards dropping on the ground a few moments back at the roundabout, and you sighed. “How many inside?.”

“A lot ma'am, we need to move quickly, please come out.” you could sense the man’s hurried tone on his voice.

“Where is my husband?.” 

The man got silent for a moment before shouting. “He’s on his way, but right now we need to take you to a safer place, they are probably after you as well.” 

Suddenly your cell phone began vibrating, it was over your bed, so you went to pick it up quickly. It was Yeosang calling. 

“Mrs. Kang?!” the man shouted.

You tapped to answer the call. “Don’t open the door. I’m close.” your husband's voice was calm and clear, you didn’t respond and he hung up.

The man kept calling you as he knocked on the door. Desperation showing with the force and pacing with each knock. You hid inside the back of the room pointing out again. After a few seconds of silence you got startled by the man kicking the door, opening it widely. You pointed at him silently, thinking the dim lights were hiding you and giving you time to have the upper hand.

“Gotcha.”

The man jumped at you, having seen your reflection by the wall mirror against where you were hiding. You shooted and missed, he took the chance to tackle you down. He roughly rolls your body facing the ground, hands at your back, gun point to your head. 

“You should have just opened.” he whispered to your ear, making you grin in disgust. 

“You better let go of me.” you glared at him, as he made you stand up and guided you to the door with so much force your arm was getting numb. 

“Or what?,” he chuckled, pressing the gun to your temple, hurting you. 

“Or I will blow your brains out”. 

Both the man and you looked up, the shape of Yeosang entering the room from the door frame, gun pointed at the latter. Two of his men behind him.

In the background, the shooting had ceased, apparently this man holding you was the last of the ones that had entered the house. 

“There’s none of your friends left here,” Yeosang said, confirming your suspicions. The man tensed against you, now practically choking you by having his arm on your neck. “Let her go. I won’t repeat myself.”

“Fuck you Kang, here’s a little message from-” 

The man’s last words were interrupted by Yeosang shooting his gun to his head, just a couple inches from your own. The loud noise made your ears ring, as the sudden force the man was applying to your neck vanished completely as he dropped dead. Blood and brain matter covered the top of your head. The cheek you had ruined with your lip gloss now covered in red. 

For a moment you groaned in disgust, falling on your knees trying to breathe normally again, soothing your neck from where the dead man was choking you.

“Get up. We need to go.” Yeosang gave you his hand and helped you up. The blood dripping down your neck made you nauseous and you couldn’t hold it any more. The last thing you saw before fainting was Yeosang’s eyes on yours, your name sounding muffled as you closed your eyes on him. 

.

.

.

When you woke up, you couldn’t recognize the room you were in. It was almost the same as the room you were in before. Big glass windows that reached the ceiling, greek decor and furniture. The light coming through the white curtains blinded you for a moment. When your eyes adjust to the sunlight, you look out, the Greece sea reflecting the sun rays back at it. 

Your head was spinning. Instinctively you caressed your neck. Carefully you got up towards the big vanity mirror placed in front of the bed you were laying on. No trace of blood or the rest of that ashole’s brain over you, yet remembering how it felt made you nauseous again. A few faded yellow and purple bruises painted on your neck. 

“You should go and take a proper shower.” 

Yeosang’s voice came from the door frame, where he was leaning on. He walked slowly inside the room, passing you by and looking outside through the window glass.

“Who cleaned me?.” was the first thing you asked.

“The maids.” He said calmly. “How are you feeling?.”

“My head is killing me. And now I have these ugly bruises all over my neck, definitely not the good kind.” 

Yeosang hummed, arching his eyebrows slightly. “How many times have you been in that kind of situation?.”

“A few.”

He remained silent, looking at you as you poured water into a tall glass. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, getting closer. “One of your guys from Korea told them where we were, I should have been there.” 

“What?.” 

“Jung Taein?.”

“Jung? No fucking way.” you chuckled bitterly.

“It’s my fault. You alone at the house made you an easy target.” He said ashamed, looking away. “It won’t happen again.” 

“Do you know who sent them?.” 

“Yes.”

“Would you take care of that?.”

“It’s done.” 

“Alright.” you added, finishing the water. 

“Let me know when you are ready. We are flying back to Seoul as soon as you are.” 

With that, Yeosang left the room, leaving you for the time being. 

The flight back was a silent one. Yeosang spent the whole time on the phone -yours was turned off. That was for the better. Your parents must be calling you non stop all morning. You took the chance to sleep more, since you were still a little shaken by the attack. 

As soon as you put foot at home, the whole day was turbulent. Both your mother and Chan were already waiting for you in the living room of your new mansion. They asked all kinds of questions again and again, making you dizzy. They both questioned Yeosang as well, making him swear that the guy who had planned the attack was more than dead. 

Your father showed up later that evening, and the whole thing repeated itself. He spent most of the time in Yeosang’s office, briefly asking if you were okay when he arrived. When he was ready to leave he stroked your head saying “The pig is dead, your husband took care of that himself.”

That night, laying alone in your new bed, feeling cold and anxious more than ever, you replayed the scene in your head over and over. 

“These mercenaries and their speeches, always thinking of themselves as movie villains.” Your father had said to you once when you were little. “Once they start talking, you have to shoot them.” 

As you remembered this, you felt like smiling. 

The next morning you got downstairs to have breakfast, surprisingly finding Yeosang at the table.

“Good morning.” He greets.

“Morning, oh what do we have here?.” you yawn, siting and finding a plate of pancakes and fresh fruit already served.

“You need energy.” 

“Mmh,” you giggle cutely, catching a glimpse of Yeosang's smile. He notices you noticed the gesture and he quickly goes back to his breakfast. “How are you feeling?. ' he adds, eyeing his plate.

“Way better.” you said, shoving a big piece of pancake on your mouth, “I need to get ready to go to my office.” 

Yoesang clears his throat, pensive. “I think you should lay low for a while.” 

“Isn’t the guy that attacked me dead now?.” you asked, stuffing a strawberry on your mouth as one of the maids poured orange juice on a tall glass for you.

“Yes.” Yeosang pressed his back against his chair. “But there’s other guys.” 

“What about you? Are you going to stay home as well?” your voice sounds annoyed but you don’t care. Yeosang looks briefly at you and then away. “So what should I do then? Stay hidden for the rest of the year here?.” 

“Just a few weeks, until we are sure no one else is onto us anymore.” He said standing up.

“You know, there will always be someone “onto us”.” you huff, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Let me know if you need something.” he said, giving you a nod and walking away.

“Seems like it's going to be you and me, girls.” you said to the two maids when he disappeared from the room. The women gave you a polite smile and you sigh.

That morning was the last time you saw him in almost four weeks.

Handling work stuff from the house was mad boring, and you started to feel claustrophobic. Rounded by security, you only had visits from your mom and Chan, sometimes your father or your new in-laws. The house was full of people all the time yet you felt completely alone in it. Suddenly you missed your office, your old apartment, your friends, anything but that strange house who you could barely call yours. 

But oddly and mostly, you were desperate to get laid. It was a bothersome sensation inside you, not being able to release the stress from everything that had happened within the last month from being recently married to a stranger to almost being killed on your supposed honeymoon.

So you did what you planned to do in the first place as soon as you were back, the only thing that would make you release the stress and clear your mind. 

Yunho called first, a few days after you arrived back at Seoul. The conversation was brief but he let you know he was available for whenever you wanted to see him. A month ago it seemed too recent to meet with him, but now it felt just about right. 

Finally tonight, after having spent a full month trapped inside your house, you and your friend decide to meet up.

Both knew you needed to be cautious; you are a recently married woman —and he, an engaged man. 

You decided to meet up downtown. You had an apartment there in one of the biggest hotels at the center of a prestigious but quiet district. You used it mostly to crash on when you partied regularly, so it was a familiar place to your guards. Yunho let you know he already booked one of the suits for the night, so he could just knock on your door without any trouble. 

Yeosang hadn’t called for a few nights, apparently he was attending some business in Tokyo with both your father and his. It was the perfect timing.

The night arrived and you finally went out. As you got ready in front of the mirror in the bedroom, anticipation started to build as you waited for Yunho.

You changed into a casual dress, and your favorite jewelry; a long pearl necklace that ended up in the right place at your cleavage. Hair styled in a messy bun, the best hairstyle to try when you knew it was going to end up disheveled — a trick you learned from your mother’s long sessions in front of the mirror when you were maybe too young to even understand the tip. 

You sprayed your favorite perfume on the right spots and poured a few drinks, preparing yourself to loosen up to finally enjoy a good night since you married, even if it wasn’t with your own husband. 

Midnight, and Yunho hadn’t shown up. You started to get annoyed. Sending him a couple of texts like; ‘Where the fuck are you?.’ and ‘Are you serious right now?.’ 

You were growing impatient, desperate. He had said late night but this was just too much. And why wasn’t he answering your texts?. 

You blew raspberries, lying back on the bed. Incorporating a little, you saw yourself in the tall mirror at the corner of the room. Your backless dress, makeup… you looked so good and now it was going to get to waste.

It was ridiculous that with all the power, money, a damn husband and a friend like Yunho, you were really struggling this much to get laid. 

Being almost killed —again, having your family on your neck all the time, the pressure of the business and people — had to deal with, and an absent husband you barely knew on top of that was starting to get to you for good.

Grabbing your phone ready to call Yunho, something you would never do being in your right senses, you hear a knock on your door. 

You sit on the bed automatically, fixing the wrinkles of your dress. “Fucking finally.” 

Walking towards the door, you looked through the peephole, immediately taking a few steps back. The man at the door wasn’t Yunho.

“What is he doing here?,” you muttered to yourself. 

“Are you going to open?.” Yeosang’s voice coming from outside made you come to your senses, he sounded different from the other times you two had spoken. Hesitating, you opened the door. His hair was down and parted in the middle, wavy strands falling at the sides of his ears. He was dressed casually, not in the usual business attire you have seen him in so far. 

Yeosang walked in, closing the door behind him. You looked nervously around, feeling suddenly exposed by your little outfit, and he seemingly read your mind, as he took his sweet time looking at your clothes, or the lack of them.

“What are you doing here?.” you ask, trying to sound casual. Suddenly the thought of Yunho knocking on the door any moment made your stomach turn upside down. “Weren’t you in Tokyo?.”

“I remember telling you no to go out yet, so the question is what are you doing here?.” 

You shrugged, feeling his gaze all over you. “I- was, going out…”

“If you wanted to fuck, you just had to ask,” he looked at you with a dark shine on his eyes. “I never told you you were allowed to be playing whore with other men, did I?”.

Your chest started to thump. This wasn’t the Yeosang you have known so far. He spoke harshly, but with a slight hurt pride that confused you.

“The fuck that’s supposed to mean?.” you glared back at him. “You haven’t talked to me properly since we married, you don’t even sleep at home.” you said, mimicking quoting the last word with your fingers. He glared at you too, walking towards you and hovering you against the wall. “Seriously, you won't even allow me one normal dinner and you think you have the right to tell me what to do?.” 

“I'm your husband.” he said dryly, “That should be enough.”

“A husband who hasn’t even fucked his wife once.” 

Yeosang scoffed. He looked at you with big eyes, deep brown eyes that shone differently from back when you saw them at the wedding. You were tense, that wasn’t what you wanted to reproach him for, but your brain was letting the words come out from your mouth without a second thought. “Were you waiting for that Jeong bastard to come here and fuck you? Are you that desperate?.” 

“Yes. Maybe I fucking am.” 

Just then, Yeosang tugged your chin with his hand, brushing the hem of your skirt with his fingers, slowly getting them underneath. His breath was hot and it burned against your neck. He leaned forward, brushing your throat with his lips, and then the tip of his tongue. 

“Well look at you, being all eager.” He whispered with a voice so dark you couldn’t recognize it belonged to him. 

His hand was now fully under your skirt, and his thumb brushed softly where you needed him the most. Your hips start rolling towards the contact, desperate for more friction. You pressed your lips together, restraining yourself from giving in so easily, but the truth was that you needed to be touched. Yeosang rolled his thumb over your damped spot, his gaze got cloudy, tongue resting on his bottom lip as he rubbed in circles on your clothed clit. He slides the lacy fabric to the side, gently pressing two fingers inside you. 

You let out a whimper, biting your bottom lip. Surprised at how he knows exactly how to curl his fingers upward, his fingers caress your center so sweetly, feeling as familiar as your own.

“You feel just like I imagined.” He brushes his words over your lips, kissing you softly. His tongue finally lands against yours, sending tingles all the way to your lower stomach. 

“You imagined?.” you moan against his mouth, and he slowly wraps his hand on your neck, making just the right pressure to make your closed eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Mmhh.” his voice vibrates over your lips, while he kisses you roughly and sloppily. He’s now adding a third finger deep inside you. You throw your arms at his neck and lift your leg onto his hip to give him more access. He grabs your leg with the hand that isn’t inside you, and continues fingering you with faster pace without stopping kissing you.

“Oh my god…” you cry when he begins scissoring and curling his fingers inside you. You let out a loud moan knowing you are done for and he stops kissing to see you as you come. His fingers keep going, gaze fixated on you as you shut your eyes and roll your hips making his fingers touch you even deeper. “Fuck, oh fuck!.” you whimper when he doesn’t stop and you start squirting all over his fingers. He looks down cheekily, seeing how you coat his fingers with your arousal.

Yeosang smiles, removing his fingers from inside you and making you open your mouth so you can taste yourself on them, when you finish he goes back to your lips, kissing you again. “So sweet.” he whispers, lowering your leg and helping you walk to the bed. 

He makes you lay on your back, taking your panties off and throwing them aside. He lifts the skirt of your dress and places himself between your legs. “Let me taste more of that.” He says, licking your entrance with one strip, as he starts devouring you entirely until there’s no trace of your release but the sweet sensation inside you.

“Fuck, Yeosang.” you moan, feeling the familiar knot yet again. He keeps sucking on you, your hand tugging his hair from the overstimulation. 

“Are you going to come again?.” 

“Yes!.” you cry, but whine immediately after when he stops eating you up. 

“Not like that.” He helps you get up, walking backwards as he sits on the armless chair next to your vanity, taking his belt off and opening the zipper on his jeans. He helps you sit on his lap, always looking at you as he does. Your heavy lids fall on him, admiring just how beautiful he is, and you wonder for a second if you have had a man like that before him. 

Your mind is still foggy, you feel breathless but you indulge in his instructions, glad he’s telling you what to do next. 

Yeosang guides you on top of him, and you observe patiently how he takes out his length and strokes himself a few times, making sure you look. He then tugs your dress down to expose your tits. He licks his bottom lip and goes to kiss one of them sweetly, one hand stroking himself and the other squeezing and licking your nips. You hear his quiet moans and whimpers, giving each of your breasts delicate attention. When he’s had enough, he aligns you on him and slowly pushes you until he has bottomed inside you.

“You really needed this huh?,” He chuckles darkly. “Such a tiny cunt.”

You whine at first, feeling stretched so deliciously for the first time in so long. You lean and kiss him, both your tongues tasting and savoring each other. The pearls of your necklace hang over his chest, the silver of your rings shine between his hair as you dishevel it. Yeosang squeeze and massage your nips with his palm as you take the time adjusting to his length inside you.

He stops kissing your nipple and signals you to look to the side, where you find both your reflections in the big mirror of your vanity, seeing your almost naked form sitting on his lap makes the sensation on your lower abdomen intensify. Yeosang slips your dress over your head, and you remove his jacket and unbutton his shirt hastily. 

“Show me,” his tone is low, hoarse. He cups your chin with force, so you are now looking straight at him. You flutter your eyelashes confused. “What were you planning to do with him?.” he asks, heavy lids eying your bottom lip. 

You bit your lip with force, somehow embarrassed that you already forgot you were supposed to be on top of Yunho. Yeosang smirks slightly, and even if the lights in the room are dim you catch that smile and it drives you mad how confident he is, but also makes you eager to show him. 

“Yeosang, please” you whisper breathlessly, kissing him again. A big open kiss on the mouth first, then going down to his neck, his shoulder blades. You were marking every inch of skin your lips could reach in your position. It felt as if he could suddenly evaporate if you didn’t. 

You start rolling your hips back and forth on top of him, moaning everytime the tip of his cock hits your sweet spot. Yeosang had both hands on your waist, keeping you in place as you rocked your hips at a slow but steady pace, not wanting to come too fast and just enjoy the sensation of having him buried deep inside you.

Yeosang’s whimpers quietly, but intensely. He lets a dry chuckle every time you remove yourself almost completely from him only to go down in one motion over and over. Your hands are on his hair, pulling the strands everytime the pleasure was too much.

He grabs your face and kisses you, biting your bottom lip and coating your entire mouth with his tongue, desperate to fill you connected to him in every way. He groans when you bite back, enjoying every little cry and whimper you let out. “All of this for him?,” he tugs your hair making you face him. 

“Right now I’m fucking you and you only.” you tell him, eyes falling down on you unable to keep them open. “You fill me up so well.”

Yeosang smiled cockily, going to your clit and rubbing his thumb in circles again, making you bury your head on his neck. “Like that? Is that what you wanted?.” 

“Yes!” you cried out loud, not caring at all if the guards outside could hear. His thumb and cock both send incredible sensations through your body, your release building up again ready to break out at any second. “Don’t stop please, I’m gonna-” 

You couldn't finish, feeling the knot in your lower abdomen explode inside you. Yeosang was quick to grab your hips so you stayed in place, and he helped you rock them faster, chasing his own. He looked at your reflection in the mirror. Head thrown back, nails digging on his shoulders, eyes closed and mouth full of whimpers and heavy breathing. You came and Yeosang followed right behind you, letting out the loudest moan since you started. His hands were now on your ass as you wrapped your arms around his neck, having come from your high. He bit your shoulder as he painted your walls with his load. Yeosang cursed under his breath, finally stopping until he finished inside you. 

“Yeosang,” you phanted, caressing his face and making him look at you. His eyelids were heavy, long strands of wavy black hair falling on his face, lips half open trying to catch his breath. “I needed that, fuck.” You waited until he was breathing regularly and kissed him roughly again, taking his breath away once more. 

Yeosang smiled widely and you recognized the sweet man that you married a month ago. The same soft and cute eye smile and seemingly innocent aura came back, transforming from the one that was guiding your hips as you rode him to oblivion mere seconds before.

“I've wanted to have you on top of me since I saw you at the dinner,” He said sweetly, brushing his nose against yours. “Wanted to have you cry my name and brush away that condescending look you gave me at the wedding.” 

You chuckled. “I didn’t know what to expect from you,” you paused, choosing your words carefully. “You seemed too nice for this kind of life, too pure.” 

Yeosang chuckled lightly, helping you stand up, finally removing himself from you. “Seemed?” He kissed your chin gently. “Not anymore?.” 

“Someone who fucks like this?, no way.” 

He lets out a loud laugh, hand covering his mouth. “Y/n, you should know no man is pure. Crime life or not.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

You stood up from his lap, looking around for your panties on the floor, but Yeosang pulled you against him, wrapping his hands on your waist, hiding his face in the space between your shoulders and neck. He kissed the skin there and you hummed, content and relaxed feeling the warmth of his lips. 

He guided you to the bed, laying beside you and leaning over you. 

“Why didn't you want to spend time with me until now?.” you asked, his big eyes shone brightly. “I thought you were avoiding me on purpose, no one is that busy.” 

Yeosang laughed. “Oh but I am. And soon you will be too, as my wife and associate, you will have to deal with a lot.” He lowered his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention to you, I wanted to, but after what happened in Greece I needed to make sure you were always protected.” 

“Did my father intervene?”

“I almost let his only daughter get killed mere days after our wedding, how does that make me look in front of him, of everyone?.”

You hummed but remained silent. You knew your father had already told him everything he needed to hear. “So I’ve been under surveillance all this time?.” You arch your brows, realizing that’s how he knew about your meeting with Yunho tonight. “Shit! Yunho… is he…?.” 

Yeosang chuckled again and this time it was an amused one. “He’s not dead, I still need eyes and ears close to the police,” His lips turned upwards into a mischievous smile. “But he won’t dare to come close to you with certain intentions, ever again.”

“Oh.” you said, pouting. “But he’s an excellent tennis partner though.” 

“I can be your new tennis partner, I can be everything you need me to be.” 

Yeosang kissed you softly, thumb caressing your ear. Your hands traveled over his chest, throwing a leg over his waist and you smiled on the kiss. He let out a soft “Oh” like a shy boy getting his first kiss and it made your heart incredibly warm.

“Who would thought we only needed to fuck each other dumb to break the ice huh?”. You joked, letting him keep kissing your neck and start all over again.

.

.

.

©mingsolo / please do not edit, repost, translate

[starliteonearth]

Feeling chaotic evil lately, might just lure in the tiktok locals & the booktok girlies by describing Ghoulcy scenes and their dynamic without dropping names 😈:

"She's a kind-hearted schoolteacher trying to find her missing dad but ends up getting taken hostage by an infamous bounty hunter after she inadvertently gets tangled up with his bounty."

"He's a ruthless immortal bounty hunter who gave up on love after being betrayed, wandering the wastelands, barely living until he meets her, his second chance at love."

"She's wary of marriage after being fatally stabbed by her new husband on their honeymoon until she meets him, a man scarred both inside and out by his own vicious betrayal."

Oooh, best one: "She savagely bites off one of his fingers in an escape attempt but he doesn't even get angry. He just grins down at her, eyes wickedly dark and pleased, and purrs, "there you are, you little killer." Going triple platinum on the clock app actually.

Some abstracts to really grab their attention:

"They're mirrors of each other, warped reflections, and it infuriates him as much as it intrigues him. He can't help but want to see her just as corrupted and rotten as him."

"She wants to look away from him, wants to deny the coiling darkness in her chest surging to match his, but she can't. Not when his blood is dripping from her teeth and her own blood is singing with righteous fury."

[liar-or-lawyer]

Donna wasn't sold on the new associate, Mike. When he requested help with paperwork, she saw it as a chance to show him the ropes (and the ruthlessness) of Pearson Hardman. Her initial tough act worked for a while, but Mike was unexpectedly charming. He wasn't a shining star, but his loyalty was undeniable. Donna and Rachel had both witnessed him defend Harvey's work ethic and even stand up for his new colleagues. Mike seemed to have a natural instinct for taking the side of others, perhaps a bit too readily. Donna guessed that the kid must think he was born to be a lawyer with the way he rushes to everyone's defense. Despite her reservations, Donna found her defenses weakening. She couldn't deny Mike's genuine efforts. There were mornings when Mike was late with his work, and if Harvey wasn't in yet, Donna would sneak it onto his desk. It wasn't a lie, exactly, but she wouldn't volunteer the information either. Harvey wasn't oblivious. Every time he picked up a late brief and saw Donna place it there, a knowing smirk played on his lips. Donna understood body language. Harvey's message was clear: "Let him get to you huh?" Of course, if Harvey dared to call her out, she'd point out his own growing fondness for the "brat." A raised eyebrow was enough to convey that message. Harvey, ever the coward, never brought it up. Mike, with his unwavering loyalty and dramatics, reminded Donna of the Titanic: a slow-motion disaster that inexplicably captured hearts. She didn't want to like him, but there was something undeniably magnetic about his tragic earnestness. Donna sighed, took a sip of coffee, and shuffled through her paperwork. There were other tasks to complete, tasks she didn't particularly relish. But as they say, there's a strange allure to the tragic, even when you try to resist.

[angriel]

Eywa's Chance: Found out Pt. 1

Warning: Widowed! Jake Sully, Warrior! Reader, Sexual Themes (will put signs), Angst, Absolutely Ass Writing, 17+, Violence, War, Chaos, Peace. Skypeople reader, Jake x Reader

This happens after Jake's Consciousness transfer.

Jake walks towards to the Tree of Souls where he always spend his sleepless nights, he's always so desperate to come here so he could finally reunite with his mate Neytiri. Ever since the 1st war of the Na'vi and the sky people everyone has lost so many including their Home Tree, they have relocated into the High Camp to avoid the RDA and keeping his people safe.

But every night he can't seem to make himself not go to this place, he always longed for Neytiri's presence. He quickly grabbed his Tsaheylu and as he made a connection with the Tree of Souls he closed his eyes. And there she was standing waiting to greet Jake, and when he saw her he prayed that Eywa will bring her back with him but he knew it was impossible.

Oel Ngati Kameie Ma Jake Neytiri Greeted him, he returned it and immediately hugged her. Neytiri didn't return the hug and he became confused. "Why are you not hugging back? Is it because you didn't miss me?" Jake smirked and playfully asked Neytiri, but nothing could prepare him for what she would say to him.

"Ma Jake, I think it's time" Neytiri said with a straight and serious face. Jake's ears lowered down as his tail lightly swung to the side, he's confused and thought what Neytiri said.

"Baby, what do you mean?" Jake Whispered, Neytiri shook her head and breaks the hug, she took his hand and hold it on her 4 fingered ones. "You need to let me go, find someone new and Rebuild our home." Neytiri said with sadness evident in her voice.

Jake knew that it is Neytiri's dying wish was for Jake to lead the people to safety, rebuild their home & find a new mate to build a family. "Babygirl we've talked about this. You're my only mate, my one and only" Jake Firmly said while staring at Neytiri's eyes.

"No! You must find someone! Ma hu Eywa salew tirea, (My Spirit Goes with Eywa) But your body goes with the people" Neytiri Argued, Jake remained silent as Neytiri turned so that she couldn't see his face.

"Go! Don't come back but please don't forget me" Neytiri said as she disappeared. Jake cried as he disconnected his Tsaheylu on the strand of the Tree of Souls. He Whistled for his Ikran and almost immediately it was in front of him. He mounted it and fly towards the High Camp as the sun rises.

"(Y/N)! Don't you dare do it!" said a voice from a transmitter, (Y/N) just scoffed to the command of a certain someone, the commander was not happy at her actions. She's a marine that was one of the few that were chosen to be in this program, this was never in her plan but when she saw how ruthless they killed the animals and the natives of this world she began to think twice and eventually leading her to betray her own kind.

"Do you feel proud? betraying your own kind?" the commander asked mockingly, "regardless of where you are, we will still find you, you can not escape our grasps" this was the last stretch she has heard from that transmitter before she took it off and threw it somewhere in the pandoran forest.

She never really cared about her own kind all she wanted to be is to be one of the people to be one of the Na'vi. she cannot deny that her own kind is greedy, and is willing to destroy everything just to achieve something that they have wanted and that is humanity. no matter who and what is on their way they are willing to destroy it.

(Y/n) is grateful that she has raised millions just to get an avatar body, stories of pandora always inspire her. to the point that she began thinking that she was born in the wrong body and she was born in the wrong kind, she can not comprehend why humans like to destroy something and that is one of the main factors why she feels like she is in the wrong world.

Thankfully she managed to sneak out a link pod and managed to hid it in the forest, she has spent many months on discovering a new place where the other avatars or the sky people hasn't discovered yet. she ran through the forest and expertly avoiding the obstacles that is in her way. you can not blame her for doing this she has tried to explain that destroying the tree of souls where the holiest and sacred place of the Na'vis will only kill the planet and its habitants.

But the narrow-minded humans doesn't understand the way eywa is connected through all, and it wasn't surprising humans have killed their mother nature back on earth and now they are seeking refuge in this world. only to repeat the history itself by killing Eywa.

After hours of running she has finally reached the link that she has hidden in the forest. she was certain that no one will find her and her dirty little secret, she went inside and laid down her avatar body at the huge bed she's been making the past few months and then proceeds to log out of the link pod.

She stared at her avatar body and proceeds to prepare herself a meal. She wonders how will she survive in this wilderness with only 9 months of food and water ration with her, she sighs as she picks up a book with for the language of Na'vi's as it is her dream to see and talk with a Native Na'vi. But she knew better, she knew that once a Native Na'vi sees here she will immediately die as they have a certain hatred to the sky people.

She kept reading and reading for hours quickly absorbing the content of the material in front of her until she feels her eyes need a break. She headed to the Link Pod again and logged her Avatar in, her consciousness regaining on her avatar self, she sat up and leaved the chambers. She gathered the materials to make a bow and a spear, and she worked for the bow.

After 30 minutes she finished it, admiring her work with the bow she's getting ready to make the spear when she felt a presence in her surroundings.

"Are you certain it's a single dreamwalker?" Jake asks Norm, he nodded "Yes, there has been 3 same reports on it and all of them was reported in a day" Norm confirmed and stared at Jake.

"Those Fuckers Ain't gonna give up on us don't they?" Jake bitterly spat those words out. Norm just remained silent and just left with Max. Jake felt his blood boiled as the memory of losing Neytiri and the home tree began to replay in his mind, he clicked his tongue from behind his teeth then whistled for his ikran. It flew down on him and he mounted it and then began to fly.

He put his hand on the Transmitter on his neck to contact Norm and said "Where did they spot this Dreamwalker?" and almost immediately he got the response that sent a shiver down his spine. "Near The Tree of Souls". He commanded his ikran to fly fast towards the direction of the sacred place of his people.

After a minute of flying he sees The Tree of Souls and noticed a chamber a few miles from it. He made his ikran land in the Tree of Souls and silently made his way to the familiar chambers he saw earlier, after a while of silent walking and jumping he finally reached the chamber.

He saw a dreamwalker, an avatar dressed with the sky people's clothes. He saw the imposter admiring her Self-Made Bow while smiling. He silently made his way on her back when he saw her ears twitched and he immediately jumped on her and locked her body while holding a knife on her neck. He breathed as he placed his lips on her ears and whispered

"Found you Bitch."

Part 2 is out now!

Eywa's Chance: Deja Vu? Pt.2

[amorgansgal]

A Marvellous Match

Wrote something inspired by my tav Scarlett from Astarion's perspective. But I've left out names, so hopefully anyone can enjoy this!

CW: Referenced sexual content, nothing too explicit though.

She’s got a mean streak and he loves it. The way her eyes narrow in distaste when Gale is overexplaining magic to her or the way Wyll is forever the hopeful optimist, and she bites back. That look they share when someone has said or done something stupid, the little quirk of a smile that just sits in the corner of her mouth, he adores it. She’s sharp, acerbic, pointed. He hadn’t expected it from a bard. Sure some are arrogant and they demand everyone listen, some are witty and flirtatious. But she is something else, vicious even. They sit in camp together and she bitches about everyone. Mocks Shadowheart’s devotion, rolls her eyes at Wyll’s folly, wrinkles up her nose with distaste just by looking at Lae’zel and Gale gets the brunt of her criticism. He has noted she has spared Karlach and Halsin and it makes him wonder why. Is it desire for them? Is it a little lingering trace of compassion? Or are they so insipid to her that she doesn’t even care?

She has a deliciously narrow pointed chin, plush lips that every morning she colours red - it would make him laugh that she even bothers, but she always looks so good, and it always makes him want to kiss and bite them, that he never does mock her - and sharp eyes that sometimes he has caught looking at him when his back was turned. Is she falling for him? He’d have a hard time telling, truth be told, she keeps her cards close to her chest and when he does probe she lashes back with her merciless wit and ruthless barbs. He could eat her up. It’s marvellous to find someone who can match you. 

What he can read, despite it all, is irritatingly she has a soft spot. She’ll do the right thing, though she’ll roll her eyes and sigh and demand payment upfront. But he can tell she likes doing the right thing, she likes seeing people pleased and happy. That when he teases her about it she’ll shove him aside, insist she couldn’t care less and walks away, but he knows and it’s all too clear that despite that little, haughty, bitchy attitude that rubs everyone the wrong way, she is good. He wishes she wasn’t so, it would be easier to break her heart if she wasn’t. But he just needs to get back to Baldur’s Gate and she’s his ticket there. Though annoyingly too he likes to see it, likes seeing that moment of fragility and softness when she’s with him, her fingers tracing down his chest, her eyes no longer shifting about, apprehensively glancing this way and that like some wild animal trapped in a corner, there’s warmth and sweetness. Though even with him she hides it very well.

He’s nosey, there’s no denying that, but information is useful. He read her letter to her mother, assuring her that they had danced at the tieflings’ party, but done nothing further. He doesn’t mind that she lied, in fact it’s rather delicious to him, the idea that this pretty, lordling’s daughter has been stripped naked under moonlight, has gasped so sweetly when he impaled her with his cock, had demanded her pleasure like she demands everything else and he’d obliged, and she’s kept it a secret from her parents. She assured them they did nothing but dance, but he knows the truth and he can’t wait to see if she squirms in front of them. The notion makes him laugh, does he plan on meeting her parents? Does he think he’ll play the noble fool who promises to make good on his word, to marry their little jewel and keep her happy? Not a chance, he has more important things to do than love and marriage! And they would surely infuriate and aggravate and drive each other half mad? So why does his mind always wander that way and invent happy little scenarios that cannot exist and would do him more harm than good?

[annie-creates]

I'm yours

Pairing: Lady Lesso x reader

Genre: fluff (basically)

Words: 1800

Note: This is a final part to Barely a friend and The roses you sowed, can be also read as a stand alone. It's a bit suggestive but no real smut. Big thank you to everyone supporting these fanfics, your kind messages mean the world. <3

Three weeks. That’s how long Lesso had to watch you and your almost boyfriend walk around the school, chatting, teaching and laughing together. She couldn’t stand the sight of you two, but the moments she was locked up in her own school and imagined what you must be doing were even worse. Her jealousy was eating her alive. Rationally she knew she had no possession over you, yet she couldn’t help but feel like she’s loosing her property. Not that you were a thing of course… but to her you were in a way.

She was stupid to break things off with you in the first place. She thought she didn’t care. She was just having sex with you, nothing exclusive. Just casual. Nothing personal. But like most people she didn’t actually realize what she had until she lost it. She thought you’re just getting too attached, too demanding. And she didn’t realize she too got attached to you. She didn’t know she’s gonna miss you so.

But the dean of evil isn’t someone to just lure around in her own misery and give up. No, if she’s going down, she’s taking you with her, and that stupid prince of yours. He won’t have what she can’t have. Lesso doesn’t care about your stupid feeling of fake happiness, your love, or your happy ending. You won’t have one if it isn’t with her in it. Even if it’s the last thing she’s gonna do as the head of this school. But she couldn’t uncover herself too early so she had to play a waiting game for the right opportunity to take you back.

Lesso wasn’t one for patience. Lucky for her she didn’t have to wait too long for you to have a lonely walk through her corridors. Your prince charming was nowhere to be found, probably too scared of the wicked place. You never know what lurks in the dark shadows of the school for evil. Obviously you had more courage than the head full of golden locks. This was her chance to swoop you and get her word in, since you’ve been avoiding her like a plaque.

“What’s such beauty princess doing in a place like this?” her words startled you, but you didn’t run. You haven’t heard them in so long you missed them instantly.

“Duty business.” you answered shortly turning around, not sure what you’re going to see. Was she not mad at you anymore? “Don’t worry I won’t bother you here, I’m already on my way anyway.” your words were suddenly ice cold to her. But this was the chance she was waiting for, she can’t let you get away, Lesso realized.

“Not so fast.” she caught your wrist, spinning you around and bumping you into the wall. The ruthless dean was finally back and she won’t let you run off that easily. “Tell me is that what you really want? That stupid little prince instead of me?” her eyes were hard but curious.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” your voice was suddenly little and unsure. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, you could never resist Lesso and your body was betraying you.

“Oh you know very well what I’m talking about. Does he make you feel better than I did? Does he fuck you good? Does he know how to get your pretty sounds out?” she suggestively whispered into your ear and her knee in between your legs got a pathetic whimper out of you.

“You’re evil…” was all you had the energy to say right now but you couldn’t fall back to her that easily.

“Thank you darling.” her wicked smile made your blood boil. Who did she think she is, handling you like this? Making you weak in the knees again? “You’re mine you hear me? Only mine to ruin, mine to make you cry, mine to make you laugh.” She ordered into your ear.

“No, I’m not doing this again. Get the hell off me!” you pushed her away with an angry huff and folded your hands over your chest. “If this is all you care about, you clearly aren’t worth it to me. You really are the devil.” Your boldness left Leonora utterly speechless.

“If that’s all Lady Lesso, I’m going to get back to my work. Goodbye.” You smoothed out your dress and went on your way trying to pretend this never happened and trying to appear absolutely unbothered.

She didn’t see you after that until the next teachers’ conference. She sat in the pompous library of the school for good, listening to the program with just half the ear. Her eyes were fixed on you and the teacher next to you. She couldn’t believe you’d actually choose him over her. What did he have to offer? Nothing, absolutely nothing of any real value.

“Are you alright Lady Lesso?” Dovey asked her concerned after the meeting ended and she wasn’t the first one to run out of the room. She remained seated, making her the last one in here.

“I just have a lot on my mind.” Lesso admitted under the searching look of the dean of good. “What’s going on between Y/n and the new guy?” she couldn’t help but ask after a minute.

“Probably something happy and lovely.” Dovey shrugged her shoulders, not understanding why is the other dean so invested in the young teacher all of a sudden. “Why, does prince Phillip interest you?”

“Pfff, not at all. He’s just a peacock with an ego so high he’s gonna fall off.” she waved her hand.

“You know, Y/n has spent many many years here not having a happy ending. Don’t screw it up for her, will you?” Clarissa warned her counterpart leaving the library herself.

Leonora couldn’t help but wonder if he’s really the happy ending everyone keeps bitching about around here. She wouldn’t know cause she, like every never, was never granted one. She was destined to spend her life alone and abandoned by everyone she ever even thought to care about. Were you one of them? Or was she your villain, fated to break your heart? Those questions kept waking her up and she decided to pay you a visit to settle her mind once and for all.

“Come in.” your sweet morning voice invited her into your office, still sounding half asleep. She unsurely opened the door, hoping you won’t kick her out immediately.

“Good morning.” she said stepping into your office and closing the door. The only answer she got was your curious look and a slightly lifted brow. “I… have brought you a coffee.” she placed the mug on your table.

“What brings you here?” you asked instead your eyes not leaving her form for even a second.

“I need to talk to you.” Lesso admits.

“About?” you were getting tired of having to drag everything out of her. Leonora sighed and sat in one of the chairs in front of your table.

“Do you really think I’m the devil in disguise?” she asked, never knowing what you actually thought of her, but suddenly she cared to know.

“I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know you one bit.” you admitted. You desperately wanted to know her well, but her character seemed to be one of a chameleon. You’d think one thing for a moment and she’d turn out to be something completely different the next minute. “And I’ll admit I wanted to, but there’s a lot to you.”

“Do you love him? That Phillip guy?” this time it wasn’t taunting, maybe a bit insecure if you’d have to guess. But it was the dean of evil for fucks sake, she wasn’t insecure about anything.

“Love is a strong word.” You diverted your eyes as you didn’t want to answer directly, you weren’t quite sure where your feelings were at the moment yourself.

“Everyone here thinks he’s your true love.” was she really sad now? She looked sad… but why would she even care? She was here in your office, that had to count for something. She wouldn’t come into the school for good for just any reason.

“I thought it was you.” you admitted after a little pause. “I thought I loved you. I thought you were my happily ever after. The one true person to love me unconditionally.” you shook your head. “But I’m disgusting, remember? Repulsive… so why do you care?”

“That’s not true…”

“You’ve said it.” Your tone was uncompromising.

“But I didn’t mean it.” Lesso stood firmly by her word.

“Yes you did! You meant everything you’ve said about me! You think I’m stupid. You couldn’t be with someone so low.” you raised your voice. Leonora couldn’t help but wince at the harsh words you reminded her of saying. How could she ever say such things was beyond her now.

“No I didn’t! I thought you were getting attached, excessive, yes. I didn’t realize it was both of us! I didn’t know I love you! I know I’ve hurt you beyond repair, I know I did okay? I messed up. I screwed it. I don’t know what to do with those things. Those feelings.” Lesso jumped out of her seat waving her hands around to make a point. You on the other hand were sitting in your chair speechless which gave her space to express her thoughts.

“You love me?” you asked surprised, hoping for it to be true or for her to deny it and break your heart for finality.

“Of course I love you. I wanna be your stupid happily ever after or whatever.” she admitted slouching back into her seat with her head down frustratingly huffing in defeat. “You’re like a breathing tube in my throat. No matter how annoying you might get I still can’t live without you.”

“I’m sure you’d survive…” you tried to calm her down a little.

“No I wouldn’t. I feel it. It’s literally eating me alive.” Lesso explained. You rose from your chair and went around the table to sit in her lap finally ready to forgive her.

“Then no more arguments, no more pushing away and no more sneaking around.” you dictated your conditions.

For the first time in your rocky relationship Lesso was eager to obey you. With her confirmation you finally kissed her, something she was desperate for for what felt like ages now. No matter how hard you tried you’ll always fall right into her arms. Maybe that was your evil curse. She couldn’t believe she was stupid enough to ever let you go.

“You are mine.” she wasn’t exactly pleased with the little nod you gave her.

“Say it.” she begs into your ear squeezing your waist as to never let you go.

“I’m yours.”

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; ririka

requested by ; anonymous (12/08/22)

fandom(s) ; kakegurui

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; ririka momobami

outline ; “Heyyy can I request general dating hc on ririka monobami? :0 thank u >3”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

you are the only person who actually treats ririka as her own person and as a result you’re the only person she’s genuinely comfortable being herself around

of course she’s still shy and meek and quiet, but she’s comfortable enough to take off her mask and be all of those things with you — which says a lot

very touch and attention starved and drinks up any attention you give — from the barest of smiles and the brush of your hand against hers to the times where you let her curl up into your side as you stroke her hair

sometimes she gets so overwhelmed that she cries but it’s a good sort of crying and she doesn’t want you to stop

whilst wearing her mask she’s very forward and will initiate affection: grasping your face to force you to look at her, keeping a hand on you at all times, ‘kissing’ you in front of company and so on

but without it she’s too flustered to initiate anything and sometimes gets too in her own head to even reciprocate

her sister kirari appreciates the positive effects you have on her twin to an extent but feels like you’re overstepping as you start to help her come into her own — but she won’t interfere unless you try to mess with their relationship

she’s very observant and remembers everything about you, which makes her both an incredibly attentive partner and an excellent gift giver (since she also has the budget to do what she wishes so long as she asks as kirari)

her favourite thing is being able to curl up into your chest and hear your heartbeat as you hum and stroke her hair — the casual domestic intimacy she’d been denied before you

she generally tries to steer you away from riskier bets as she doesn’t want you to get hurt, but if you’re insistent then she’ll help you wherever she can

incredibly perceptive and can tell when something has upset you whilst knowing exactly what to do to lift your mood — being shy about it but still doing her best to take care of you

has the means and ability to ruin the lives and statuses of anyone who messes with you — and she’s protective enough to have actually done so on several occasions

turning reigning champions into mewling house-pets in a single evening after they spoke cruelly about you in passing

she is a member of the hundred devouring families after all and she has the same manipulative and ruthless nature as the rest of her relatives — she just rarely gets the chance to show it off because of her status in her family